The hubub that followed the raid and Hugh’s appearance had wound down somewhat, once again replaced with more monotone routine with the exception of the Lumberjack retrieval sortie, and even that was disappointing in a petty way as none of them got to drive it back. On one hand it would’ve been an interesting entry in the logbook, on the other she’d have paid to see Ingrid driving an IndustrialMech. Fortunately one of Lister’s buddies from supply found two fairly fresh decks of cards in the captured trucks and organized a poker game with whoever felt like joining, once they carefully scrubbed the markings off the cards. Just a few overturned crates for seating with a pile of garbage from MREs in the middle of the ‘table’ - empty coffee packets were one tenth of a C-Bill, jam packs stood for a fifth, empty creamers for a half and gum wrappers for a whole C-Bill.

The day’s topic of idle chatter was news from Portveyn and the Heavenly Sword broadcast. Though the maniacs weren’t wrong calling them capitalist sellswords - like there was anything wrong with that - their actions shook up the state of things. She thought of an alliance, or rather a continuation of their contract with the loyalists as a done deal. Well that went up in flames. Literally. Had uncle Kjell been there, he would’ve given her no small amount of shit for calling a hit before the salvo landed so to speak, and would have been absolutely correct. Now the Fists knew they were still capable of fighting and their most effective potential ally had been badly maimed. Xiu was hardly a strong or popular leader, that much was clear even before it all went to shit, but how long would it take the loyalists to get back on their feet, if they would at all? Not bad for a group their briefing before the supply raid labeled a non-threat. And with the content and phrasing of the proclamation, they earned themselves a place pretty high on Marit’s shitlist. Maybe even higher than the Fists themselves.

The Colonel’s call to action stations put an end to both her thoughts and the game. With everyone dropping what they were holding and making a beeline toward wherever they would be most useful, Rimmer made sure to knock the table over as he passed, making it impossible to tell who had what and how much he lost. Fortunately, it was a false alarm. Old lady had some balls to walk in there, that was for sure, but she could’ve said she was friendly earlier so Marit wouldn’t have pulled an achilles tendon trying to get around the table-crate. [color=76D0FF]”Think she’s thrown her lot in with the NPDRE and realized the best way to get rid of us is to give us our people back, pack us into our ships and send us on our merry way?”[/color] Marit asked the room, getting several shaking heads in response. [color=76D0FF]”Yeah, me neither, but it would’ve been nice.”[/color] Still, the woman’s offer was interesting - and a lot more appealing than trying for the FPA - so she hobbled closer to hear where it will go, hoping the Colonel won’t take the negotiations somewhere private.