Hidden 2 yrs ago 2 yrs ago Post by sail3695
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sail3695 If you do, I'ma do too.

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Happy Landings




The rush of cold air announced the hatch’s opening. “Kin I come in?”

The voice was unfamiliar. All that Yuri could deduce was its’ owner had to be female, and sounded young. He pulled the sheet up to mid chest before answering. “Yes.”

A girl stepped into the shuttle. The fresh face with a few lingering freckles from childhood offered clues. She was medium height, a bit on the thin side, and her reddish hair told its’ own tale of what she valued. But to Yuri, the real prize was tucked under one of her arms in the form of his boots and neatly folded clothes. “Name’s Abby,” she offered. “Cleaned yer clothes. I also soaked the salt outta them boots and dried ‘em proper. They might be a fair bit stiff fer a few days.”

Yuri sat up to receive his things. “Thank you. I’m Yuri...Yuri Antonov.” He gratefully accepted his things before eyeing a tightly rolled blue tee shirt. “I don’t think that’s mine.”

“Doc didn’t conjure yah gettin’ that arm inta a coverall sleeve,” the girl replied. “Thought I’d give yah that tee shirt tah wear underneath.” She eyed the sling. “Need help gettin’ into it?”

“No, I…” The mechanic looked downward, gauging the actual mechanics of getting into a tee shirt with a broken arm. “Actually...yes,” he grinned sheepishly. “I could use a bit of help.”

“Shiny.” With the girl to stabilize his arm, Yuri removed the sling. She carefully guided the left sleeve up the forearm, and past the elbow until it rested upon the securely bound bicep. After a tilt of his head and the right arm through, he was in. Abby helped him pull the shirt down upon his torso before applying the sling once again. “Fits perfectly,” he smiled his satisfaction. “Jinks Marine Outfitters, Pensacola,” he read the artful design. “I like it.”

“I’s gon’ use it fer sleepin’,” the teenager said, “but yew can have it.” She looked over the remainder of his boots and clothing. “How ‘bout all this? Yah good, or do yah need a hand?”

Honestly, he had no idea, but Yuri wasn’t about to expose his nethers to the girl, no matter how helpful she was. “I think I can manage, but thank you, Abby. You’ve been so kind.”

“T’ain’t nothin’,” she tossed her hair. “We’ll be on tha ground soon. Gotta head fer the engine room.”

“Are you the mechanic?”

“Don’t got one right now,” Abby said. “Hopin’ tah hire on Greenleaf. I’m jest babysittin’.” She pointed toward the shuttle’s seating. “Once yer dressed, kindly strap inta one ‘o’ them chairs? Burn-in’s always a skosh rough, dohn mah?

”Ku.” After a final glance toward the tee shirt, Abby made her exit. Yuri set to work, struggling into the underwear and coveralls, which he could only button to mid chest height. He’d just slipped into his boots and was pondering their lacing as the first buffetting caused the hull to shudder. Yuri strapped himself in, and spent the next minutes listening to China Doll sing her songs of burn in and the rough caress of the winds over Greenleaf.

He closed his eyes, focusing upon every subtle shift and nuance of the boat’s changing attitude. This pilot’s got a great hand, the mechanic observed as the landing...acid test for flying prowess...was performed with the fluid grace of a dancer on pointed toe.

They were down. People would be coming for him. He could only hope that Niska was good as his word.

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Hidden 2 yrs ago 2 yrs ago Post by Aalakrys
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Aalakrys

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When the China Doll was steady on the ground, landing gear deployed to prop her up for a nice nap, her pilot sat idle in the seat looking out the view port at the great city all around. Oddly enough, Penelope felt nothing. Had the jungle been visible, it might have had a different effect, the landing.

As it was, she sighed, and leaned back in her seat. Likely the cargo was being unloaded, the captain going about moderating, and the doctor maybe getting her patient they scooped up from the blue a final check. The passengers were departing for their endeavors on her homeworld, the Skye siblings making their great plans as well. And here she sat, listening to the sounds of the ship and echoes coming through her corridors, too faint to make out.

"Are you not going to disembark on your homeworld?" Sam must've been listening to her and the Captain's departing comments on landing, logging that only one had exited the flight deck.

"Sure am. The Cap'n and I have a party on the books." She grinned at the empty room, feeling Sam filled it all around. "Might take a day trip with the sibling trio when they go seein' the sites."

"Is there nothing you want to see?" Sam asked a hum of her whirring later.

Penelope folded her still-mittened hands behind her head and looked at the roof of metal separating her from the sky. "Oh, there is plenty. Talkin' with Cyd last night got me right primed for a Jungle Walk."

"Then why do you remain?" The question was pure genuine curiosity, simply to understand the illogical human action of inactivity despite known factors.

"Reckon I worry I might not make it back." Penelope said, smile touching her lips. "Wouldn't be right. Not after all the Cap'n's done for me."

"I do not understand." Sam said after a moment, sounding far more like the artificial intelligence that she was even though her voice was perfectly humanesque.

"I ain't set foot on Greenleaf in quite some time, Sam. Don't know if three days will be enough. Or too much." She sat forward, rolling with the motion after a moment, then got to her feet. "Won't hurt to at least watch the fish go, though. Warm up as the ramp opens."
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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by Xandrya
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Xandrya Lone Wolf

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The Discharge




Collaborative post with @sail3695

It wasn’t until the landing that Alana breathed a small sigh of relief. The young woman unstrapped herself, noting she needed to pay Yuri a visit. Gauging from experience, Alana would say he’d make a quick recovery. That of course stemmed from the fact that he was young and held a physically-demanding job, or at least she assumed it to be as such.

Not sparing a moment for conversation, the doctor set off to get some vitals from their newcomer. She was in a good mood, the best it’s been in quite some time. Her giveaway was the slight spring in her step, that which was done subconsciously of course. Alana hadn’t necessarily told anyone yet, but she was genuinely excited to be in Greenleaf.

In the shuttle, Yuri unbuckled himself before slowly rising to his feet. His entire body felt sore; every muscle complained of a lingering stiffness. Though the doctor’s IV and the shuttle heaters had eventually removed the chill from his bones, he felt much older than his twenty-eight years. Wonder how I’ll feel tonight, he thought, after the company has hold of me.

A gentle knock sounded, followed by the mild hiss of equalizing air pressure from the opening hatch. As the doctor entered, Yuri could still feel a slight chill to the air, but he conjured that would be gone as soon as the crew cycled all the vents. Dr. Lysanger projected a buoyancy of spirit as she stepped into the shuttle. “Hello, Doctor,” Yuri gave her a smile. “I think I’m ready to go.”

Her brow furrowed, the expression on her face now a mildly worried one. “Yuri, we’re going to be here for a few days, and you’ve got some ways to go on your recovery.” She walked over to him as she communicated her concern, eventually pushing the bedsheets to the side to get him to sit. “I highly recommend you stay with us, at least another day or two to make sure you’re right on track.”

Alana first checked his head wound after gently removing the bandage, and it was looking as good as it could healing up. She wondered about his decision to leave so quickly, immediately after the landing at that. Work? Family? Whatever the case, his rushed departure may needlessly create some complications if he were to be careless in any way.

He did as she instructed, sitting down for the doctor’s careful evaluation. Yuri tilted his head to permit the bandage’s easy removal. He lifted his shirt for the cold touch of the stethoscope, and for the much warmer hands of the doctor as she tended the more serious wounds. “My company is sending people for me,” he offered a bit ruefully. “They’re frantic to know what happened to the ship. I’m certain they’ve got a doctor waiting for me.”

A soft smile spread across her lips. “As long as you’re under the care of someone, then I’m more than okay signing off on your release" Work politics. She’d been there a few times herself, and more often than not it was a less than pleasant experience. “I’ll be giving you some medication for the pain and also a summary of your case to pass on to the next doctor.” His vitals were good, and Alana also checked his pupils to cross off any lingering effects from the concussion. There wasn’t any specific reason he couldn’t leave, from a medical standpoint at least, she just hoped they were going to provide the treatment he needed for his recovery.

“I’m going to patch you up and make sure you’re good to go. Does that sound good to you?"

The young mechanic responded with a smile. “It does,” he gave a nod. As the Doctor set to her work, he asked, “How long are you staying on Greenleaf? I’d like to show my appreciation to the captain and crew.”

She walked over to the space behind her to get some gauze and bandages. “Four days is what they said, so enough time to enjoy ourselves here for a little bit before we’re back in the black.” Alana made her way to Yuri’s side once more to dress his head wound prior to working on the rest. “I’m sure you can catch the captain running around out unloading all that tuna,” Alana went on, unable to keep herself from giggling at the thought.

The doctor’s mood was infectious. From the moment of his rescue, she’d always been a gentle, calming influence. Now, to see her sense of humor threatening to escape the trained medical countenance, Yuri felt a pang of regret at the thought of leaving. Abby did say they were hiring a mechanic, he mused, before quickly dashing the notion for the fantasy it was. Ogilvy-Norton was likely to keep him on a very short leash until all the legalese surrounding the Mick’s sinking were put to bed. But I could, the fleeting desire asserted itself once again. Just fly away…into the black.

As she continued to work in silence, Alana pondered how she would keep busy with the upcoming shore leave. Yuri's rescue and subsequent transport had distracted her from solidifying any form of plan, though the lack of forethought held no urgency in her mind. Given they would be in temperatures much more forgiving than they’d been dealt with en route to Greenleaf, Alana thought about acquiring some clothes proper for the weather. Maybe a nice sundress and sandals to pair it off. It’d been a while since she dressed up, and when opportunity calls...

“Well, that just about does it. Your bandages have been replaced and it’s looking like you don’t have to be confined to this shuttle any more. How’s your arm, any more sore than before?"

He glanced down upon the arm, firmly bound and supported by the sling. “It hurts a bit, but not intolerable. Honestly,” he added, “I think the tight wrapping actually makes it feel better.” I could just take off. The idea waved before him, tantalizing in it’s possibilities. The cortex is still claiming ‘no survivors’.... But no. The idea of crossing Ogilvy-Norton at this point wasn’t that much of a concern. But to back out on Adelai Niska? Knowing the man’s temperament, Yuri was convinced that such a decision would be a huge mistake. Most likely, his last. “Dr. Lysanger,” Yuri adopted a smile, “I really hope to meet you again. You’ve been so kind.”

“Please, no need to thank me—I was simply doing my job.” Alana shot him a quick smile before she went for the pain medication she had promised him before as well as his profile. “I’m hoping the next time we meet it’ll be under better circumstances.”

A moment later, she returned with the items, handing those off to him. “If there are questions of any kind, my information is on here. Take care of yourself, Yuri, though I’m more than confident you'll make a quick recovery.”

The two said their final goodbyes before parting ways. Once Yuri stepped out, Alana decided to clean and organize the shuttle back to its original state. She would start by sterilizing the areas that needed attention, then work her way from there.
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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by Gunther
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Gunther Captain, Infantry (Retired)

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Out of the Cold!


Collaboration with: @sail3695 & @wanderingwolf


“Alrighty, Pen,” Abby said on comms. “We got shore power. I’m shuttin’ ‘er down.” When word come from the cockpit, the girl hit the heavy clutch, bringin’ the core tah windin’ right on down. Her sweater’n hat was already off, draped over the handrail. “Warmin’ up already….Rex! REX!”

The lump in the hammock shuffled a bit til one eye slit give her the nasty. “I was SLEEPIN’ here!” he groused.

The deckhand didn’t budge. “Yah mean snorin’,” she said. “C’mon…we’re down. Boat’s warmin’ up Yew n’ Lucky can head back t’yer quarters. Go on…git!” She turned back towards the log an’ made ‘er last few entries. The sound of Rex’s feet hittin’ the deck reminded her it’d been an age since she’d had some right sleep. Can’t now, she thought. Got work afore I lay my head…”Son of a…REX!” she screeched, whirling away to shield her eyes from the nekkid man. “Gorramit, Rex!”

“What?” he yawned.

“Fer Buddha’s sake, gitcher self covered up and git lost!”

“Alright, alright,” he answered. After a few seconds fumbiln’ about, he tole her, “Okay, Cal Junior, I’m all decent. You have a nice time pushin’ fish. I need a drink.”

The cargo bay done warmed a bit from the burn in. All them tubs leaked, leavin’ big puddles on tha deck. “Add one more chore,” the girl said as she crossed toward the ramp controls. She give the lift button a slap. The bulkhead unsealed with a rush of heavenly warm air. Abby closed ‘er eyes, mouth hung open as the tropical breeze lifted her hair fer a second.

A truck was jest backin’ up. Dupree’s Ocean Delicacies split right down the middle as ‘er back doors opened an’ two men come out. “We’re here for the tuna and oysters!” one shouted up at ‘er. “You conjure you can get ‘em to us, little girl?”

Abby glanced over her shoulder. Seein’ Hook an’ the Cap’n steppin’ up behind her, she give the fishmongers a nod. “Yeah…I conjure.”

Joe pulled off his jacket, dropped it on the decking. He unbuttoned the top of his coveralls allowing it to drop over his gun belt. The same gun belt he always wore. He pulled up on the sleeves, wrapped each to the front and tied them off at his waist. His upper torso covered in an A shirt, or sleeveless undershirt. “Ok, we got this! Come on Miss Abby,” Joe stood behind the first tub ready to push.

Cal walked down the China Doll’s ramp to the man who was most assuredly Mr. Dupree, judging from the expression on his face. Sure as the mail, that Penelope had a curious way about her; one conversation and fellas made moves on her behalf what landed a man like Dupree with more than he bargained for. Sure as hell didn’t feel any better hearin’ from Hafez that he was just the latest fish that bit on the man’s scam. Captain Strand didn’t walk so far as to greet the man who’d hoodwinked him. He stopped half way, hand tucked into his belt beside his pistol, watching Dupree’s men take the haul from cool eyes.

The cook and the young deckhand put their backs into the work, starting each heavy tub on its’ way with a forceful shove. Each time they sent a tub slidin’ down the ramp, a man wearin’ a shirt an’ tie ‘neath his coveralls would jam a meat thermometer inta one ‘o’ the fish on top. He’d give a grunt, an’ his two helpers would trundle it on the lift gate.

After the sixth load ‘o’ tuna went out, Abby walked back with Hook, flexin’ her left arm as they went. “Don’t know ‘bout yew,” the girl offered, “but it feels mighty good breakin’ a sweat again.”

“Nuttin’ wrong wit puttin’ in a hard day’s work,” Hook remared to Abby’s comment. “”Course, the day is young.” They pushed the tubs off the ramp for Dupree’s boys to take. “Shore ‘em glad to see those things git off this ship. Ah was startin’ to tire of that darn cold air.”

“Sure’n that’s true,” she give a nod as the last of the oysters went inta the truck. “I didn’t sleep a’tall. Most like gonna turn in early tonight after workin’. Out the corner of her eye, she seen the man Dupree, all stone faced as he give over a coin pouch to the Cap’n. Cal didn’t count; he jest stuffed it inta his coat as they parted without handshakes. “So, Hook,” she kept watch as the truck rolled off, “Ever been tah Greenleaf afore?”

“Long time ago,” Hook responded. “Ah was a deckhand on a…” Joe paused a few seconds. “Allow me to correct mahself. Ah was a Space Hand on a Floating World Class luxury ship called tha Truthful James. All these hoity toity bitches. They didn’t call us deck hands. They had their own title, Space Hands.” Joe laughed. “Ah only worked there for three years and had to leave. Ah conjure ah did somethin’ to piss ‘em off.” Joe smiled reflecting back on that moment. He knew he couldn’t go back. “But that was at least ten years ago.”

“For some reason the Truthful James stopped off in Greenleaf. Ah got shore leave for’n three days and back on mah way. Back to the inner planets. Honestly, ah don’ member much of it.”

Abby watched him as he tole her ‘bout somethin’ she ain’t never seen, ‘cept fer a capture or a pic on the cortex. But toity bitches...she seen their kind a’plenty, and could ken jest what Joe’s sayin’. Didn’t take no time tah conjure when one of them was lookin’ down their nose, or snickerin’ behind their hand. So she done her best tah steer clear. Fer true she ain’t seen much outside ‘o’ China Doll or Mariposa…but Hook had. Jest like Pen. Jest like the Cap’n. Them’s the folk whose eyes she wanted tah learn tha ‘verse through. “Sounds like fine liners ain’t so grand to them as does the work,” she said.

“Them luxury liners sho was purty. They had fine furnishin’, everythin so clean. Nothin like this firefly. Everythin juss so nice. The rich folk from the inner planets ride on them to come out to the outer planets juss to git a look. They kin afford such things. None of them ever talk to me. They kind a treated us like we was second class citizens…the space hands, ah mean.” Joe expanded on his experience on the luxury liner. “Ah much prefer a ship like this one here. More like family.” Joe gave Abby a smile.

She give a solemn nod. “That’s my gander, too. ‘Sides,” her eyes swept about the cargo bay, “they’s lotsa purty on an old boat like this. Jest gotta look at it diff’rent.”

Next job was cleanin’ the deck. The ice melt meant water runnin’ off them fish. The big puddles’d soon disappear, but if they didn’t do nothin’ the hold would start tah smellin’ powerful bad in a day or two. First come the cleaner, a gritty powder what they sprinkled outta boxes into them puddles. Once that’s done, Hook an’ Abby took push brooms an’ set tah scrubbin’ each puddle into a right froth. The pair was hookin’ up a hose fer tah spray the whole deck down when Abby caught sight of that fella Yuri. He come down the catwalk steps, movin’ all slow an’ such so’s anyone could see he’s still well sore an’ stiff from his doin’s. Yuri give her a wave an’ a smile, but then he caught sight ‘o’ Hook, an’ picked his way down them steps all purposeful like. “Looks like he wants a word,” the girl nudged her friend. “Go on, Joe. I can knock this out in two shakes.”

Joe wasn’t paying attention at first. He was unaware someone else was in the area. When he heard Abby call him, Joe, he looked up. “Oh, this the guy we pull outta the water.” Joe leaned his broom against one of the bulkheads. He walked over to the man and put out his hand. “Names, Hooker. Joe Hooker.”

Yuri accepted the offered hand with a grateful nod. “I remember you, sir.” He shook the hand with perhaps more enthusiasm than he’d planned. “I’ll never forget what you did for me. I’m Yuri Antonov…and how I repay, I’ll never know.”

“You owe me nothin’,” Joe shook Yuri’s hand. “I needed a bath anyway.” Joe smiled at him.

“Are you leavin’ us? Or stickin around fer a bit?” Joe was curious if he was going to join the crew of the China Doll.

Yuri watched for a moment as Abby sprayed the deck with a water hose. The suds and water swirled into several floor drains, while some escaped down the open cargo ramp. “I have to go,” he answered. “My company has many questions about the loss of our ship.”

“Yea, understood. Good luck to you, Mr. Antonov,” Joe stated as the man left. He picked up his broom and continued to push water and debris out of the cargo bay.

“Joe Hooker.” Yuri stepped toward the man. “I owe you thanks…belay that. I owe you so much more.” He glanced toward the open cargo ramp. Fixing his gaze once more upon the cook, he said “God willing I find a way to repay.”

Joe could only give him a slight salute as Yuri stepped off the ramp. He did not live his life keeping track of debts. He was taught to love an enemy as you would a brother and help others when you can. It was his plan to end up in that paradise the good people go to when they die.

Cal picked up Joe’s broom and joined Abigail in her work on the deck. Joe’d earned a break to lollygag, way he and his shorter counterpart had made smart work of those crates without so much as a finger to budge them from Dupree’s crewmen. As the luckiest soul aboard made his affections known for Hook, Cal leaned into Abby, “Now that this all’s behind us and you’ve still got your ears and toes, what’s the resourceful ‘Abigail Travis’ gettin’ into her first night on Greenleaf? ‘Sides cleanin’...” Strand made wide strokes with the broom toward a drain, then shorter ones with a little elbow grease, still thinking about Dupree and the favor he owed because of the man.

She’d finished the rinse down and begun a final round of sweeping as the Cap’n came to work alongside ‘er. “Ain’t slept since New Melbourne,” Abby said all quiet as two brooms swished ‘neath their feet. “After I strip the passengers’ rooms fer washin’ I conjure I’m turnin’ in early…’less you got somethin’ else needs doin’ tahnight?”

“Uh-huh, ‘turnin’ in early,’ right,” Cal lifted a finger to tap the side of his nose. He conjured there’d be some such fella a-callin’, after catching the operative in the act the first go-round. Strand smiled remembering his own days of shore-leave not-too-much-older than whatever Abigail was. “Doll’s not goin’ anywhere’s for a couple days. Don’t see why you ought t’ break your back first night in.” Joe caught Cal’s eye, then.

“Oh, Cap’n. Ah kin git that,” Joe commented on Captain Strand taking his broom to help Abby clean up the deck.

Captain Strand handed Joe the broom and stepped aside, hand going for his silver cigarette case. As it flipped open, Cal’s brows knit together, and a grumble slipped from his lips. Snapping it shut, Cal’s eyes scanned the port through the China Doll’s open bay door in silence. The jungle of Greenleaf wafted warm and humid air in his direction, the sounds of many brightly colored birds carried on the air. No wonder Penelope took such inspiration in them–that and her being a pilot and all.

Abby’s broom pushed a stray puddle inta the nearest drain. They wasn’t at it long, but the heat an’ humidity what poured through the cargo bay hatch already ‘er tee shirt stickin’ to her back. What I wouldn’t give for a nice shower, she conjured as she worked about the deck. But that weren’t like tah happen til the doc pulled them stitches out her pi gu.

Cap’n’s question stuck in ‘er mind, though. Greenleaf…if she told it true, Uncle Bob never really let her go wanderin’ off. Tah hear him say it, streets around ports was chock full ‘o’ rapists an’ con artists jest lookin’ fer a young’un like her. But then she met folk like the Perfessor…an’ Pen growed up here. And while she could suss out that little uneasy somethin’ behind the pilot’s eyes when she spoke of home, Abby come tah think that if Pen was born an’ raised here, Uncle Bob mighta been pourin’ on the doom and gloom a tad bit much. She’d see about some wanderin’...tomorrow, after her watch.

“Well,” Cal said after a while of watching Joe and Abigail work. “Hard work’s done for the day. Take your rest.” His gaze was still fixed out the rear door. “As for me, turnin’ in early ain’t on the menu. I’m headed into town. Call me on comms if you need somethin’.” Cal turned to nod at Joe and Abigail before stepping onto the ramp toward the cluster of buildings up the road.

“You git some rest, Miss Abby. Ahm gonna go look fer somethin’ to shoot at.” Joe didn’t know if he was going hunting or simply target practice. Whatever he was going to do, it involved his rifles.
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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by deegee
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deegee

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"Twirling Rabbit"




Collins had been walking the streets and alleys of Khao Yai a good three hours. (Actually, ‘good’ was pushing luck. Lousy was more fitting.) He didn’t really have a program. No place special to be, nobody to hold sway over him. Back home, that was rare. There was always a place to go, or a days’ work (or ten) to be done. But since he’d gone off-world, in those rare occasions when he had himself to hisself, he knew what he had to do. Collins had meandered into and out of a dozen bars since leaving the Troy, and none had the right feel to it. Too clean. Too filthified. Too bright. Too sparsely packed with folk. Too ruttin’ busy. Too loud.

His walk had taken him on a circuitous route to nowhere. He followed no path save his nose, and a hunch he’d find something. Something important. He turned a corner onto yet another poorly-lit stretch of crowded Jao Gao, and immediately found what he was after: The Neon sign reported, in badly translated English, the ‘Twirling Rabbit.’ Except the sign was broken, and in the dim light with letters missing, Barstow saw only ‘Twirling Ra__t’ and said as much, under his breath. “Twirling Rat, huh? Seems my kind of place.” There was a cowboy retching violently at the corner of the establishment – too much ‘shine, or not enough, Collins couldn’t be sure.

He nimbly crossed the street between a pack of four thread-bare hare krishnas and a grav-truck that should have been on the scrap pile a decade ago and, side-stepping the vomit outside the ‘Twirling Ra__t,’ stepped inside. He knew at once this was the place, and silently cussed out his inner monologue for wasting three or more hours of time when this had obviously been the spot all along. All eyes turned to him as he entered. There were at the very least three or four illicit acts in progress that he could have judged on the spot, if he were back home, and near every one o’these old boys looked like they’d done a stretch or three. He tugged at the brim of his hat to the room, and as he did so the collected rain-water ran off in a small rivulet, and eyes turned back to their previous efforts.

He walked to the bar, placing his hands on its cool, worn top, and swiveled into a stool. There was no immediate response. He flipped a few coins onto the bar-top, and flicked one, such that it spun like a top. The barkeep approached, a hard-baked and squinty-eyed woman of maybe forty, with a voice like she’d gargled with broken glass once too often. “What’ll it be, drifter? We got beer, bourbon, an’ two kinds o’ the local tonic that’ll strip paint as soon as make you forget yer ills…”

“I’m not thirsty, dohn? I’m looking for someone.” She slapped her hand down on the spinning coin, stopping it dead. A few eyes close by took note. “Well this ain’t no whorehouse, and I don’t need no shi yan, stranger. You care to whet your whistle, you let me know…” She moved to leave him, but not before he slapped two more coins down on the table, slid them into her hand. Ja Hwo goes by the handle Jonas Flint. Travels with a few Kai Tze… I’m sure someone here might’ve heard of them.”

At the mention of Flint, there are some hushed utterances, and the scraping of a few chairs against the floor. The barkeep jerked her head toward a dark corner. “Talk to her. Then get out. Don’t want none of yer trouble.”

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Hidden 2 yrs ago 2 yrs ago Post by Gunther
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Gunther Captain, Infantry (Retired)

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"Abby Oakley"


Collaboration with @sail3695


Joe finished off a bowl of chili and drank some water in the galley, then headed back to his room. He stored his rifles in a steel wall locker bolted to the bulkhead. He had cleaned both just yesterday when they were in the black and wasn’t worried about them fouling. He pulled both out and laid them across his bunk. Next, he searched for some ammunition and found three 50-round boxes of .30 caliber ammo for the M1 and two 50-round boxes of .308 for the sniper rifle. Honestly, he did not believe he would find any distance beyond two hundred meters in the jungle. Maybe he would get lucky. Next, he pulled out a satchel to put his ammo in. Before leaving he pulled a box of .357 ammo out and threw that in the satchel as well. With the rifles slung like an X across his back and the satchel hanging down over his left side, he headed down toward the cargo bay.

Hook’s notion of gettin’ in some shootin’ sat well with Abby. It’d been a spell since she’d done more than clean the Mosin. Since putin’ it back together, the gun needed some targetin’ adjustments, and bein’ out in the heat of Greenleaf would suit her jest fine fer tha task. The moment she seen the cook comin’ with his guns, the girl hefted a trash sack full ‘o’ their targets…empty “Captain Bob’s Cola” bottles. “I’m all set,” she give Joe a friendly smile. “Yew conjure where we’s headed?”

“Not a clue,” Joe smiled. “Ahm shore we’ll find somethin’. Let’s go.” They headed down the ramp. This was when they were able to see the rays of Zhu Que or the Red Sun. Its light rays were a bit different than the white star he was used to, but it did keep this planet quite warm.

The outskirts of Khao Lai were not that far away, but Joe wanted to avoid the city. “Let’s head this way. Proly find better shootin’ ranges away from the city.”

“Sounds fair.” She fell in beside ‘im, her sack ‘o’ bottles clinkin’ with each step they took. Abby kept an eye out fer tha yard hands as they went. Most like, one ‘o’ them could point the way toward a safe patch ‘o’ jungle or a landfill what might work for them. Weren’t long afore the heavy, damp air had her shirt stickin’ tah her frame again. “Yah know,” the girl said aloud as they walked, “I kept busy last night so’s not tah git real cold…but I’m mighty glad fer feelin’ it tha other way right now.”

“Work is a productive source of heat,” Joe allowed. “The jungle shore is purty, Miss Abby.” Within a few minutes, a young man came strolling along their path. Joe kept his eye on him. He appeared to be in his early 20s about 68” tall and lean with short brown hair and blue eyes. “Good day, suh!” Joe motioned to the man.

She give an enthusiastic nod as her eyes took in the approaching canopy of trees. While Hook flagged down a local, Abby only half listened as they talked directions. Her eyes was drawn tah all the color an life of the place. She thought of the Perfessor, an’ the sights he’d see while chasin’ down his orchid. He promised tah take snaps with his capture for her…specially if they seen one of them great big snakes out there. Abby pondered that, wonderin’ if Pen ever seen one.

She caught Hook’s wave, and drew back close. “Got a spot figgered out?” she asked.

“Aye, shore do. Only about a mile up this path on the left. He said it had some nice lines of fire out about five hundred yards. Ah don’ imagine we’ll get much better than that.” Joe kept walking. He took the occasional glance at the foliage. Mostly birds are all he saw…and heard. They were a very noisy group. “Ah shore didn’t expect to hear these birds serenadin’ us like this.” Joe pulled the M1 off his shoulder and cradled it in his left hand. He opened the chamber, pulling the handle all the way back, then allowed it to spring forward stripping a cartridge from the magazine and loading it into the chamber. He left the rifle at the ready as he walked.

Abby cocked an eyebrow. “Yer not fixin’ tah shoot one, are yah?”

“Ya never knows when ya might’n run into someone of poor intent.” Joe chuckled to himself.

Eventually, they came to the would-be range. It was only about fifty yards wide, but did extend out the half a kilometer, the gentleman on the road described. As it happened, a small wooden bench stood alone at the near end of the range. “Hand me a few of those bottles,” Joe asked. “Ah’ll run them up the far end”

He leaned the H&K against the bench and took six coke bottles. Placing the bottles in his satchel, he trotted up the slight incline as far as he could. When he reached the far end, he looked back to ensure he could still see Abby. ‘If ah place the bottle on the ground, we may not see it back down there,’ Joe thought to himself. ‘What about hanging them from a branch?’ He considered the notion and realized he had some small strands of string. He tied the bottles on the string and then hung them from a tree at the edge of the jungle. He took about twenty steps back and surveyed his handiwork. ‘Ah think that will work.’ Pleased with his efforts, he ran back down to Abby who had apparently set some bottles up at a closer distance.

Abby’d set two rows ‘o’ bottles. The first was all sittin’ on tha ground at twenty-five meters from their firin’ line. The second row she paced out at fifty…right up to a big log somebody done used afore, if the shards ‘o’ glass an’ dinged cans lyin’ about was a sign. Once that chore’s done, she dropped to one knee an’ ejected the Mosin’s clip. With the gun layin’ crossways tah the range, she loaded five cartridges inta the empty clip. Then, the girl waited til Hook was back behind the line, afore loadin’ the weapon. “Nice work tyin’ them bottles,” she chuckled when he come. “I’s wonderin’ how I’d calculate windage.”

Joe placed the M1 on the ground next to the bench and reached for the H&K. He pulled out a 10-round magazine and loaded it with .308 cartridges.

As he finished his preparation, Abby sat cross legged on the ground, her back straight as she hefted the rifle tah sight it. She like the Mosin. ‘Twas a gift from Uncle Bob, who got it from a man couldn’t pay his fare on a run. A little readin’ on the cortex tole her that the gun design was six hunnerd years old, from Earth-That-Was. It was used by Russians to fight agin’ an invasion. She conjured she liked Russians, too. Account she read had women fightin’ right alongside men, an’ even women actin’ as snipers…usin’ a Mosin with a big scope. She thought one day to try’n find one.

Things got quiet with Hook. “Y’all set?” Abby lowered the rifle an’ glanced over her shoulder.

“Oh yea, ahm all set. Squeeze that trigger, Miss Abby.” Joe was about to get ready then remembered, “one more thing,” Joe muttered as he pulled a pair of small ear plugs from his bag. “You might want to put in a pair of earplugs.” He pushed them into his ears.

Then he inserted the magazine into the H&K and laid down on the ground in a prone position with his elbows out in front of him. He looked through the scope on the rifle, scanning for the bottles. He saw the bottles hanging from the trees. Then he pulled back on the charging handle to load a cartridge into the chamber. Then he pulled the scope back up to his eye, pulling the wood stock tight to his cheek. His left hand pulled gently on the foregrip as his right hand held a loose grip on the stock. He feathered the trigger. Looked through the scope. Breathing softly, in and out. Moved the crosshairs over to one of the bottles. Joe focused on his breathing as he placed the cross hairs up on the bottle. When it was lined up proper, he slowly exhaled as he started to squeeze the trigger rearward. He stopped breathing, waiting for the explosion.

The rifle jerked back into the pocket of his shoulder as the projectile exited the rifle. Joe watched through the scope. The strike of the round was almost instantaneous; maybe a fraction of a second. The glass did not break, but the bottle swayed in the breeze letting him know that his miss was only slight.

With a blowback operation, the explosion of the round, forced the bolt rearward to compress the buffer spring, then recoil forward to strip another round and lock it into the chamber. He checked the sights and relined the crosshairs up on the bottle. He pulled his elbows tighter together. This time, he stopped breathing just before slowly squeezing the trigger.

The rifle jerked a second time followed swiftly by a coke bottle shattering roughly 515 yards to his front. “Yes!” Joe muttered. “Got one.”

“Shiny,” the girl answered. She’d gone down on her belly, the Mosin propped twixt her shoulder an’ left hand while the right played at adjustments. Abby aimed on a bottle at twenty-five yards for linin’ up both front an’ rear sights. She took a tiny screwdriver tah nudge tha rear sight jest a notch left. Fer such a short distance she didn’t tweak elevation; this shot’s all about gettin ‘er tuned. She took a few minutes. Move left, tighten, sight. Move right, tighten, sight. Finally, when she thought she had it locked, she hauled the bolt, hearin’ the inner workin’s chamber a round.

With the safety flipped off, she centered up on the bottle. A gentle finger rested on the trigger as she exhaled, checked her sight, an’ then squeezed. The Mosin barked, a deep, satisfying report an’ a recoil that punched her shoulder. At this distance, she seen the strike plain as day. The bottle took the hit but sent most shards flyin’ off right. “Tad more tweakin’,” Abby observed as she put the little tool to work agin’. “Think I’ma drop coin fer a nice scope like yourn.”

“It a good investmen’ if you wanna hit targets at range,” Joe suggested. “Juss keep doin’ what ya doin’ n’ yew git good. Ah got five mo’ bottles to take out.”

“Mosin’s specked fer five hunnerd on this sight. Last year I took down a couple Reavers ever’ bit’s far out as that,” the deckhand said. Jest need tah dial ‘er in, s’all.”

The rifle had chambered another round after he fired it the last time. He rolled back into his prone position and pulled the stock up into his shoulder. He pressed the stock against his cheek and pulled his elbows in tight propping the rifle up off the ground. He looked through the scope and moved the crosshairs onto a bottle while focusing on his breathing. When the sights were over the bottle, he stopped breathing and slowly squeezed the trigger rearward. The resulting explosion sent a third round down range. Again, he hit the bottle and it shattered.

Joe continued shooting at the four remaining bottles. He missed two but did hit the four bottles. “Now ah have no more targets up there. Need to use the carbine anyway.” He removed the empty magazine from the H&K. He loaded another ten rounds of .308 into the box magazine and reinserted it into the magazine well. The tenth round from the previous magazine was still chambered.

He placed the H&K against the bench and picked up the M1 Carbine. He pulled back on the handle slightly to ensure it was still loaded from earlier. It was.

Abby squeezed again. This time, the bottle shattered all even like. “That’s muh girl,” she whispered, happy with the lateral. After takin’ a third down, she set her sights on the fifty-yard line. First shot was a miss. Her brow furrowed, she took ‘er time, careful on the lineup.

Squeeze.

The bullet struck, but just a touch right this time. “Still not right…there,” she said as she rolled up tah sit. Her ammo spent; Abby popped the clip out fer a reload. “One more lil’ tweak,” she chuckled. Hook had settled in with a different rifle. She’d do him the courtesy ‘o’ holdin’ ‘er shots til he’s finished.

“That’s some purty nice shootin’ Miss Abby. Who learned you ta shoot?” Joe asked.

Hook’s question was innocent an’ well meanin’, but she blushed all the same. “I’s afraid yer gon’ ask me that,” Abby giggled. “Ever read The Adventures of Buck Shot? I know, I know,” she met his stare with a full up laugh. “They’s silly cowpoke stories…but ever’ now an’ agin’ Ole Buck would teach cowboy stuff, like rawhide ropecraft, findin’ water, an’ such. I think they put ‘em in when the books was too short. Anyhow,” now she’s smilin’ at the memory, “in tha fourth book…The Poutin’ Pistolera? Buck was all sweet on a Spanic woman. He taught ‘er how tah handle a rifle…how tah sight…how tah hit things. The love story weren’t no good, but the rifle teachin’? I wore them pages right out,” she grinned.

Joe had a large ear to ear grin on his face. “That is a wonderful story, Miss Abby. Ah cannot say ah ever learnt nothin’ by reading a book.”

“Maybe we go change some targets? Add a few more o’ the trash on the ground here?” Joe suggested. He shouldered his rifle and headed down range with the young deckhand. “We can git some beef stew in the galley when we git back to the ship. Then clean these rifles up. Always good to keep ‘em well oiled and cleaned. Ya’ ne’er know when you need one.” Joe suggested with an air of experience.

“Sounds fine,” Abby fell in at his side. Soon, they’s scoopin up dented cans an’ bottles what could still stand. “I think I got ‘er dialed in now,” she said. “Jest fer certain, I’ll put a couple down at three hunnerd? Then we can put the rest at five? That okay with yew?”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s a dandy idea.” They finished setting up additional targets and walked down the slope back to their firing line. He pulled the carbine off his shoulder and checked the chamber again. It was still loaded. He hadn’t fired it yet. The H&K was still loaded, and he left that down near the bench.

When they reached the bench, Joe offered a wager. “What say we test our shooting skills? You with the Mosin and me with the carbine here. No scope, all iron sights?” Joe looked at Abby. He honestly didn’t want to take advantage of her but thought it would be fun.

Abby shrugged. “Sounds like fun. Whatcha got in mind?”

“You put six bottles at three hunnerd yards and four bottles at five hunnerd yards. We each take shots at three of those six bottles at three hunnerd and shots at two of the bottles at five hunnerd yards.” Joe suggested this challenge while waving a hand toward the bottles, then paused. “But what to wager? I gave all mah buttons away.”

“Welllll,” she give it some thought. “Chores? I win, yew clean tha lav ever’ day we’s on the ground in Greenleaf? You win, I do all the dishes?”

“You’re on!” Joe smiled. “OK. We each have five bottles to hit. The one who can hit their five bottles with the fewest number of bullets wins. This carbine holds thirty rounds. Your Mosin has what? Five? Six rounds? Then you have to reload?”

She nodded at his estimate. “Five round clip. Wanna take the first shot?”

“Sure. Will do.” Joe assumed a good prone position on the ground. He propped himself up on his elbows and pulled them in tight. “I’m looking at one of the three hunnerd meter targets first.” Joe focused on his shooting. He lined the iron sights up with the bottle. The damn thing was quite small. He focused on his breathing. When his sight picture was ready, he stopped breathing and slowly squeezed the trigger. The shot was a surprise and true. It hit the first bottle. “Got one!”

Abby settled inta place, legs splayed an’ elbows propped as she sighted the Mosin. Took ‘er time linin’ front an’ rear sights. In ‘er head, Ole Buck was teachin’ again. “Gotcher sight? Good. Now take a breath…let ‘er out nice an’ easy as ye touch the trigger. Give ‘er a gentle squeeze.” The Mosin barked, and tah her delight, that bottle shattered right perty in all directions. “There’s hit,” she smiled.

“Good job, Miss Abby!” Joe perked up. “You are not bad.” Joe’s semi-automatic rifle was ready for the second shot. He found the next bottle and looked down the barrel. He put the front sight post in the notch of the rear aperture. Then he placed that front sight post over the bottle and lined the top of the post with the top of the rear aperture. This area right there. The top of the front sight post was the sweet spot. He put that center mass on the bottle and tried to visualize as small of an area on the bottle as possible. When he was ready, he stopped breathing and gently squeezed the trigger. The report was again a surprise and the round hit the bottle dead on. “That’s two!”

“Gorram, but that’s got a voice on ‘im!” she chortled over her shoulder. “Nice shootin’. Changin’ up guns gotts be a challenge fer long shots.” She slid the bolt, sendin’ brass cartwheelin’ off at her side. Abby chambered her next round, an’ settled in tah take tha shot. ”Don’t overthink it,” the dime store novel cowpoke spoke in her mind’s ear. ”Just…squeeze.” She couldn’t hear the bottle shatter fer the backslap echo of the shot…but there it was, lyin’ in shards. “Two all! Durned if this ain’t gettin’ interestin’?”

“Ah honestly don’t mind cleanin’ the lav for the next three or four days.” Joe laughed. He looked down the barrel, located his third target and lined up the sights just as he did before. He squeezed the trigger and a split second later, that bottle was ruined too. “There’s number three!”

“Oh yeah?” Abby cracked wise. “I conjure there’s a better chance ‘o’ me gettin dish pan hands then yew scrubbin a commode, dohn mah?” She laid in again…locked ‘er sights an’ squeezed. The Mosin roared…but the bottle didn’t flinch. “Uh oh. Should I go agin?” she asked.

“Take another shot. Ahm bound to miss on the 500-meter shot.” Joe encouraged her to go again.

She hauled tha bolt fer a fresh round, then took ‘er stance. “C’mon, old girl,” Abby whispered. “Let’s….do….” The gun spoke. This time, the bottle flew all tah pieces. “Alrighty then,” the girl said. “On tah five hunnerd…an’ I’m one behind yah.”

“Ah knew you could do it! Nice shot.” Joe looked at the 500-meter target. With the scoped sniper rifle he was able to hit six out of nine shots. Let’s see how well he could engage these with iron sights. He used the same technique he used on the last shot. This time he moved the aim point up to the narrow neck of the bottle to compensate for the drop of the round. Joe focused on his breathing, insured he had a good cheek to stock weld, elbows set, left hand with a slight pull towards the shoulder, stop breathing, squeeze the trigger and “Kablam!” the round struck near the bottom of the bottle, but it was enough to shatter it into small pieces. “That was number four, Miss Abby! You can do this.”

She laughed. “Five hunnerd meters…no windage, no elevation. Know what I can do?” she teased. “Dishes!” That cola bottle looked mighty small in tha distance. Surprisin’ she could even see it. Abby lined up, drew her bead on the center…and then edged up jest a whit tah the top. Afore she could lose her nerve, she fired. Took the round just a heartbeat longer tah travel, but when it sent that bottle tah oblivion her jaw dropped. “Holy cow…” she muttered.

“Ahm glad yer on my team, Miss Abby. Nice shot.” Joe pulled the rifle up and scanned for his second target at five hundred meters. He went through the same procedure. He squeezed the trigger and could see the round strike the dirt in front of the bottle. “Wo De Tian A” Joe rarely used Mandarin, but this seemed appropriate. “I missed one.” Joe hung his head low. “Yes, I could use your help in the kitchen. But looks like ahm cleanin’ the lav instead.”

She’d waited all quiet an’ still, so’s not tah distract Joe’s shootin’. “Aw,” the deckhand groaned as his shot struck dirt. “Ain’t nothin…jest means we’s tied up is all. She reloaded her clip, then got prone again fer the second five hunnerd. Take yer time… Buck encouraged from his pages. [/i]Like ye got nary a care in the world…[/i]
The Mosin talked. Her last bottle listened, sparklin’ in the sun as it shattered. “I don’t believe it,” Abby’s jaw hung open.

Joe picked his head up out of the dirt. “Nice shootin’ Miss Abby.” He re-aimed the five hundred-meter target. He pulled the rifle into his shoulder and focused on his breathing. He stopped his exhale and squeezed the trigger. The next shot struck the dirt just to the right of the bottle. Then he looked over at Abby, “Ahm gonna start callin’ you Abby Oakley now. You got me, Abby. Ah git to clean the lav this week.” Joe stood up and checked his rifle. “How about we head back to the China Doll?”

“I still can’t…WHOOOOO!” the girl let loose as she come up off tha ground. “Yew good girl,” she give the Mosin a kiss on the handgrip. Abby couldn’t stop grinnin’ as she turned towards Joe. “Sounds good, but yew go first. I’ll pick up our spent brass an what glass can be removed. Lotsa animals about,” she said. “Joe, this was some fun. Thank yew!”

“You are welcome, Miss Abby,” Joe responded. “Yea, let’s clean up our range. Get ready to go back home.” Joe gathered his equipment. He unloaded his rifles but kept his pistol close by. Never knew what could be out there. “Miss Abby? Thanks for coming out with me today. This was fun.”

Joe and Abby picked up the brass and collected the small shards of glass. When they were ready, they began the two-mile trek back to the ship.

Once they returned to the ship, Joe went up to his room to get his cleaning kit and a towel. He then went to the galley to set up a spot to clean his rifles. Then he pulled out some left-over beef stew to eat before getting to work on the rifles.

Abby joined him, and the pair laughed over the girl’s newest nickname.

“Ok Abby Oakley. I’ll clean the lav after I do breakfast tomorrow,” Joe was ready to accept his new assignment.
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Hidden 2 yrs ago 2 yrs ago Post by sail3695
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sail3695 If you do, I'ma do too.

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The Welcoming Committee




“Unit Two’s in position.” The earpiece buzzed softly.

Terrragona shifted in the passenger seat. “Copy. Stand by.” The Traders’ Market was the perfect spot to lift a man right off the street. For decades, vendors had set their booths along the narrow two block section just beyond the gates of the Tradeport in hopes of coin from sailors and passengers alike. The place was noisy, disorienting in its’ barrage of colors and seedy attractions. Above all, it was crowded. Once the quarry was jostling their way through the mob, Terragona and Eames would close the front door behind them, and move in. If the target took wise and chose to rabbit, their only egress was the market’s far end…right into the waiting arms of Cho and Reynolds. It never failed.

“Chief,” Reynolds said over the comm channel, “who is this guy again?”

“It’s a corporate job,” the team leader replied. “All hush hush, with a nice payout for each of us.”

“Gorramit,” crackled the response. “Another jungle tour? I didn’t bring my hip waders.”

He cast a sidelong glance toward Eames, who wore a wry smile. “Next time, try reading the job spec…hold up. Eames lifted an index finger from the wheel, silently pointing toward a man limping his way through the Tradeport gates. Terragona thumbed his dossier to the image capture. He narrowed his eyes, searching beyond the cover of bandages and a sling for ident confirmation. Approximate age, height, and hair color all checked out, but the shoulder patch on his coveralls sealed the deal.

“McSorley?” Eames studied the target through his monocular. “Wasn’t that the…”

“Copy.”

“Jeez…this guy’s a mess. Do we still get the bonus for ‘easy?”

“Every pfennig. Unit Two,” Terragona keyed his mic, “we’ve got eyes on the target. This one’s easy. Go prep the wet room.”

“That’s a rodg…Two’s en route.”

Once the channel closed, the leader and his wingman ditched their earpieces. “Nice and quick…we finally catch a break.”

Eames chuckled as they climbed out of the black panel van. “Let’s make it happen.”

*************************************

Buddha, but he was sore.
Despite the gentle care of Dr. Lysanger, Yuri felt the pain in every joint, the stinging tug of each stitch, and the synchronous throbbing in his head and arm. Moving like a man decades older, he slowly made his way through the open gates of the Tradeport. Once outside, he paused. Wasn’t someone supposed to meet me here? Ahead of him lay some sort of open air bazaar, a cacophony of noise and gaudy displays echoing back to Yuri’s place across the service road.

The service road itself was mostly clear, but for a gleaming black lorry. His interest was further drawn when the doors opened to reveal two men. The sight of black suits and sunglasses gave him an instant chill. “Yuri Antonov?” The passenger took the lead as they approached.

Yuri froze. This was every bad action-adventure capture he’d ever seen, coming to life. He stood, riveted to the spot, instincts crying out RUN!, yet betrayed by his broken body.

“Are you Yuri Antonov?” The leader’s tone was brusque.

His mouth fell open, an answer welling reluctantly forward when the world exploded in sound.

A massive air horn, the sort found on large trucks sporting far more chrome than their designers intended, blared a deafening rendition of “La Cucaracha.” Yuri turned, his jaw agape at the rolling billboard which soon pulled between the henchmen and himself. The truck’s flatbed held a mariachi band who launched into a lively traditional song from Earth-That-Was.



Behind them stood a tall electronic display:

WELCOME YURI ANTONOV!!!

As if all of this wasn’t surreal enough, the strange little man who burst from the passenger side door only took this hatter’s dream to the next level. “Yuri! Baby! Boobala! Great to meetcha!” As he offered an enthusiastic handshake, he shouted, “Leonard Booth, Attorney at law. You can call me Booth. C’mon, we gotta lay down tracks!” He tugged at the mechanic, erasing all resistance when he added “Mr. Niska says ’Privet!’ Or should that be ’Buenos Dias?
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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by Yule
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Yule

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That’s what it’s called!

Landing Day Late Afternoon


OOC: JP between @Winters, @MK Blitzen @Yule










The Skye’s had full bellies by the time the ship landed. One thing the verse had taught was that if life offered food, you take it, because you never know when your next meal is gonna find you, or vice versa. Normally Cyd would be making a checklist of what they needed to take, but the beauty of the shuttle was that everything would be going with them as it was.

“Rochambeau?” She asked Mathias, holding a fist against her palm to see who would get to fly. He won a best of three in two rounds, scissors beats paper, then rock beat scissors. He had a ‘knack’ she grumbled, strapping into the passenger side.

Isaac sat behind the two, his knees to his chest as he tapped away at his sister's cortex. He'd pause only briefly to look to the ceiling, searching for the perfect word before his head dove back down again engrossed in the glowing digits flashing on the screen.

“Are you messaging her again?” Cyd groaned, looking at her little brother in the fold down jump seat. “Like a bandage, Lolo. Rip it off and be done. You heard the captain, oweh? We don’t know when we’ll get back, and I need my Cortex.”

"Oh let Lolo be. It's a process … " Mathias said then dropped his voice down to a whisper. "... You and I both know that long distance relationships don't work out anyway. He'll figure it out eventually."

Cyd held her hand back to retrieve her cortex, while giving Mathias a wary expression. Isaac had a bigger heart, he was more sensitive about things than she or Mathias had been. “We have to focus for the job ja nee? Now, not nou nou. The only way this works is from the server room, and if I’m running cameras, I can’t do both.”

Isaac cracked a crooked smile while staring at the screen and let it a slow sigh. Just then, he looked up, noticing the glances coming from his sibs. He rolled his eyes and handed the datapad back to his sister with a huff.

"I know. I get it. He'll be focused." Mathias said with confidence. "You just got to give him a little leeway is all … we can talk his ear off til the stars die off but this is something he had to handle himself. We can only be there to keep him on course-"

Mathias was interrupted with the sound of the messaging app's cheerful notification bell. Isaac's arms lunged forward between his two older siblings, his hands making the universal "gimme!" motion. Cyd raised an incredulous eyebrow at her twin as she passed the datapad back into the flailing clutches of her younger brother, who dragged his prize back to the rear seat.

"… and...maybe a slap to the head if he gets too far off course." Mathias finished, smiling weakly at his irked sister.

Cyd glared at Mathias. She rolled her eyes and looked out the shuttle window. Khao Yai was nothing special city wise, but if you looked over the walls, you could see the vast expanse of green that gave the planet its name. She couldn’t wait to see all it had to offer, but right now, there were still pieces of the puzzle to put into place. “Come on, Lo, I have actual work to do,” she complained, reaching back for the tablet.

"Work first, romance later!" Mathias said sagely.

"Fiiiine!" Isaac huffed as quickly finished up his message to Sarah and thrusted the datapad back to his sister before falling back into his seat, arms folded in aggravation. His mood shifted as he began gazing out of the shuttle's side window.

Cyd side eyed her younger brother, taking the tablet back to bring up her schematics. “Mathias is going to have to boost a keycard from someone just in case, but according to this, the server room also has a lock, and a heat sensor so–” she was cut short by another incoming message.

The messaging app's siren song jolted Isaac back to reality. He leaned forward between Cyd and Mathias, his smile returning to his face. "Can you believe she still wanted to keep in touch?" The teen sighed. "Honestly, with the way it ended, I didn't think she wanted to even speak to me anymore. And yet, here we ar-"

Mathais gave a glare that promised murder. "If you don't buckle up I will barrel roll this ship and rattle you like a bean in a can!"

The younger Skye reconsidered the doe eyes he was about to try and use on his sister and instead slipped quietly back into his seat. After a moment, the two in the front could hear the satisfying clicking of his seatbelt.

“So we’re going to need to account for that,” Cyd finished, holding up the spray can and tin foil for Isaac’s backpack. “This is the dongle.” She waited for the obligatory snickering from both siblings to subside before continuing. “All I need you to do is plug this in and sit tight. I can handle the rest remotely. Questions?”

Mathias snickered. "What's that thingie called again?" He said, ticking his head at the object in Cyd's hand.

“You know what it’s called, Yobo,” Cyd chided, playfully swatting at her twin.

"I don't…" Isaac offered from the back seat, an impish grin stretching ear to ear.

Cyd rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help but giggle. “A dongle,” she repeated. “Now be serious, or I’ll erase any message that comes in.” As if on cue, another message chimed.

Isaac gasped in horror but bit back any protests for fear that his sister might not be bluffing.

Mathis snickered again. "Okay okay … this is my serious face …" he said fighting the giggles.

Cyd eyed her older brother with disbelief. “Dongle,” she repeated flatly, as Mathias exploded into laughter. “Aaaaaaand, he’s gone,” she sighed, dejectedly handing the tablet back to Isaac. “Say hi from me.”

Isaac's giggling was cut short with a squeal as he clawed for the datapad, a tiny, high pitched "thank you" squeaked out before his face was buried in the screen once again.

Cyd threw up her hands and decided to just look out of the window for the rest of the trip. “Dongle,” she giggled, under her breath.
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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by wanderingwolf
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wanderingwolf Shiny

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Smokes and Sunscreen




JP featuring Penelope and Cal between @Aalakrys & @wanderingwolf

No sooner had Captain Strand nodded his goodbyes to the deckhands than he caught the eye of his pilot on the bay catwalk. He paused a moment, considering, then with a jerk of his chin he summoned her down from her view on-high.

As Penelope had been taking in the goings on, mostly lost in her own thoughts as she enjoyed the warmth wafting in over the smell of sea and brine, she caught sight of her captain’s beckoning gesture. It was obvious he was indicating her as no one else was lingering along the railing, so she stood to descend the stairs. Once she was close enough, the usual easy-going expression leaving her more relaxed than she felt in truth, she ribbed him in her way. “If you’re thinkin’ Sam and me’ll be plottin’ in your absence, don’t worry - your toes are plenty safe from the frost on Greenleaf. Might want ta check your boots for other things ‘fore you go puttin' ‘em on though if ya fancy goin’ barefoot outside the ship.”

Cal’s expression was serious as he let a simple smile reach his lips, “Walk with me.” As the pair fell in step together, Strand thought on what lay ahead for them tomorrow evening at Hafez Nadal’s party. For Penelope, a reunion of sorts, for Cal a chance to pay the piper. Having never heard of Hafez in his travels, Cal felt left in the lurch. He wouldn’t go so far as to say the devil you know is better than the one you don’t, but he’d be damned if he didn’t do his homework.

A minute of walking saw a pandemonium of parrots pass overhead, looking for perch on the buildings and queen palm trees that towered above them. The birds’ constant chatter was both interrupting and engaging, and Cal’s eyes watched the flock move for a moment before he simply stated the object of his concern, “Hafez Nadal.”

Penelope had taken in her captain’s expression and posture as he walked, so she had been expecting the break here soon. It came as she watched the parrots squawk, fluffing out their plumage as they took purchase wherever they like, and begun grooming their feathers. She’d been all over since her last stop here, but nothing was like home. Though she hadn’t planned to leave the ship anytime soon, the captain’s need to hash things out had her stepping after, and she was glad for it - even if that meant they were going to have another one of those talks. “Feels like I’m always on this side of that tone, Cap’n.”

She’d stretched as she’d spoken, Penelope none to worry much about the present. But, she didn’t hold out on him and what he was after. When her arms fell back down to her sides and she’d gotten a deep breath of what she could over the landing docks, she turned her gaze to him. “Sam had the right of it. Hafez is the face of an enterprise, with hands to do his work.”

He chewed on that a moment, his hands buried in his pockets as they continued their path into the throng of buildings and businesses in the style of Greenleaf’s iconic and money-funneled architecture thanks to big pharma on the planet. “Uh huh, but what about your history? Which hand did you play, once upon a time in Greenleaf?” Strand’s tone was inquisitive as he gauged her response. If she knew anything about the sort of work Hafez got up to, or any clue as to what job might be awaiting them at the end of the festivities tomorrow, Cal had a mind to know the measure of the man.

The street opened up to main thoroughfare now, and they fell into sparse crowds gandering after wares or bustling from one shop to another. People of working class stood out by their clothes, and the pair of them were just different enough to stick out—save for Penelope’s gate, of which Cal took notice, she seemed like a fish in water. They walked past a bazaar off the central path, and several beggars turned chin to the pair, palms open. Cal fished for some creds from Dupree’s pouch and stuck one in each palm, before turning back to his companion and the road they traveled.

Penelope had been given all the time she needed to think, and as she watched the captain passing over coin with a gentle smile on her lips, she found herself grateful he was her captain. Not only was he a decent sort, even when he tried not to be, but he understood her in a way few did. So, when he turned his attention back on her, ready for her answer, she was ready to give it. “Remember when I said I’d been on jobs without knowin’ it before and I ain’t keen to fall back into the dark? My captain back then was one of them hands, turned out, so I only knew our host in passin’. Cap’n had left the RFID with the bodies, so he was the one that found Jun an’ me in the forest when another hand came lookin’ for his haul. I was his guest for some time ‘fore he put me in touch with O’Malley; couldn’t live all cooped up on an estate so close to my home. Needed soil an’ sky more than anythin’ else could be offered, anyhow.”

There was more to the story, but she wasn’t one to go into details unnecessarily - at the base of it, that was the truth. And being back on her world gave her clarity for what her captain was really after. “From what I did see while I was his guest… he is like the lianas of the rainforest, Cal. It was wrong of me ta compare him ta a spider, when he operates more like the wooden vines that wind their way through an entire section of trees to reach the canopy. They control everything in the section of the forest they occupy, and yet the forest an’ its wildlife become dependent upon it. And, only a few would know when it’s toxic or life-savin’.”

The comparison had been told in her slow speech, the sadness fading as she visualized what she was saying as the words left her lips. The Barefoot people revered the lianas, and it was evident in her tone that she did as well.

Toxic or life-saving. That boded all sorts of complicated, and the way his pilot spoke, he couldn’t suss if it was the man himself who had earned that respect, or if it was the metaphor from which she drew to paint a picture of him. Cal rubbed his chin in thought. Nadal was a player, that much was for certain, and he commanded the respect of Penelope. For him, and for now, that would be enough. Penelope had done a daring thing in both telling her tale and in bringing him Hafez in their hour of need. He set his jaw, deciding the ‘Verse was telling him it would all be alright. They’d just been paid for a job and set down on a beautiful locale. He glanced sideways at his pilot, today had enough to worry about on it’s own. Tomorrow could worry about itself.

“He took you in when you needed it. Makes sense that he’d be the one you call. And, Penelope,” he paused to furrow his brow earnestly, “I appreciate that you did. Saved us big on this job, and that ain’t something a lot of people would do. So…” Captain Strand offered his hand for her to shake, “Thank you.”

Now Penelope’s bright smile shown through as she gave a little tilt of her head and took his offered hand. As her slender fingers encased what they could on his hand, she shared her soft delight. “Well now, Cap’n, don’t know if I ever earned a handshake before. Glad to be of service.”

“Now, I need a cigarette ‘fore I do any further dealin’ or it’s guaranteed to go sideways, mark my words.” A bodega sat nestled on the corner, and neon lights flashing on the eaves advertised Cal’s favorite brand of cigarette, ‘Letrot.’ Letrot was made of the absolute chaff in synthetic cigarettes, but was widely favored among grifters and drifters across the ‘Verse due to its availability. In fact, the only places Strand found that didn’t stock his tar of choice were Londinium and Osiris, a matter which caused him no love lost when he considered what sort of people lived there and where he’d rather be. The Captain tipped his hat to Penelope before approaching the proprietor with a nod.

As her captain walked away to get stocked up on his habit, Penelope turned her eyes back to those birds, her hands folding together behind her back naturally as she watched. There weren’t nothin’ for her at the stall. All her wares were to be traded or scrounged, or at a specific delicacy shop across the burg, but that was if she made it that way. For now, she was content to let the humidity in the light rain starting to fall coat her soul. Rainfall in the jungle was more steamy, but this was a warm shower after the frozen flight from New Melbourne, and she would let it soak her through if she wasn’t careful. When Cal finished up his business and turned back, she hadn’t moved. Only then did she draw her eyes away from the huddling parrots to look at him, mist alight over her curtained, curling hair and bare shoulders. “Hey, Cap’n, I know you got wrangled into spending some of your shore leave with my old acquaintance, but did ya have any other plans in your downtime? Hope ya ain’t gonna join Hook in no shootin’.”

She’d spoken in the same manner she had when they’d first met, carefree and at her own pace, at least until she mentioned what she’d overheard while on the catwalk of the ship, watching the fish unload. The idea of hunting on Greenleaf made the natives ill, considering most came for trophies and sport rather than need. Wild boar for meat was one thing, and maybe that’s what the deckhand meant since he was keen to cook, so she gave him the benefit of the doubt - that he meant to go get in trouble instead, which was less a crime than hurting any critters in Penelope’s mind.

That silver cigarette case had scarcely closed before Captain Strand had one in his lip, “Captain’s don’t get downtime, Freckles.” He pursed his lips, shielding the lighter flame from the warming drizzle. His plaid maroon and green collar began to darken with the welcome rain. “But it just so happens that I do have plans for a bit of ‘R and R.’ I been meaning to ask you something’, matter-of-fact, seein’ as this is your world.” Cal took a long draw on his cigarette, his face instantly relaxing as he reluctantly removed it to tap ash.

His eyes were serious as he met Penelope’s, “See, I got a need to visit the warmest, driest, most shadeless beach near a couple clicks. Know anywhere fits the bill?” His eyes followed the cigarette as it met his eager lips yet again.

Penelope had been all ears before the captain even got to what he was seeking. She'd tilted her in thought, pondering as he spoke, and a smile spread at the inclination. "Now, what would a man such as you want with a sunny beach… you'll burn for certain. No, can’t have that. What you want is a lagoon, and I just so happen to know where one or two is that won't be occupied by them pesky tourists like over on the beaches."

She dropped the hand that had cupped her check as she'd been thinking, the smile on her lips made conspiratorial by the shine of her eyes. "It's a ways off the path, but coordinates and a shuttle can get ya there if you’re willin’, then you'll be right shiny, Cap'n."

It was an alternative offer, but she wasn't pressing. Either way, she'd tell him what he wanted to know, of course, but was fond enough of her captain to share a hidden gem of her home world. Greenleaf had plenty of lagoons, but not everyone was keen for the travel.

Cal turned to fix his eyes on Penelope, cigarette ember alight. “A lagoon, you say? Can’t say I’ve been to one, but a secluded locale suits me just fine.” He watched her eyebrow arch in interest, “I’ve got a bit of business sand-side with the good Doc, and a quiet spot in the sun is the perfect prescription.” Cal winked, obviously proud of his turn-of-phrase, his cheek occupied with another long drag from his slender, foul-smelling cigarette. “How’s my hair?” The Captain turned to show off the back of his head to Penelope.

"Well," Penelope said with that light mirth in her soft voice as she raked a hand through the back to comb it just once. "I ain't a doc, but I think it's safe to prescribe a trim. Reckon the lagoon works with a nice bit'a shag, though, so ya can belay those plans in favor ah the better ones.."

So that was what had Alana in such high spirits the other day, was it? Maybe, maybe not. They both got themselves quite a catch though, Penelope thought, so she couldn't fault a one. The Doc's near giddiness and this side of her Cap'n. Was downright cute.

“Shag,” he pronounced, following the path Penelope’s hand had traveled with his own. “You might be onto somethin’.” He was feeling in much better spirits now, having a clasp full of cigarettes and some excitement on the horizon. “How’re you with a pair of shears?” Captain Strand pulled again on his cigarette, tapping his Montana crease against his thigh as he hopefully waited for her answer. If not her, then maybe Abigail–seein’ as she grew up on a boat and such.

"Oh, depends on what I'm usin' 'em on." Penelope grinned, following where the captain was going but having to leave him disappointed. Wasn't her skill set - fabric wasn't near the same as a head'a hair. "My older sister took care'a the trims growin' up. I wouldn't wanna go ruinin' that roguish look with a sorry attempt. Not when ya got special plans."

The gentle teasing was a sign she was quite enjoying herself, even if she was sorry she couldn't be of more help. Maybe it was the mist and the bird, the thickness of the air, or maybe it was just this friendly back and forth. All her nerves at being home seemed to subside, at least for this moment. "Be a poor way to repay ya for the nice stroll. Maybe someone on board can help if they ain't all rushed ashore to thaw out. An' who knows, maybe the doc likes a bit of scruff."

Her grin spread. Given what her captain said to poor Isaac when he was all hurtin' over leaving a girl behind, Penelope figured thinking too much on a romantic notion might be pushing it, but from how giddy the two were… might not.

“Maybe she does,” and with that Cal closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and welcomed the jungle rain with a plume of smoke to the sky.
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Hidden 2 yrs ago 2 yrs ago Post by sail3695
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”One Call…That’s All!"




For Yuri, the act of reading the lawyer’s business card while standing in a Khao Yai sewer tunnel seemed highly appropriate.



“Keep that safe,” Booth said as he sloshed back toward his newest client. “Okay, I got my bearings now. Follow me.” The attorney didn’t seem to mind wading in the ankle deep filth, another box checked.

Yuri found himself grateful for the calf length workboots as they progressed through the deepening shadows. “Where are you taking me?”

Booth glanced over his shoulder. “Got a safe spot up ahead. A place where you can tell me everything I need to know without a wet work team kickin’ the door in.”

“Wet work?” Now he was confused.

“The gorillas in the suits?” the lawyer replied. “Ex military types, usually spec ops guys who just can’t settle down and grow a beer gut like Buddha intended. Their job was to have you feedin’ the pythons by oh-dark-thirty tonight…conjure?”

“Conjure,” Yuri nodded dumbly, though he didn’t conjure at all. “But why?” he asked. “Was this my company’s doing?”

“Around this corner,” the little man directed him through a junction. The tunnels beyond were much narrower, their uneven brickwork forming an overhead arch that barely allowed a man to pass without stooping. “C’mon, baby, you knew something bad was gonna happen when you agreed tp meet your bosses,” he chuckled. “We’re under the old part of the city now. Don’t touch the walls…it doesn’t scrub off.”

A half dozen rats scurried past, moving as an organized unit in single file. Booth didn’t see fit to comment. “But…a wet work team? To get rid of me? Why?”

“I’m not a hundred percent on this, yet.” The tunnel’s confines gave the lawyer’s voice a hollow echo. “But your ship’s all over the cortex. ‘No survivors…went down with all hands,’ is the kinda la shi Ogilvy-Norton’s pumping out in their press releases. Makes you an obstacle, my man! Number One, their street cred dips if you go public. But they can bounce back from that. It’s Number Two that’s got their corporate panties in a twist.”

“What’s number two?”

“Money. My girl’s not done crunching the numbers yet, but she was already North of a billion credits in the loss of the ship and cargo. Right now, your bosses are scrambling to grease the wheels for their insurance policy to pay out. As Niska tells it, a sole survivor…a mechanic who can testify to shoddy maintenance? You could put their whole bankroll on the skids. Hell, even paying to have you offed is cheaper than the cost of your death benefit.” He laughed. “You’re worth less dead than alive…much less!”

“But…” Yuri cast a wary eye behind them. “Then those guys…the spec ops. What’s to stop them following our tracks?”

Booth snickered. “Right now, they’re shadowing the truck. It’ll head to my office…in another hour or so. Gotta drop the band off first, capiche? They’ll bust in after dark. When we’re not there, they’ll scratch their pi gu’s and search for clues on the truck. So we’ve got a good three hours before they find the bottom hatch and put two and two together. After more time to backtrack manhole covers, if they’re stupid enough to drop into the sewers they’ll be up to their knees in the city’s dinner rush.”

The thought of professional killers wandering aimlessly in knee deep effluent gave Yuri a chuckle of his own. “Pretty clever,” he smiled as they approached an access ladder. “I liked the Mariachis especially. Nice touch.”

“Shiny!” Leonard Booth, Attorney at Law, pulled a wrench from his suitcoat pocket. He swung, banging the tool twice against the ladder. Suddenly, the manhole cover above them was lifted, loosing a cone of light that forced Yuri to squint. “Cuz you’re paying for them!”

“Huh?”

“C’mon,” the little man climbed upward. “I hope you like knish!”
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Hidden 2 yrs ago 2 yrs ago Post by sail3695
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A Late Night Jungle Walk


Post by @Aalakrys

Once Cal and Penelope parted ways, the pilot’s feet carried her not back to her new home aboard the China Doll but rather a familiar route to her second home. The rain had really started to come down, but it was warm and the air thick. Unlike New Melbourne’s brine and salt flowing on the air, the earthy pungent smell of the forest came through in the deluge as it beat away commercial vapors. It was subtle, but an adopted in native like Penelope could sense it.

Traveling into the forest was not recommended outside certain protected areas, walls built up by the Alliance when they settled in proper to ‘oversee’ the medicinal tree farms. There weren’t any particular rules against it for on foot travelers, though air-borne ones got a scrutiny with a fine eye. No fly zones, especially over the Ipê nurseries and natural growth, were common. With her newly minted identification card, Penelope didn’t have to worry so much about her name triggering any of that when they landed the China Doll.

Instead, as she could see the dense forest coming into view behind the massive walls (constructed from the forest’s bounty, to the ire of the natives), a bothering was mingling about her thoughts mighty peskily. Cal had said to keep herself off her family’s radar. She wasn’t intending to do the opposite. It was just… as her feet carried her on, it was by way of old stomping grounds. Folks that knew her didn’t forget a face - weren’t their way. The call of the Great Andean had been too great once her captain got her out the ship.

Who was she foolin’ - she was lookin’ for a reason to step out.

In the downpour, most folks had cleared out except those accustomed to it. Luckily, the sun weren’t comin’ back up soon. Between the rain and the night, Penelope figured she was safe from being spotted as she shimmed through one of the less official exits into the forest.

It wasn’t safe to go into the jungle alone, unarmed, at night, and soaked to the bone. Not if you didn’t know where you were going, especially - and even then, risky as hell. The daunting fear of the darkness and what lurked without was a natural deterrent to most. But never really to Penelope.

She wasn’t irresponsible as she seemed though. The moment she crossed through the fence, an entirely different set of skills long dormant came to the forefront of her mind as the rainfall thinned dramatically under the canopy she was now coming under. With a deep sigh, breathing in the full aroma of the life around her, the all-but-native was home.

The destination wasn’t far - but it was enough a distance to know as an adult that she could’ve easily been killed at least twenty different ways as a child unawares. Two, she spotted in the dim light remaining before nightfall. Critters were usually more scared of humans than interested in attacking, especially if there weren’t a threat, so she continued on easy until she reached the foot of a tree so wide she couldn’t see around.

It’s trunk spread its girth out as if it had just settled in for a nice long sit, roots splayed half dug into the moist soil sponging against her boots. There she left them, behind on the ground as she used the rough, steady surface of the great tree as foot and handholds. Grandfather tree was her tree; at least in the way a tree could belong to a person in spirit. He’d taught her a lot, told her all the best stories - just by spreading his massive arms wide in welcome for her to discover the forest all around.

Time hadn’t passed at all for this ancient sentinel. A year or so of her life was just a blink for Grandfather tree, a hybrid of kapok that would last - in theory - a thousand years. This one, her mother had told her once, was at half its life. Monitoring had waned once the focus on medicinal properties picked up, and the natives cared more for its grace than those that funded its creation. Penelope liked it because her mother had; had sought it out the night she first came to the forest and slept in its arms. And then came to love it.

If she couldn’t see her siblings and father, she could at least still visit some family.

Remnants of her had lingered, she saw when she reached the spot she ultimately ventured to every time. A nook perfectly fit to sink down into for nap after a long day, and all around it her wooden talismans she’d learned from her days with the natives still dangled up high above. Penelope Randell, the girl smiled brightly as the woman sighed in contentment once again as she sunk down into the welcoming arms of her Grandfather tree and listened to the forest come alive after the rain. Tonight, she had no urge to climb into the canopy and see the stars - she’d, for the first time in her life, had enough of them for one night. The life around her was what the soul craved.
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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by Xandrya
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A Stitch in Time
Day 2 Morning




Collaborative post with @sail3695

Good day, so far.

She slept like a babe in arms. This mornin’ she give Cap’n the news Ms. Wyman decided to stay on fer the next run. In return, Cap’n paid out her share from the fish haul, a nice lump ‘o’ coin jinglin’ in ‘er pocket. Abby promised herself she’d put some aside this time…start savin’ up…fer what, she didn’t know. Aunt Lupe weren’t no help on that’n. Jest the same, she’d git in the habit.

Mornin’ chores was done, light work since it’s just laundry an’ cleanin’ the room what the Perfessor used. She couldn’t ride the chair yet, seein’s they didn’t know where they’s goin’. Rumor said Cap’n had a line on a job. He an’ Pen was gon’ scope it out this afternoon. Perfect time fer Abby tah slip off tah find a pair ‘o’ them Wailin’ Yutes Isaac spoke well of.

Well, mebbe after she mopped the upper deck…first thing’s first. Time fer her stitches tah be pulled. Abby’s all kindsa careful with ’em, keepin’ tha area dry an’ clean, takin’ sink baths an’ only stickin’ ‘er head ‘neath the shower jets tah wash ‘er hair. She weren’t sore no more, an’ the limpin’ done ceased altogether. But them stitches give ‘er a powerful itch now and agin. She kep ‘er hands off, but sometimes when folk weren’t lookin, she’d run ‘er backside up an’ down a wall, trick she learned from a capture showin’ a bear backscratchin’ on a tree trunk.

She went by the passenger lounge on her way to medbay, an’ her orchid drawin’. Think I’ll leave it fer a spell, Abby smiled tah herself as she stopped to knock. “Mornin, Doc?” she asked. Think I can get muh stitches yanked out tahday?”

Alana peered over her shoulder with an arched brow at the unexpected visitor. She swiveled around to face Abby once the face matched the voice as she had been too distracted to recognize her initially. "Morning, Abby. Come on in and let's have a look," she added with a smile as she got to her feet to gather some supplies. Alana figured given the number of days and the size of the wound, there shouldn't be any concerns removing the stitches.

"Let's have you changed up, shall we?" She handed a paper gown to the girl, then started heading for the exit. "I'll be just outside, let me know when you're done."

Abby never conjured doctors an’ their ways. She figgered her denims an’ unders was like tah drop round her ankles as she bent over tha exam table tah get them stitches snipped. But now she’s strippin’ everthin’ off fer one ‘o’ them open backed gowns. Uncle Bob used tah say “they do all kindsa stuff tah raise tha bill,” but that didn’t make no sense now. With a shrug, the girl yanked it all off.

Somethin else she found funny was ‘er own modesty. The ‘buck nekkid’ part didn’t ruffle her a’tall. Doc already seen ‘er an they both had girl parts. But when she caught herself tuckin’ her unders away, Abby chuckled over such foolishness. After all, she’s perty certain the doc seen them afore, too.

Soon’s she got the gown on proper, Abby called out fer Alana. “All ready, Doc!”

"All ready you are," Alana announced reentering the infirmary. "Thought you might be a tinge more comfortable despite the already simple procedure. Up you go, same spot as before."

After locking the med bay doors to allow their privacy, Alana went on to ease the girl's mind in case she held any concerns for whatever reason. "You'll be in and out quick, and you'll be itching a lot less if that was bothering you before. I trust you kept warm for most of the ride?" The doctor went on to collect a suture removal kit as well as some additional gauze reserved for possible bleeding. Sometimes the wound site wasn't closed all the way despite looking otherwise. After placing the items within arm's reach near Abby, she began gloving up.

Abby hopped onta the table, lyin’ on ‘er stomach an’ propped up on ‘er elbows. “Spot did itch a might, but I kept from scratchin’ at it,” she said. The deckhand give a nod tah the doc’s next question. “Spent part ‘o’ tha night in the Skyes’ shuttle. Rest ‘o’ the time I’s down here with the passengers. Got tah help that scientist…Perfessor Marquina? Kept warm by keepin’ muhself movin’ all night.” She glanced over her shoulder. “How bout yew?”

“Oh you know, just looking after our patient. The shuttle was warm so I was warm,” she smiled, working her hand into each latex glove and flexing her fingers in to get the comfortable, tight fit. “Ain’t done much other than that, but the warm clothes sure worked wonders.” Alana then shone a light over Abby’s behind, examining the stitches. “This is looking good, I say we can proceed with no issue. The captain didn’t work you too hard, right? I’ll get on his case if he didn’t let you get the proper amount of rest."

The girl shook ‘er head. “Cap’n always treats me right,” she said. “Got plenty rest….’cept fer tha cold run. Made up fer it last night…I’s out like a light afore twenty-one hunnerd.”

"Happy to hear, looks like I won't have to chastise him after all..." As Alana went on, she reached for the solution to clean the wound prior to the suture removal. "But ya know, I did hear from a little birdie—and it wasn't Rex's—that you snuck off on one of those nights you were supposed to be resting." Despite no distinctive tone behind the statement, Alana was smiling slightly as she was going about teasing Abby.

When she might ruminate on this sometime later, Abby’d conjure it was good she’s layin’ on ‘er stomach so the Doc couldn’t see her face go all flushy. “Um….uh,” she stammered, her mouth hung open. Who’s the birdie? Pen? Most like, no. She conjured the pilot’s a good one fer keepin’ secrets. The Cap’n? Yeah, that one had a ring. Word’s floatin’ ‘round that the Cap’n an’ the Doc was thick as thieves of late. Pillow talk? she pondered. Didn’t matter now. Her super spy sensei said perty much same’s she’s thinkin’.

”Honesty is the best policy, but only when served in bite sized chunks.”

Cap’n knew ever’thin’, and he knocked her house ‘o’ cards right down. Question was, how much did ‘e tell the doc? She’s gon’ have tah white knuckle ‘er way through this’un…

Abby took a breath, tryin’ tah stop herself from tensin’ up. “Wouldn’t call it…well…um…yes, ma’am,” she finally give in.

The poor girl...Abby was all but shaking right where she lay, stuttering her words as if she'd been caught red-handed, which in a way she had. Alana opened the package containing the smaller pair of forceps and scissors, setting those up to remove the first suture.

"The way I conjured, you either went out for business or pleasure. Seeing as the mighty captain refrained from assigning you any labor as to not disturb the most critical phase of your recovery, then it's safe to assume you were out for pleasure..."

Alana was mostly speaking the truth with her statement, though Abby could have been out for any one number of reasons. Of course, the fun was in dragging a confession out of her.

“It sorta become both,” the teenager ‘fessed up. “But I’s off muh feet jest ‘bout tha whole night…’cept fer when I’s puttin’ on clothes…” She stopped. Don’t think that coulda sounded no worse, Abby chided ‘erself. “Needed new denims…an’ unders…” she stammered. This is why Cap’n makes air quotes when he says I’m goin’ clothes shoppin’, she thought.

The sharp edges practically hugged either side of the suture prior to her actually cutting it. Alana turned to stare at Abby, mildly shocked by her bold statement. Of course, the excuse which followed was none the better. “Hey, I’m no one to question how you spend your time off. We all get the same urge...that’s what makes us human.” Alana resumed her work, pulling the thread aside before moving on the next. “I took some courses in women’s health, if ya ever have one of those questions...”

Alana went about the conversation casually, but inside she was beaming with pride as if Abby was her own blood. No girl at such a young age as hers should work away their youth without a little bit of fun here and there.

Questions was all Abby had. She’s positive ‘er face had tah be beat red jest now. Girl near bit ‘er tongue tah keep from blurtin’ out the truth she ain’ never done…it. Now they’s more folk think she’s out sewin’ oats ain’t yet growed…but wait. Mebbe…mebbe…

”Let them leap to their own conclusions. When you’re a spy, the misperceptions of those around you can be your greatest asset.”

But she weren’t no spy. Might never cross paths with Browncoats agin’. And the only fella she conjured bein’ with in that way was back on New Melbourne with jest one ‘o’ her kisses on his lips. Could make a body right frustrated, it could.

“Um…” she swallowed. “Thank yew, doc.” Best not tah keep runnin’ her mouth, afore she talks ‘erself right inta trouble.

"Anytime, Abby. I'm only looking out for you is all...us girls gotta stick together in the big nothingness out there." She cut another suture, and was just about done clearing them out at that point. Of course, the most critical lesson had yet to be communicated, despite it piling on to her patient's embarrassment. "Just remember next time you've got an itch to scratch, don't go sneaking out of the Doll while you've been given the order to rest. Promise?"

“Promise,” Abby nodded. She turned ‘er head tah look back over her shoulder. “An’ I’m powerful sorry. Truly I am.”

“No need to go feeling sorry for a thing...I was simply making sure you’d heal up nicely. Judging by how easy these are coming off, I’d say the mission was achieved.”

Alana cut and removed the last small piece, pausing for a second to look at the result. Sure, her bum was a bit red, but that was normal.

No pain. Abby felt the doc’s touch. Her fingers was warm enough, but the snippers she used raised goosebumps as they worked. A few tugs, an’ suddenly it was all over. “I feel fine,” she agreed. “Stopped limpin’ an’ feelin’ sore that night in tha black.”

It’s then tha question come. She pondered askin’ it. Ain’t never one tah tip ‘er hat tah vanity afore, but…things changed since New Melbourne. Still, with folk thinkin’ she’s out tomcattin’ ever’ Thomas, Dick’ an’ Harry while they’s in port, she worried that just askin’ might spark more knowin’ smiles an’ air quotes ‘bout her doin’s. The spy game was fun, but now she’s…

”Sometimes, a bad reputation can be a good thing.”

That give ‘er somethin’ new tah chew on, not tah mention conjurin’ jest how silly she’s bein’ over such a little worry. A smile crept onta her face as a song she liked just kinda locked ruth inta part ‘o’ her brain.



With them two votes behind ‘er, Abby cleared ‘er throat an’ spoke up. “Hey doc,” she said. “Cap’n says I might have a scar. Will it stop me wearin’ a bikini?”

She let escape an involuntarily chuckle at the girl’s question. “The captain says a lot of things...” Alana added with a subtle eye roll and head shake, that which was accompanied with a half-smile knowing Cal was the type to say such things. “You’ll be fine wearing a bikini... In fact, a scar will draw the attention of the boys to your pi gu, and now you have an awesome story to tell!”

Her enthusiasm carried over into giving Abby's cheek one last wipe to make it free of sutures or debris. "You're all set... Now you're ready to finally get that tan."

Abby thought on that fer a spell. She ain’t ever wore a bikini. Never had much call to. But she never knew when Cap’n might land ‘em a run back tah New Melbourne. Thomas…she didn’t even know if he’d wanna see her done up like that. But it weren’t til she commenced thinkin’ ‘bout him that she ever give much thought tah her looks. “Shiny,” the girl furrowed ‘er brow as new thoughts crossed. “Thank yew, Doc. Might git out an’ get tha tan right while we’re here.” She sat up on tha table afore droppin’ tah her feet. “But first? I’m takin’ a long, hot shower!”

Looks like Abby wasn't all work and no play after all. Alana was glad for the girl, getting herself a little R & R would do her good, whenever that was to happen. Maybe she would tag along too and keep her company. "Well, go on and wash up now, I'll leave you to change then come back and tidy up later. See you around!"

And with that, she left Abby to her own devices as she went off to the galley to grab a snack, tossing the gloves on the way out and closing the door behind her.
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Hidden 2 yrs ago 2 yrs ago Post by sail3695
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The Stowaway




Nothin’ quite so nice as a hot shower.

Abby let ‘er head loll as the jets hit twixt her shoulderblades. The water tumbled down her back, steamin’ hot as it rolled down ever’ part ‘o’ her. Curious fingers made their way tah her wound, an’ ain’t no doubt she could feel it. Like a ripple on a still pond, the girl conjured as she probed the firm little ridge.

She pondered the bullet. Abby’s no stranger tah seein’ what they could do to a body; the time Uncle Bob an’ ‘is crew put down them pirates give the girl all kindsa evidence fer how folk could git tore asunder. Ever’ time she ruminated on that, she grew more set of mind that the bullet what struck her had tah be a ricochet. Sure ‘n it bounced once or twice afore hittin’ me. Kinda explained it all. If that slug done hit ‘er first, by rights she’d be standin’ here without one, possibly both cheeks. Good luck, she settled her mind afore it could run toward tha next bullet what had her name…the one she ain’t met yet.

After a thoroughly fine scrubbin’, she stepped outta the shower an’ towelled off afore one ‘o’ them sink mirrors. Abby turned as she dried ‘er hair, eyes naturally drawn tah her new scar. There it was, plain as day…a vee shaped little red ridge on her light skin. Doc tole her the color’d fade over time, an’ she hoped that tah be true. Lookit me, she chided herself. Took a bullet an’ a kiss tah get me frettin’ over the looks ‘o’ my pi gu. The notion give ‘er a chuckle.

After chinos an’ boots, the deckhand pulled on a fresh tee shirt. Hai Tiki Bar - Pelorum emblazoned across ‘er chest. She ain’t never seen Pelorum ‘cept fer sittin on top ‘o’ Mariposa’s hull tah look at tha ocean. Shirt was a leave-behind from a passenger. She liked the colors..somethin’ folk called ‘tye-dye.’ She’s also partial tah the slogan…”Come get freaky at the Tiki.” Abby got no clue as tah the meanin’, but she figgered she might see fer herself someday.

But now, she had work in the engine room.

Boat’s on shore power, so everythin’ was all shut down an’ could be cleaned. First thing’s first was tidyin’ up after the houseguests. Rex’s hammock blankets an…ugh, unders…was heaped about, not tah mention a powerful load ‘o’ seeds Lucky done scattered.

She’s pushin’ broom when it bumped up agin’ a five gallon bucket. Not an odd sight fer an engine room, but this’n was all decorated in stickers an’ colored markers…placed upside down. Isaac’s? she pondered, curiosity wellin’ up over one ‘o’ his makeshift drums bein’ so far from home. A cookie sheet covered the top. Abby pulled it aside, peerin’ in to find herself being studied by two beady little eyes. “Mouse,” the girl shuddered. “On tha boat.”

Mouses...it ain’t tha one yah see what’s worrisome; it’s the hunnerd yah don’t. Runnin’ about the boat, raidin’ food stores, frightenin’ passengers, an’ makin’ more mouses. But the really huài de thing ‘bout mouses was them teeth. Mouses chewed ever’thin’. And sometimes that ‘ever’thin’ could be cables an’ hydraulic lines what kept the boat in tha air.

She had to tell Cap’n.

From inside the bucket, the stowaway stood on his hind legs, whiskers twitchin’ as he looked up at ‘er. This had to be Pen’s doin’. Would fit ‘er tah catch him alive an’ then keep ‘im someplace warm durin’ their cold flight. “So killin’s out,” she said. “Guess yew must be hungry…mayhaps thirsty, too.”

After scoopin’ up some ‘o’ Lucky’s seed an’ gettin’ water, Abby pondered jest what tah do with their passenger. “Yah can’t stay,” she whispered as he chewed a seed. “Guess yer gettin’ a new home. Let’s go.”

Abby carried the bucket outside the boat. Far end ‘o’ the tradeport was the landfill, with the jungle beyond. She conjured that to be his best option. “Welcome tah Greenleaf, Little One,” the girl said as she released the stowaway.
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Hidden 2 yrs ago 2 yrs ago Post by sail3695
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Truth-enstein?




“So, how we doin’?” Booth leaned through the kitchen door. “Doc getcha all fixed up?”

“Not a doctor yet,” Moshe applied the final wraps of the cast. “Stop it, Uncle Lenny!” he laughed as the attorney gave his hair a good tousling. “From what I can see, the medic on that boat you rode here took care of business. All I had to do was set up the cast.”

Yuri nodded. “I thought that as well. Nice to hear you say it, though.” He watched as the med student squeezed a tube above his arm, leaving a heavy stream of thick goop that was soon to be smeared into the wrappings. Moshe looked to be roughly his age. Behind the black framed glasses and intern’s lab coat, the family resemblance to “Uncle Lenny” was unmistakable.

“Finished,” Moshe proclaimed as he removed his gloves. “Now we let this cure for about ten minutes before we reapply the sling. How does it feel?”

“Warm.”

“That’s the curing process.” Moshe cleared the remnants of his work from the table. “Where’s Dad?”

The attorney stepped in. “His study…finishing breakfast.”

“Shiny,” the young medic made for the door. “Back in a few ticks.”

Booth sat across from Yuri. “Good kid,” he said of his nephew. “Had a rough patch there around seventeen…I did a little pro bono work for the rabbi to clear his record, and now look at him!”

The mechanic studied his new cast. “You and your family have done so much for me,” he shook his head. “This cast, hiding me in a synagogue overnight, and the food! Oh my god!”

The lawyer patted the beginnings of his paunch. “Hadassah can cook alright. She’s decided that if she can’t get me married off, the least she can do is fatten me up like my brother.” He leaned forward, elbows propped upon the checkered table cloth. “So…I had a friendly little chat with your boss…DeVillers? Really charming guy.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Yuri grunted.

“Yeah, you’re reading him alright. We’ve got a meet scheduled in a couple hours. Now here’s what’s gonna happen. Right about now, your company’s source box jockeys are finishing the address trace. I’m conjuring we got about ten ticks before the gorillas in the suits show up on either end of the block.”

The younger man’s brow furrowed. “Would they force their way in?”

Booth waved a hand. “Nah. Temple Shalom Khao Yai has cultivated a…symbiotic relationship…with the local Five-Oh. Anyway, we’re gonna march right out the front door with a couple uniforms. They’ll make with the lights and sirens on the way to my office, where a few of my associates will hang out to keep things serene…capiche?”

Yuri gave a dull nod. “This feels like a gangster movie.”

The attorney chuckled. “Count your lucky stars on that one, boyo. If we’d been tryin’ to dodge the local O.G? They’d still be hosing us off the pavement. Corporate contracts like this call for discretion, not to mention some legit sounding ex military types with all the bona fides. And that,” Booth smiled, “is what makes ‘em predictable. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be sitting here getting fat on Hadassah Büdenstein’s cooking.”

Yuri gave a curious tilt of his head. “Büdenstein? She’s your sister-in-law, no? It’s not Booth?”

“Shortened my name,” Lenny rose from his chair. “Salesmanship, my man! ‘Booth the Truth’ is something your average defendant can remember.” Sensing the younger’s skepticism, he added, “You try to make a catchy slogan with ‘Büdenstein’ that doesn’t remind people about dead bodies and electrodes in the neck. Now go on and make yourself pretty for the meeting.”

The mechanic obeyed, slipping his newly hardened cast into the sling before rising to leave. At the kitchen door, Yuri paused to offer a wry grin. “How’s this? Lenny Büdenstein, Attorney at Law…It’s alive?”

“Don’t sell the tool kit yet, kid.”
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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by MK Blitzen
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What Goes Up Part 1

Outskirts of Khao Yai Greenleaf


OOC: JP between @Winters, @MK Blitzen @Yule











Cyd leaned against the shuttle reading a brochure while the boys changed. In her head she was making checklists. What to keep eyes on, what had to be done, what came next.The oppressive heat convinced her to tie her oversized Dyton Tech Tee-Shirt at the waist. “Tour bus leaves at 1400, sharp,” she reminded them, shaking the brochure as they stepped through the hatch.

“Wouldn’t want to be late for that,” Mathias, who would rather remove his eye teeth than go on a ‘group tour’, snapped as he rolled his eyes.

“Ja nee?” she agreed even though she knew he was being sarcastic. Isaac winked an affirmative response, his almond eyes partially obscured by the fake horned rimmed glasses he was wearing to make him look, in his own words, more ‘sciency.’ “I want to get to see some of the jungle and besides,” she fanned herself with the brochure for emphasis. “It’s air conditioned.” The latter part seemed even more important now with the oppressive heat. For her part, Cyd carried her cortex and extra gear in a backpack slung over one shoulder. “They were serious about the climate, it’s lank humid,” she commented, worrying a bit about her equipment in this kind of weather. “Stark contrast to the fish ship, oweh?”

“I liked the fish ship better eh? Feel like I'm swimming around rather than walking.” Mathias said already feeling the film of instant sweat forming from the insane humidity and heat.

“Don’t worry, according to what I saw, the Iab is a cool, comfortable climate controlled 72 degrees at all times - except for the greenhouses but you two won’t be anywhere near them. “Visitor badge,” she continued, handing her ‘sciency’ brother a laminated visitor badge with his photo.

"Look at our Lolo … looking all grown up. With a respectable job …" Mathias sniffed, wiping a fake tear away. " … it's making my glasses fog up!"

"Seriously, does he have to come??" Isaac whined, one hand jabbing a thumb towards his older brother, the other defending against the impending hair tousling.

"Oh, should we take a picture? You know like those other parents when their kid starts school or something but you know … grand larceny … other than that exactly the same." Mathias chuckled, fighting Isaacs flapping hands to try and tousle the poor kid's hair.

Cyd shot Mathias [i] the look[i], “Really?” She said with an exasperated sigh.

"Pardon me for wanting to cherish every moment." Mathais said, trying to keep a straight face and failing as he fell into giggles.

"I'll cherish your moments." The younger Skye grumbled. It sounded more menacing in his head. "So are we ready or not?" He asked, his expression petulant.

"I've been ready. We're just waiting for you, you remember your lunchbox?" Mathias teased.

Isaac clicked his teeth with his tongue, clearly annoyed, as he half heartedly raised his backpack to show his brother.

Cyd shot one more warning glance before activating the com in her ear, tapping her temple to remind the boys to do the same. “Give me seven minutes to set up, then Mathias, you’re up,” she said, bringing them both ‘round on the task at hand. “Seven minutes!”

Mathias saluted playfully as Cyd walked off to be their overwatch.

Cyd returned the salute with a single finger as she went to set up her gear.

Isaac snickered at his sister's gesture and looked to his brother. "Dork."

"You don't even know what that means." Mathias said, shaking his head sadly.
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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by Winters
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What Goes Up Part 2

Xengenics Lab, Khao Yai Greenleaf


OOC: JP between @Winters, @MK Blitzen @Yule










Despite the humidity, Cyd set up where she could keep eyes on the building, ignoring her brother's antics while she tapped away on her keypad. Line after line scrolled in front of her, looking for an in. Cameras, cameras, cameras…. Luckily the time on the shuttle gave her an opportunity to find the breach she needed. “I’ve got the cameras,” She told her sibs as they appeared on her screen. “Mat, do what you do.”

"Did you give us a code name … ah, nevermind going in." Mathias walked along checking his watch and picking up his pace. The guard would be heading for his smoke break like he did every day at the same time to the same spot. It was secret and out of the way. Bless smokers and their habits.

"You're now 'Dork One'." Isaac giggled as he whispered into his ear mic. "Dork One is on the move." He added as he slipped casually behind a corner waiting for Mathias's next move.

Mathias snorted as he turned the corner and saw a man in a grey guard uniform struggling with his lighter and muttering a stream of curses. "Hey lemme help you out with that." Mathias offered with a smile as he dug in his pocket for a lighter.

"Thanks man. I've been meaning to get a new one but I keep forgetting." He said gratefully accepted the fresh lighter just as he got sucker punched.

The guard went down hard and Mathias almost felt bad for the guy. "Whale penis one to whale penis two. You suck." He smiled as he stripped and bound the guard. The outfit was a bit tight but it was passable. Taking the card he ran it through the small wireless sniffer for Cyd to record. "The wolf is in sheep clothing …"

Isaac cocked his head to one side in confusion but then heard his cue to head over. When he stepped out, he has already put on the party store lab coat they had picked up earlier and was stuffing his backpack into a cooler brightly labeled 'BIOHAZARD'. As he closed the cooler, he quickened his pace to hits brother's location. "Dude! Why would you give us those call signs??? That's way worse than 'Dork'!" Isaac protested to Mathias.

“We’re not using call signs,” Cyd reprimanded, keeping her eye on the screens. Time check, cameras. Cameras on the first floor were successfully looped, meaning she’d have to be selective over when to let footage through so it wouldn’t be suspicious if it were empty all the time. “Unless I get to make them up. Just get him up to the 74th floor, get me plugged in, and get out.”

"Killjoy." Mathias accused quietly. "What, you started it, whatcha think a dork is … dork." He pointed out to his brother as he opened the door to let him in first.

Isaac shrugged as he walked past 'Officer' Mathias. "I dunno….you?" He smirked as he quickened his pace to get out of smacking range. After his brother followed inside, he slowed to get side by side with him to really sell the whole 'security escorted delivery' vibe. "Ok," he whispered to their eye in the sky while looking straight ahead, "which way to the elevators?"

“You’re going to want to take the ones on the west side of the building. Turn right at the next corridor and follow it half way down,” She directed. Time check, cameras, sibs. “Be careful, you have actual security coming up before then.”

"Hmm hm." Mathias replied, lowering his cap a bit. It was amazing what you could get away with when you walked in looking and acting like you belong. People rarely cared, particular when you looked like you worked at the lowest pay grade. Mathias walked escorting his scientist brother like it was just another day.

Isaac adjusted the for of his coat by shimmying his shoulders a little and stood a bit straighter, his demeanor serious. Dang it. Should've bought a pocket protector, he thought to himself. Clearly, so scientists have those, but he figured they'd just have to make do. The two approached the small guard's desk. Isaac slowed his pace a half step to allow Mathias to take the lead speaking to the guards.

“Camera will be on the left side in the elevator, “ Cyd warned. “I have to give live feed, heads down and right.”

The guard was busy reading a book with only the occasional glance up at the monitor. He didn't even notice Mathias at first till he cleared his throat. The man saw the uniform and the lab coat and slid a clipboard for the pair to sign in.

Mathias scribbled a name on the paper before passing it back. The man grunted, waved them along and clicked the buzzer to let them through.

Already having received a warning for the camera location Mathais made sure to stand at his brother's right side using his taller frame to obfuscate Issac as they waited for the elevator, his head tilted slightly down and to the right.

Isaac remained in lockstep with his brother, his straight ahead as his eyes darted until they caught sight of the camera their sister warned them about. He looked straight ahead and whispered "Ten o'clock high" to alert Mathias.

Mathais gave an imperceptible nod as he gave a focused but bored look. Fortunately, he did need to act mildly irritated, given how damn slow the elevator was. After what seemed like a month of Sundays, the elevator door gave a depressing ding as the pair had to step aside letting the people who had rode down out. At least the elevator was going to be empty for the ride up. 'Happy thoughts Mathias' he thought to himself and he pressed the button for the requested floor.

Isaac remained stone faced, really trying to sell the whole 'serious professional' thing, even if it was to an audience of exactly zero actual employees. He dared not glance at his brother for fear he'd start giggling. The floors counted up agonizingly slow. 20...21...22...his fingers tapped on the plastic handle of the cooler instinctively to the rhythm of the numbers changing on the small digital screen above the buttons.

"All this money dumped into the eyesore and you would think … hey let's install high tech fast moving elevators but nope … they go out of their way to find, hands down, the shittiest slowest moving elevators in the 'verse." Mathais muttered quietly.

31...32...33...Isaac added a little syncopation in his finger tapping to counter point the elevator's beat. Very softly, he absentmindedly started singing "You're a shining star...no matter who you are…"

" … shining bright to see … what you can truly be … Now cut the shit." Mathais whispered.
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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by Yule
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What Goes Up Part 3

Xengenics Lab, Khao Yai Greenleaf


OOC: JP between @Winters, @MK Blitzen @Yule










Isaac cleared his throat, coughing into one of his fists before straightening up again and being all serious. Act like a scientist. Act like a scientist. He thought to himself.

The pair continued the stand there in silence stopping at a floor picking up people continuing up and dropping them off. Finally they hit the 74th floor and the duo step through. "Good luck." Mathias winked. Though he was sure his baby bro didn't need it.

Isaac nodded and stepped out, getting his bearings of the floor layout. "Ok, guardian angel" he said softly, "where to?"

Cyd eyed the different boxes on the screen, quickly planning out the best route for him. “Left,” she directed. “You’re going to pass a row of labs, I’ve got cameras off you, just try not to draw too much attention. Company is around the corner, so go, now, walk.” She directed in a calm, even tone. Her eyes flicked between the numerous boxes on her screen. “Cubbies on your right, third one is open, we’re gonna let security walk on by. Third cube, go.”

Isaac dutifully followed his sister's instructions. Left, don't draw attention, third cubby. Just as he stepped into it, the guards in question turned into the hallway. The teen crouched down in the cubby and stayed motionless, holding his breath as the two guards walked by, oblivious to his presence. Once they passed, he let out a relieved long exhale. "Ok...now what?"

She hurriedly pulled her hair into a loose bun to give the back of her neck some much needed relief, all that was missing now was a cool breeze. None came, just more humidity, like a damp wool blanket covering every inch. “Back the way you came,” She said, her voice slightly muffled by the hair tie she held in her teeth. “You’ll see a hallway beside Lab G,” Cyd directed, giving it a quick scan as she wrapped the band around her hair. “It looks clear, but haul ass, they got a timer on the coffee maker due off soon - that means someone will be taking a break. Server room is at the end of that hall. Mathias- how we looking on your end?”

"Just trying to look like I know what I'm doing. They changed the layout of the cubicle. Can you give me a little point in the right direction?" Mathias said walking at a leisurely pace to buy him time so it didn't start looping around in circles.

“Okay, hold on, “ Cyd said, opening a box larger on the screen, to get a bird’s eye of Mathias’ surroundings. “You’re looking for the desk of Kari Boone in IT. I don’t have much. Vampire books, and she’s got a thing for sunflowers, according to her social pages.”

"Cubical number or am I just looking for a blood-sucking sunflower?" Mathais asked, turning down an aisle looking for a splash of yellow.

“They must have moved recently. Try the one in the corner, “ she said after a brief pause, zoming in. “Sunflower photo frame. Picture of a black cat in it.” Probably named Edward or Stephan, she inwardly scowled.

"Oh she's one of those.” Mathais said, keeping his face neutral." As he turned to be line for the corner desk. "There an event or something going on? I'm not complaining but it seems a bit light in the office right now." He checked his watch. "Or it could be lunch."

“Exec on the fifty-third got infected with a nasty virus,” Cyd said with a hint of pride,. “Kari’s currently keeping it from backdooring itself into the main server. She’ll be busy for a bit.”

"This is why I am glad you're on my side." Mathias said, using his height to peek over a few walls. "I think I see it." He announced his feet moving a little faster.

“It’s going to be a fob, check the desk or if she has a bag or something,” Cyd directed, turning her eyes back to Isaac.

"On it. I'll report when I find it." Mathias assured.

“Great, LoLo, how’s it?”

"Just got to the server room." Isaac confirmed softly. The foot traffic on the floor was very light, only a few star dotted here and there. Few bothered to even look up and the one or two that did didn't do so long enough to take an interest in him. Drones. He couldn't imagine life trapped behind a desk. He almost felt sorry for them, but there was no time to think about that right now. He put his finger up to the ten digit keypad. The intel had been good so far. It would suck if this is where it went to hell. He quietly held his breath and punched in the door code...2...4...6...0...1. The lock clicked and the handle was able to turn freely. He wasn't sure if the exhale he instinctively let out in relief blew his cover but a quick side eye left and right allayed his fears. He slipped inside and the door clicked behind him. "I'm in." Immediately, he began searching for his quarry. A few of the servers had workstations built into them which were little more than a screen and keyboard interrupting the otherwise smooth lines of the monoliths that were stacked in rows filling the room. Fortunately for him, bureaucratic technicians were meticulous as the tall black rectangles all had been conveniently labeled for easy identification during maintenance. He quickly located the right one and squared off with it's interface. He scanned it for ports until he found slots where he could insert the dongle. He snickered, then he inserted the device into the machine. "The dongle has landed." He smirked as he spoke softly into the earpiece. "I repeat, the dongle has landed.”

“Sit tight a sec,” Cyd said absently, cussing the name bestowed on the useful hardware. The screen lit up, as she tapped away, lines of colored code scrolling, interrupted only when she’d glance to keep eyes on Mathias. “I’ve got the remote!” She said excitedly. How could she NOT be? It actually worked! “Downloading the files, few more minutes, Yobo, where are we with the key fob?” She glanced down at the time. Getting the intel was one thing, it would be useless if they couldn’t decrypt it.

"Uuuuuh …" Mathias cleared his throat. "... The fob isn't here." The eldest had, neatly, torn apart the little cubicle. All obvious places had been checked first, then draws, pen holders, anything that could be a container. Hell he even checked under the damn keyboard. "... But her login is 'Sunfl0wers123<3'." Mathias groused.

“Well, that’s a start,” Cyd said, swearing under her breath. “I can get into her system and see if there’s an encryption program stored, or… “ She tapped the screen a few times. “You can find her on the 53rd floor, still working on the exec’s system, I don’t see a bag, so it may be on her person.”

"Right … when's her lunch break?" Mathias asked, thinking as he scratched the back of his neck.

“Probably when she clears up that virus. Let me know when you’re in place, and I’ll make sure that happens, “ Cyd promised.

"I can always go to her?" Mathias suggested. "No telling how long it's going to take unless you plan on sneaking and doing her job for her."

Cyd shifted her eyes to catch both screens, opening another box to check on Kari.“I put the virus, I can make it go away. If you get to the 53rd floor, I’ll make sure you run into her. You do your thing,”

"I can hear the smug from all the way here." He teased heading to the elevator. "On my way."

“Eyes on you… whale dick one,” Cyd teased back, keeping her voice completely serious.

"Oh NOW you like the code names …" Mathais said, smothering a laugh as he got in the elevator.
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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by MK Blitzen
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What Goes Up Part 4

Xengenics Lab, Khao Yai Greenleaf


OOC: JP between @Winters, @MK Blitzen @Yule










Cyd let out a slow breath, moving boxes around on the screen, trying to keep eyes everywhere. Time check. Camera Check. Sib Check. Downloads. “One more file to go, Lolo.”

"So long as I don't get a whale penis codename." Isaac bristled. "Stupid dork." He grumbled as he tapped on the edges of the keyboard waiting for the download to finish. All in all, this whole thing might go pretty painlessly. He patted at the plastic housing as he watched the little completion bar slowly fill. "Too bad we couldn't BASE jump or do some sort of exciting escape like in all of those action flicks." He said to no one in particular. He spent quite a bit of his free time consuming low budget action and spy shows on how sister's cortex. "It's never as exciting as on the vids." He complained.

“You don’t have the weight to BASE jump from this height,” Cyd said rationally. “You’d get tossed around like a leaf, end up lost in the jungle. Mathias… he should be okay.”

"Only because he has such a fat head." Isaac giggled.

“Says the guy who got his stuck in a cannon,” Cyd quipped back absently, focusing her attention on the screens. Time check, camera, sibs, downloads. That wasn’t the order of importance, mind you, but they all needed to be watched.

"He could try and weight lift? Or just strap some weights to his feet." Mathias suggested.

"Zip line?" The younger Skye continued suggesting. "Shoot an arrow at a neighboring building with a grappling hook attachment."

"That only works in the movies." Mathias scoffed.

"Fly over train heist!" Isaac offered with excitement.

"Don't be stupid … who even do that?" You could hear the eye roll in Mathias's tone.

“Focus,” Cyd pleaded, regretting her decision to kid around with them in the first place. Time check. Cameras. Sibs. Shit! “Mathias, take a hard right, you got a gaggle of suits coming from the left.”

"I see 'em." Mathias acknowledged keeping his head down and giving ample room, his shoulder nearly brushing against the wall to stay out of the way. It was phenomenal how with the right costume how invisible you can become. In an office like this it was all the easy to move unnoticed.

“Your mark is next to the corner office on the south side, you’ll see a reception area, and then it’s a straight walk. Mark is a blond ponytail, wearing blue on black,” Cyd studied the woman for a moment. “Cute, little older than us, tragic fringe on her forehead, but she’ll be the one smiling ear to ear because she…” Cyd deleted a few lines quickly, wrangling the virus back up, “just unfoked the terminal. You’re up.” Sibs. Download.

Mathias slowed and shortened his stride just a hair, sipping a bit of water he had nabbed from the cooler. He looked away as if something else had caught his interest, Mathais wanted to sell this after all and bumped right into the poor girl as she was making a hasty exit from the cubicle. The water in the cup went flying.

"Oh! OH! I am SO sorry!" Mathias said, quickly digging out a napkin from his pocket. "It's just water I swear! I wasn't looking where I was going, it was totally on me …" He apologized trying to hastily but politely wipe off the excess water from the poor women.

“No, no, it’s fine,” she told him, taking the napkin from him to dry off. “I only wear stain resistant, so, even if it were red wine,” she caught a glimpse of his blue eyes and smiled. “Not that you’d be drinking red wine, at work, I mean. Maybe after work you would. Oh, I’m not not suggesting drinking with me, or that we get a drink, you know what, this has HR written all over it. Thanks for the uh… water.”

"Maybe … you I mean I would never assume, just don't often have call to drink wine and …" Mathais fumbled his words. " … not that I think it's not nice or anything, it's perfectly fine. Okay I am going to take my foot out of my mouth." Mathias cleared his throat. "If you … you need anything, later or after work I mean you least I can do for having two left feet … just look around the one security guy fumbling around." He said with a weak but bright smile.

“I might,” She offered. “I’m Kari, from 74. IT. “

"Ooh la la!" Isaac teased in his brother's earpiece. "This is better than Cyd's trashy shows!"

"Jimi security … I'm um … just a temp." He said, extending a hand to the girl.

"I love you, Kari. You're the only one for me." Isaac said in an exaggerated sultry voice.

“Sarah sent two messages. You want me to read them to you over the com?” Cyd asked. Time Check. Cameras. Sibs. Downloads.

Isaac gasped. "Could you?" He asked excitedly.

Cyd couldn’t help but roll her eyes, just like Isaac to call a bluff. “Files are done. Grab the dongle, head down to Mat, coast looks clear Lo. Mathias, head to the east side elevators, Isaac, go the opposite way you came in … "

"As you say whale penis 3 … " Mathias complied in a lackadaisical tone.

"Gross." Isaac interjected.

Time check. “Yeah, just – “ Cameras. Cyd’s train of thought stopped at the cameras, staring at the screen in momentarily disbelief. “No, no no no… “ Sibs! “LoLo get out of there, Mathias, do NOT take the elevator. There’s a…” A piercing alarm assaulted the ears of everyone in the building, strobe lights by the ceiling flashing as an alert as well. It was the same way they’d describe some of the raves they’d been too, complete with shouting people and panic. “Fire on the ground floor,” Cyd told them. “They’re evac’ing the building. Lo, you gotta get out of there, now.”

"No sweat." Isaac said cheerfully as he popped out the dongle and headed for the exit. "Lucky for us, huh? All we gotta do is just walk out with everyone else-" He was halfway there when large metal shutters descended on the windows and door of the server room. "Uuuhhh….whale penis one? …...help?"
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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by Winters
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Winters

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What Goes Up Part 5

Xengenics Lab, Khao Yai Greenleaf


OOC: JP between @Winters, @MK Blitzen @Yule










“Server room lockdown,” Cyd said under her breath.

"I'm sorry did you say lockdown?" Mathias said, stopping in his tracks.

"I didn't do anything, I swear!" Isaac exclaimed in his defense.

“The server room, to protect the data,” Cyd explained. “Several of the labs, they shutter in. There may be a release from inside in case this happens,Lo, plug the dongle back in, I’ll see if I can remote you back out or find the release.. Sit tight.” Change of plans- disable the alarms.

Isaac moped back over to the server terminal. "It's not even funny to say anymore." He complained as he plugged the dongle back in. As the system started up, he scanned around the room. "What would a release…thingie...even look like?"

“Little green box,” Cyd told him. “Maybe blue, somewhere near one of the access points, it’ll have two arrows and a circle on it. You may have to break glass - look for something like that. You look for that, I’ll see if I can…”, she chewed the inside of her cheek, “figure something out.”

"Got it." Isaac confirmed as he began his search.

“Mathias –” Cyd was at a loss. She couldn’t tell him to get out of there - there’s no way he’d leave either of them behind, not anywhere, not ever. But if the fire spread… She wouldn’t let her mind go there. It would be fine, and they could explain Isaac being locked inside, maybe.

"I'm going to him." Mathias stated. "No one's going to question a security guard going up anyway." He added moving with hurting long strides through the crush of people heading to the stairs.

Cyd searched the files using the password Mathias found on Kari’s desk - but this was new territory. They’d set off an alarm before for a distraction, but everything she was trying was falling short. Time check was useless, cameras were still in play, sibs, alarm.

It was nearly impossible to track Mathias with the cameras. He was heading up, but with the amount of people in the stairwell and the flashing lights, he wouldn’t even be able to hear over the noise. “Lolo, any luck?” She asked, trying to sound calm as file after file opened.

"Yes!" Isaac crowed triumphantly as he located the escape button pretty much like what his sister has described. With a newfound confidence that they were gone free, he pressed the button. He could hear the locking mechanism release...then re-engage. His confidence instantly changed to dread. "No!!" he shouted as he frantically clicked the button again and again, the lock disengaging and, a moment later, re-engaging. "C'mon c'mon c'mon!! It won't stay open" His voice was high pitched and panicked.

“Okay, easy, Lolo.” Cyd soothed, keeping her voice calm even though her heart wanted to settle as a giant lump in her throat. “I’m trying to kill the alarm, as soon as I can do that, it’ll disengage.” She didn’t bring up that wasn’t likely to happen until the fire was out, as it were, another set of sprinklers had just been set off. “It’ll just take me a minute, okay? Sit tight, Sit tight.”

"Okaaaay…. Ok." Isaac said, slowing his breathing trying to calm himself down. "Hey, just uh….just wondering," he inquired, "how do you know if you're claustrophobic?"

“Your head has been stuck in way too many places for you to be claustrophobic,” Cyd promised. Cleithrophobia, well, that was an entirely different story. Cameras. Sibs. Alarm. “We’ll have you out in just a tick. Want to play a game? I spy?”

"I'm not a baby, Cyd!" Isaac huffed. But after a long pause, he finally said "I spy with my little eye, something...uh...blue."

Mathias was dealing with his own issues fighting against the tide of people. The din was loud and. He could barely hear his own thoughts, much less the conversation at hand.

“Something blue…” Cyd said absently, trying both to shut off the alarm and keep Isaac calm. Big tanker skiffs, their own sirens blaring pulled up to the building. “Can’t be my hair. That’s more of an aqua. I’m going to go with server lights?” She kept her head down and away from the officials rushing into the building, trying to come up with a plan.

"I should've picked something harder." Isaac grumbled. "Seriously, though. Why are these server rooms always blue?? Like even in the action flicks! And I'm thinking to myself 'No way it's really like that.' Then I come in here and what do I see? Blue…. everywhere! It's so….cliché, man."

“Blue is cheaper to mass produce,” Cyd said, trying another. Cameras. Sibs. Alarm. “And probably because some exec thinks it looks high tech. You’re almost home free.”
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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by Yule
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Yule

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What Goes Up Part 6

Xengenics Lab, Khao Yai Greenleaf


OOC: JP between @Winters, @MK Blitzen @Yule










Mathis after what felt like an eternity fighting the crowd finally popped out at the proper floor. "Next time I bring a bat!" Mathias grumbled. "Okay where do I go?"

“Right!” Cameras, sibs, alarm. Cyd opened the camera screen to the evacuated floor. “Keep going, keep going, past these lab doors,” she white knuckle held onto the data pad, not sure what Mathias would do, but the fact that he was there was comforting. “Keep going, keep going, keep going, there! See the hallway?”

Given the floor was clear, Mathias was able to move at a run, skidding around the corner and down the hallway. "Almost there!" He said racing down the hall.

Isaac made his way back to the button and awaited instructions. "Ready when you are!" He said, sounding markedly relieved.

Cyd glanced around. The fire department weren’t the only ones showing up for what she hoped didn’t turn out to be the next Towering Inferno. “The door won’t release with an active alarm, and the outside of the building is getting to be an ugly shade of purple.”

"Alright." Mathias said banging on the shutters. "I'm here, let's do this while there's plenty of chaos to blend into."

"Ok," Isaac shouted through the door, "on three! One...two... three!" With that he pushed the button and the sound of the locking mechanism releasing could be heard amplified through the metal shutters. "Now!" He yelled to his brother.

Mathias wedged his fingers between the shutters. He widened his stand a bit, braced and with a strained grunt struggled to budge the shutter. It moved a little and Mathias was able to adjust a grip to gain better leverage. He took a deep breath, fighting for every inch and thankful for his brothers smaller and slimmer.

Isaac saw the movement of the shutter blocking the door. It didn't get very far up from the floor but he figured it might be just enough. He opened the inner door and was just about to start making his way out when he said "Just a sec!" to his brother, popping back inside.

"ARE YOU FREAKING SERIOUS?!" Mathias gasped. That was it he was going to euthanize Issac the moment he stepped out of the server room.

A moment later, Isaac's hand popped out from under the shutter, holding his prize. "Almost forgot the dongle!" He said as he started shimmying his way out from his nerd prison. He wriggled his way past Mathias's legs and shouted "Clear!" once his feet were safely out of the way.

Mathias let go of the shutter, his hand slipping. He gripped his hand a deep cut across his palm quickly welling with blood. It was quickly followed up with a stream of curses and multiple languages.

Isaac leapt to his feet. "Shit! Are you ok??" He went to check on Mathias's injury. "I'll go get some paper towels!" He said as he ran to the nearest breakroom to search for anything to staunch the bleeding.

Cyd breathed a sigh of relief when Isaac was freed, only to have it taken back when Mathias was hurt. Sibs, camera, exit. “Yobo, howzit?”

"Fine." Mathias with another hiss of pain. "Just trying not to bleed on anything. Lolo's getting something to stauch it. How's our exit plan looking?"

“Go up two flights, you are going to love this,” she promised as she scrubbed any footage she missed from the camera.

Isaac hurried back with a big wad of folded dispenser hand towels he managed to grab from one of the restrooms. "Here, this should help." He said as he handed them to his brother. "Cyd, why up?" Isaac asked confused.

Mathis jammed the wads of paper into his wounded hand, holding it right to stay the bleeding. "Less talkie talking more walkie walkie. Seriously if we're taken the window washing trolley again you and I are going to have words…" he said heading back to the stairwell towing his brother with his good hand.

“If it’s stupid and it works, it’s not stupid,” Cyd reminded him. “You’re going to see a row of lights and lit exit signs, follow them,” she directed once they reached the 75th floor.

"Can't argue with that logic." Isaac said as he excitedly took the lead. "It's like a scavenger hunt!"

"A scavenger hunt he says." Mathias snorted.

The pair moved quickly guided by their eyes in the sky sister till they could upon an open area with a hole in the floor and what looked like tight white cloth leading down.

"The hell is that? A hole. We're pulling an Alice in Wonderland?" Mathias asked, looking to his brother with a cocked eyebrow.

“Yes. Get your Tweedle Dee and Dum selves into the chute, it’s a collapsible fire escape, fastest way down, I’ll meet you at the bottom.” Camera, sibs.

"Holy shit! That's amazing!" Isaac squealed, forgetting about his wounded sibling and running over to check out the escape chute.

"Go Lolo … you first." Mathias said, nudging his smaller brother.

"Really???" Isaac's eye lit up at Mathias's generous offer, then remembered his brother's injury. "But…are you gonna be ok to go with that?" He motioned his chin to the hand Mathias was nursing.

"Sure I mean worst case … you'll make for a dandy crashpad." Mathias chuckled.

"Sweet!!" The younger Skye squeaked, completely oblivious to the potential consequences. He looked over the device. "Soooooo….how do I enter this thing?" But before waiting for a response, he slid in headfirst.

"He's gonna get stuck … if there's a hole he always gets stuck." Mathias sighed going in feet first, like how the instructions on the wall said to.

“If there’s a hole, he always gets stuck,” Cyd said alongside her brother. She peeled herself from the park bench and dropped the data pad in her pack. Avoiding attracting any unwanted attention, she walked at a brisk pace to the back of the building where some of the fire fighters were helping scientists and workers out of the emergency chute, waiting for Isaac and Mathias. She craned her neck back, looking up for signs of them. Sibs.
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