---

Sarvenolos was, for the most part, staying quiet at his seat. The bar had acted as a gravitational anchor, pulling in various individuals of different races and professions to a single place. It seemed that no matter who or what you are, drinking alcoholic beverages is the one commonality.

People had been introducing themselves to one another now. He up names. Lopez. Velia. John. Ren. Ginny. A few others. There appeared to be a priestess of a Kiellar faith present, along with members of other primitive races that had been integrated to the Edenite nation. As he drank from his glass, Sarve noticed that the others were all feeling rather uncomfortable in the heat. Not Sarve, though. In fact, he had more trouble when it comes to colder temperatures simply because his serpentine body plan didn't exactly do wonders for retaining heat. It's why Morelians were at home in the jungle and in the desert… but never in the tundra, in ice, or wherever it's too cold. So, right now, the heat was just a moderate warmth to him. It didn't even cause any sweating.

Still, it was clear that temperature controls were down. Sooner or later, the heat will become unbearable, even for him. The other races would probably be dying from heatstroke before he does… but Sarve wouldn't classify himself as a selfish person. Not when cooperating with a sufficiently numbered collective was advantageous toward survival in situations like this… like the end of the world.

Oh, and of course, Verminslayer would feel the heat, too. The cat may enjoy lounging on sunbeams and on top of working machinery… but she wouldn't like being in the desert.

He knocked back another drink, set the glass down with a clink, then stood, retrieving his rifle from where it rested against the bar.

“Shall we move then?”
@InfamousGuy101

“Perhaps I could assist. I could fit in-” Sarve began, but before he could finish his proposal, Verminslayer jumped away, seemingly abandoning him for… something. The cat quickly moved away from the counter, prompting Sarve to quickly begin uncoiling himself. “Verminthlayer! Get back here!” He called after his cat as he dunked the last of the tequila into his mouth using his prehensile tongues and set it back on the bar counter. The Morelian slithered to the bar’s entrance, just to see his cat walking towards the departure area.

“Verminslayer! Is there something you smell?”

As it would turn out, Verminslayer had indeed found something… interesting.

Across the room was a Gendari, sitting on his mobility scooter, visibly fuming with annoyance. This wasn't just any Gendari, either, but the Gloriont himself. Not that Verminslayer understood what a Gloriont was. She didn't care about such titles. She just knew that he was small. Awfully small.

She prepared herself to pounce even as Sarve slithered towards her.

Reenneesuash (Ren to humans) daughter of veanamdarr

Escape? A chance of an escape that seemed impossible was now looking a lot more probable and Ren looked more focused and feeling less tired despite own body's demands for rest. They had a chance and she really did not want to die in this metal tomb. Pilot, engineering, FTL, shuttle? They had a decent mix of skills and a few former or remaining military members.

Just maybe things had become less impossible and more just really difficult.
“Hydro, yeah, give me parts and maybe loot the station a bit.. we can rig something up.” She said feeling more confident again and having a purpose, a goal to aim for a target to seek instead of an aimless drinking the apocalypse into the last light.

“I can run a power loader. If there is any left that is.” Ren added, she had some useful skills to add to the group as a whole. She could run a class 3, a class 5 would be her limit, heavy industrial stuff was too different to the kind they used in the lab.

“Working with is far easier than against the flow.” Ren said gladly, forcing the gate in a rogue power loader and breaching it by brute force was a problem.

The heat still got to the Kieller and this was far too hot unlike the woman in the jacket who was entirely too comfortable in this insane heat. Really, was it mechanical error or ran by the race?

The figure in the enclosed suit was an odd one and this figure was probably disliking the heat even more than the rest of the survivors. Ren did not know the exact details but had a reconnection of sealed environment suits, this one was a pattern of some kind not used in Northlands labs. Or not seen personally anyway.

A tall Kiseller Marine… Rifle slung and military firepower, a lot better than the small pistol she had stolen from the doomed company armoury among other items she had managed to pilfer to help survive another day.

“Better to try. Id rather try than hide in dark and wait.” Ren agreed with the idea of working to try something even if it failed, she tried to do something and that was cathartic.

The snake figure and a small primitive race, more obscure than the main 3 races who made bulk of the population and she peobbly could of recalled them in detail if more rested and more clear headed. This heat was just far too oppressive to help her minds function.

@Pragia12

---

Vitiafa was content to sit and listen while she drank the glass of chilled wine provided to her courtesy of a megacorp's expense report at the end of world. The heavy, full-bodied red was rich, jammy, and fruity. It wasn't to her tastes, but it did provide a momentary relief from the heat as she gathered her thoughts.

"This is just another evacuation we are planning," Vitiafa said as she finished the glass, "let us treat it like one as the gods have never blessed mere bluster."

"Send our two pilots and two," she held up two fingers for emphasis, "of us inclined with engineering to the ship, they shall try to get it running. The two EDF ground personel can secure the boarding tube. Comms Specialist Velia can send out a message about the evacuation after they gave taken position, while the rest of us gather up supplies as the outsider has suggested or be present to help control and guide the the crowd at the boarding tunnel."

Iorosinn of Vendarrdech

---

"Hey Lopez, I'm not sure what you're planning, but if it gets us out of this heat, I'm in." She calls out to him from the table.

Mark turned his head at the familiar voice, spotting the EDF patch before the face. He smirked faintly.

“Well shit, Iorosinn. Glad to see you made it out of that hellhole. Figured you were either fried by now or deep in a bug's guts,” He gave a short nod, the kind you only give to someone who’s stood behind the same bulkhead with incoming fire on the other side, “Would buy you a drink if we weren’t all counting time by the second.”

Vitiafa of Endiohon

---

Vitiafa was content to sit and listen while she drank the glass of chilled wine provided to her courtesy of a megacorp's expense report at the end of world. The heavy, full-bodied red was rich, jammy, and fruity. It wasn't to her tastes, but it did provide a momentary relief from the heat as she gathered her thoughts.

"This is just another evacuation we are planning," Vitiafa said as she finished the glass, "let us treat it like one as the gods have never blessed mere bluster."

"Send our two pilots and two," she held up two fingers for emphasis, "of us inclined with engineering to the ship, they shall try to get it running. The two EDF ground personel can secure the boarding tube. Comms Specialist Velia can send out a message about the evacuation after they gave taken position, while the rest of us gather up supplies as the outsider has suggested or be present to help control and guide the the crowd at the boarding tunnel."

He shifted his rifle across his chest, checking the charge count out of habit, then glanced toward the tall, sharp-featured woman who had spoken with a priestess’s clarity. Mark hadn’t caught her name, but her voice was soft and very certain.

“Alright,” he said, adjusting the strap on his shoulder, “I can secure the boarding tube, no problem there. But if you're bringing that ship online, you may need another set of hands once we’re inside.”

He glanced back at the group forming around the bar, then back to the priestess.

“But you’re right. No more sitting around waiting for a miracle.”

He looked toward the bay doors, toward the distant glow of the ship beyond.

“Time to get this shit on the road.”

"I'm good with locks!" Billie said, putting down her beer. "I'm an avionics technician, I repair a lot of different equipment if you give me time to read the tech manual."

But who locks a spaceship? She wonders in the back of her head. Especially a colony spaceship? It's not like one person could steal anything that big. You'd need at least seven qualified people to make a go at it. Did some bureaucrat think that spaceship theft was something that happened up here?

"Anyone know if it's got supplies loaded?" Billie asked, looking around. "We're not going anywhere without supplies."

Doctor Raphael Vitella entered the bar, breath smelling like whiskey. "The usual, if you have any left." Raphael Vitella said to the bartender as he sat down at a table. "Long day in Med-Bay? I don't blame ya for wantin' to get hammered. People gettin' into scraps, folks who are workin' on preparin' the colony ship for the long haul pushin' their equipment to the limit, and rumors of more ships arrivin' before it's ready to leave must be puttin' a lot of pressure on the CMO. By the way, we are out of your usual, so you will have to make do" A barmaid said to Doctor Raphael Vitella as she approached with a bottle of rum and a couple of shot glasses. Raphael Vitella filled both shot glasses and drank it. "Even if those ships arrive before the colony ship is ready to make its maiden voyage, we're gonna have to leave people behind. People who are no condition to be moved, people who will have to stay aboard the station to make sure the launch is successful, people who don't want to leave the only place they call home, those who see stayin' here as the safe bet, and the few fools who see everyone who doesn't want to throw away their lives on some quixotic quest to retake Eden Prime and its colonies as cowards. I wouldn't be surprised if you overheard some of them spout that spiel about how the military is regroupin' for a counterattack that will retake what was lost." Doctor Raphael Vitella said to the barmaid before picking up the bottle and gulping down the rum, the barmaid walking away from his table. "Idiots. I don't blame 'em for wantin' to have hope in time of crisis, but they've got to accept reality. Every soldier and pilot onboard this shipyard and any troops that might arrive before the colony ship's maiden voyage are all that is left of the Military." Doctor Vitella said to himself, too drunk to care if anybody overheard his conversation.

"...yeah," Earl yelled, talking over the rumble of the tram as it made its way down the lower deck, carrying its cargo of trained Burnts. "My brother told me, he's in the military. All those clock towers in every town and city? They're all bombs! For the day the Metacer find us!"
"Yeah?" Plant the driver snorted, rolling his eyes. "So what'll the bombs do?"
"They'll explode, take out everything!" Ear grinned from ear to ear. "Metacer, people, towns, nests, everything! Why did ya think I came up here for?! The view?!"

Plant shook his head as the thin man laughed evilly. He didn't see it when Earl turned towards the Burnt beside him, reaching out to grab the woman. Only she grabbed his hand.

"Hey...!" he whines, "that hurts...! Now let me go before I..."

Nine punched Earl's face, knocking him back on the plastic seat. Before he could shake it off, she kicked him off the tram, knocking his head into a column. He collapsed like a rag.

Nine turned to face forward, her face serene. Minutes later, they arrived at the rear loading hatch of the colony ship. Plant brought the tram to a stop, then turned.
"Earl! Get them off the tram while I... Earl?" Of the man, there was little sigh. He turned to stare at Nine, who had been sitting next Earl, but she just sat there, waiting quietly, like the rest. He looked back down the tracks, but of Earl there was no sign.

"Damn it, Earl!" he swore, shaking his fist as he climbed out of the driver's seat. "Of all the times...! I gotta get these people on board and you've gone off someplace!"

He walked towards the hatch, pulling out a flimsy that he held up to the laser scanner. The red beam swept across the bar code, then buzzed. With a loud clink, the massive doors began sliding up. Still grumbling, he walked down the metal ramp and began coaxing the Burnt custodians aboard.

Nine was the final custodian he seated in her chair, her box already loaded, lowering the padded safety bar to lock her in before glancing side to side. He walked over to the hatch, glancing about, then pressed the "close" button and listening to the hydraulics began closing the hatch.
"No way I'm stayin' on the station," Plant scowled, heading towards the front of the compartment and slipping past the doorway into the ship's corridors.

"Wh."
Nine frowned, ever so softly.
"Why..."

Leaning forward, she glanced down the row of booths, spotting a head leaning out, like hers. Another burnt. Simon? "Why did...?"

Nine cocked her head defiantly, then leaned back.

Reenneesuash (Ren to humans) daughter of veanamdarr

Ran was reaching to pull her armour back on, much as hot she would like the protection incase things got ugly, desperate people were dangerous and she was just as desperate to live as they were. People were far more dangerous than Lab animals, they could be observed and predicted.

Plants were safer and more dangerous. They had no real intelligence and usually were rather predictable, do not poke them, stay away from the colourful fruit or keep the gas scrubbers running when someone tried to import toxic spore bulbs from one of the world's jungles. Ren had taken more minor injuries from people in the last year or so than 10 years in the lab from her Xeno charges and Bio samples.

“So take anything not nailed down, or make it move, can do. Powerloader is a wrench…” Ren nodded, she was sure the ship had some supplies but anything, everything they could take would be great and helpful. If it was of any value she was taking it, from a generator, clothes, food or materials. They did not know what or how long they would be out in the void. They needed to plan for everything. The idea of wrenching things out with a power loader did make her smile.

“Send us a list when you get aboard and see what we can do, otherwise we grab anything useful.” She looked toward the woman who questioned the supply situation and they would work from there.

A rather realistic yet depressed man came up to the bar and downed multiple shots of a strong drink without pause. Usual? He was local, a regular? That or he had been stuck here for a bit. Drunk, whatever his skills where they maybe were a little beyond use, or would at rate they drank booze.

Clasps applied and locked she strapped everything together, it was a little worn and so, with the least minor damage risks, the heavy military rifles would go through it clean and out the other side.

“Ageeed?” Ren looked and began to stand, if they were going to get going, they might as well start now much as a nap and getting shit faced was tempting. Well stand, she still was probably one of the shortest of her group, bar that little alien in a scooter hovering about.

Doing somthing was... therapy.

Fihlyn Numosath

---

...

Walking over to Velia, Fihlyn’s excited smile was easily seen through her helmet.

“You are Communications Officer Velia, yes?” The Quessir’s voice sounded relieved, even as it was transmitted through her suit’s speakers. “It is a pleasure to meet you! I am Assistant Pilot Fihlyn. Flynn, if that’s easier.”

Fihlyn’s suit had been adorned with a patch from the CSF, with the colony ship’s number readily identifying her as part of the crew. It registered that the other woman wasn't wearing her uniform, but Fihlyn brushed her confusion aside. She looked around at the other figures that were standing and sitting around the officer. Her friends, perhaps? Other members of the crew, if she was lucky.

“I have been trying to contact the station for instructions, but I have not heard back. You are an officer of the ship, yes? Does this mean that you can give commands? We have space for more people, we should be trying to help those that we can.”

Fihlyn’s stomach growled again, louder this time. She glanced down at the CSF card sitting in front of Velia.

“Although, perhaps there is still time for a snack?”

Velia was struck by two emitions - elation at having a pilot, clashing with fear of how their situation might change now that people knew she was from the ship. So much for a quiet drink at the bar...

She smiled though. Overall this was a positive development even if there were about to be short-term complications, "Pleasure to meet you Fihlyn," she said, only slightly mangling the name.

"I can give commands," Velia lied. It was an easy lie. There was no officer on the ship and nobody was likely to dig into her files and figure out she was a freshly graduated communications officer with no real clue as to what she was doing. Someone, needed to take control of the situation, however, and prevent the ship from being overrun in a panic As long as people stayed calm and followed procedure they could probably get everyone off the station... but if people went into a panicked riot that was when accidents happened. The kind of accidents that ended up with a burst airlock and their ride out of here catapulting into the sun, "There are snacks on the ship. We are provisioned for a few months of travel... provided most of the people remain in cryo-sleep and aren't up and about, drinking all the milk."

She drained the rest of her whiskey setting the glass down on the counter before turning to the pilot, "bring the bottle with us," she said as she stood up, not wanting to waste the alcohol. She turned to address the rag-tag group of hangers on she and Fihlyn had acquired, keeping her tone calk and conversational, "Okay, I am going to need help to set up in preparation for launch, including, but definitely not restricted to crowd control."

"At this point, unless you have some loved one you can't not tell, let's keep what we're doing between ourselves. We don't want an angry mob trying to storm the ship."

@Terrans

---

Sarvenolos of the Third Fane of Tekumo

---

...

“Verminslayer! Is there something you smell?”

As it would turn out, Verminslayer had indeed found something… interesting.

Across the room was a Gendari, sitting on his mobility scooter, visibly fuming with annoyance. This wasn't just any Gendari, either, but the Gloriont himself. Not that Verminslayer understood what a Gloriont was. She didn't care about such titles. She just knew that he was small. Awfully small.

She prepared herself to pounce even as Sarve slithered towards her.

Divaldo was not unaware of the threat. Puffing himself up to his full, diminutive size, he reached behind his seat, producing a stick. It was about a foot long, so propably large for him... "What the yotz is that void-cursed creature doing here?" he demanded imperiously, but with an edge of panic in his voice, "Get back, you glop-faced vorrak, or I’ll ram this stick down your throat!" he declared, waving it threateningly at the cat.

The arrival of another member of EDF gave Ginny pause for a long moment, trying to clock the demeanor of the kiellar marine. When she started being buddy buddy with her fellow, the tension flowed from her shoulders. She gave the older elf a firm nod, those eyes sharp as she recognizes the executive approach. She wasn’t going to be able to lead these people properly, even if she could nudge them in the right direction. The words of the ‘officer’ betrayed herself, but the ranger didn’t speak on it.

Her duffelbag kept feeling heavier and heavier on her back in the growing heat, a weight that was not eased when she rose from the bar, first addressing Velia “We need get the word out to people here to get things together, nobody's getting left behind if we can help it, and the more stuff they can get together, the better." she says with a solemnity. This wasn't the first time she had to leave people behind. "And someone go check on the damned atmospherics and the station reactor if you can, before we all fry in here.” She says sharply, wiping the bottle across her forehead before placing it in a webbed holster on her utility belt. “Sync on the station open channel, give regular updates.”

“I’ll make my way to the ship and make sure things are ready to rock.” She’d nod to the engineer “Care to join me?” she offers, scooping up her bottle in her left hand and regarding the rest of the rapidly mobilizing assembly.

"Not only are the rumors about a Grendari bein' on this shipyard true, but it's the Gloriont. It's an honor to be in the same room as you. I've never seen a member of your species in the flesh and I didn't expect to meet the Overprelate, long may you reign, durin' my lifetime. Come down here to sample the wine? Honestly, I don't blame ya. To lose it all- home, family, planet- would make anyone feel like they need a drink. Doubly so if they've had a rough day." Doctor Raphael Vitella said to the Grendari in a polite tone before turning to head back to his quarters, his breath reeking of rum and whiskey. "What the Hell do you want? If you're a beggar or a mugger, you're shit out of luck. I drank away all the money I had on me." Doctor Vitella said to the strange man, only for the stranger to pull out a knife. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. One shout from any of us and any guards in earshot will drag your sorry ass to the security office. Pick a fight with anyone who can fight back and you will have to be patched up by my colleagues before you get tossed in a cell." Doctor Vitella said to the man with the knife in an attempt to defuse the situation. The strange man approached him, the Doctor's face turning to one of shock as he made eye contact. "Jellyhead." Raphael Vitella said as the strange man licked his blade before running at the doctor, his eyes filled with murderous intent. The Jellyhead stabbed Doctor Vitella twice and pulled out the knife, Raphael falling to the ground bleeding. "Here, Kitty Kitty. I've got a steel gift for you and your friend on the mobility scooter right in my hand." The Jellyhead said to the cat as he noticed it, walking towards the cat and the Grendari with his fingers tightly gripped around the handle of the knife, blood dripping from the blade as Doctor Raphael Vitella lay on the ground in pain.

"Not only are the rumors about a Grendari bein' on this shipyard true, but it's the Gloriont. It's an honor to be in the same room as you. I've never seen a member of your species in the flesh and I didn't expect to meet the Overprelate, long may you reign, durin' my lifetime. Come down here to sample the wine? Honestly, I don't blame ya. To lose it all- home, family, planet- would make anyone feel like they need a drink. Doubly so if they've had a rough day." Doctor Raphael Vitella said to the Grendari in a polite tone before turning to head back to his quarters, his breath reeking of rum and whiskey. "What the Hell do you want? If you're a beggar or a mugger, you're shit out of luck. I drank away all the money I had on me." Doctor Vitella said to the strange man, only for the stranger to pull out a knife. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. One shout from any of us and any guards in earshot will drag your sorry ass to the security office. Pick a fight with anyone who can fight back and you will have to be patched up by my colleagues before you get tossed in a cell." Doctor Vitella said to the man with the knife in an attempt to defuse the situation. The strange man approached him, the Doctor's face turning to one of shock as he made eye contact. "Jellyhead." Raphael Vitella said as the strange man licked his blade before running at the doctor, his eyes filled with murderous intent. The Jellyhead stabbed Doctor Vitella twice and pulled out the knife, Raphael falling to the ground bleeding. "Here, Kitty Kitty. I've got a steel gift for you and your friend on the mobility scooter right in my hand." The Jellyhead said to the cat as he noticed it, walking towards the cat and the Grendari with his fingers tightly gripped around the handle of the knife, blood dripping from the blade as Doctor Raphael Vitella lay on the ground in pain.

’Not even enough space to stretch,’ Sumris idly mulled over the lackluster state of the crew’s quarters, accompanied by some irritated chitters escaping the sleek mandibles grinding against their carapace and the shallow shifting of those nearly useless wings to prevent the root from getting too stiff from walking in all the cramped passageways. They didn’t like it, but with the mainworlds being overrun by those vile bug-things, getting crammed away in some hole of a ship was the only option.

A set of wing-like membranes that had been neatly folded against their head sprang outward as they passed the departure terminal, unfolding into the open air to catch and direct sound toward the narrow hole centered near their base—a rough equivalent for ears on the insectoid. Something about a “steel gift,” and the pained groaning of a man curled up on the rough tiles they called a floor. The more they looked ahead, the worse the situation became, prompting the moth-like creature to sprint into action when their eyes caught a glimpse of a bloodied knife approaching another pair of soon-to-be victims.

Heavy sounds of sclerite smacking against steel and claws clicking against stone were quickly trailed by the mass of aggravated bug slamming into the would-be killer. Their wings gave off a low hum against their back that melded with more fervent oscillations from their mandibles scraping along tooth-like indents just beneath. It was raw, instinctual body language, screaming with intent that would soon bear fangs.

Loud and wet sounds of something tearing hit the air. Some of its hands had dug against the fiend’s scalp, while others gripped wherever they could at his shirt to pry his neck wide, and a flood of red liquid began to pour out from a chunk that was now missing. Mandibles pivoted wide from the opening of their mouth—which lowered itself to take another large bite for good measure—before dropping the body to slump against the floor.

With the immediate threat taken care of, the moth turned its gaze upon the stabbed man. It grabbed hold of a leg with one of its chitinous hands and dragged him through the growing puddle to bring him closer, and used the other two to tear into his clothes. Once the wound had been exposed, a set recoiled up toward its bloodied mandibles. A thick rope of silk had started to spin from its jaws, and the creature wasted no time in packing Vitella’s abdomen with the makeshift hemostatic dressing. It was a sticky pink, blending the fresh polymer with fluids from the “Jellyhead,” crudely being forced past the split in the Doctor’s flesh in a poor attempt to stop the bleeding. Pressure slowly built against him from the inside, and it soon became a struggle to get more of the material in.

One last sharp nip of those jagged, teeth-like shapes in its exoskeleton snipped the thread of silk once this thing was satisfied. And with the situation looking stable, they helplessly flicked beads of red from their arms while shifting to their feet. They didn't wait around to hear from the small party, opting to rush off to find a place to clean up.

"I will thank whoever saved me when I get the chance." Doctor Ralph Vitella said as a guard approached the scene. "Mugging gone wrong, Doc?" The guard said to Doctor Vitella as he approached the wonder man. "Jellyhead ran up and stabbed me as I exited the bar. He would've killed the Gloriont and the cat if some stranger didn't show up and kill him. A moth-like alien, I think. On top of bein' drunk, I was goin' through shock at the moment." Ralph Vitella said to the guard as he carefully stood up, the man who helped him up calling in the corpse. "It's safe to assume that the stranger fixed you up. You will still require medical attention, but at least you ain't in any immediate danger of bleedin' out." The guard said to Doctor Vitella. "To be on the safe side, I'll wait for Medical personnel to arrive. This seal could break if I move around too much." Raphael told the guard as more guards showed up, two of them approaching the Grendari and the Morelian to get witness statements while the rest cordoned off the area.

Med-Bay Surgery
A few minutes later, Doctor Ralph Vitella was carried into the Med-Bay's surgery and placed on an operating table, a machine performing a Pre-Op Scan to determine the extent of his injuries. "Vitella? You were the one who got stabbed outside the bar?" Doctor Ferdinand asked Ralph Vitella as he approached him, dressed to perform surgery. "Yes. I was off the clock and drank up what little whiskey I had left. My plan was to get drunk, go back to my quarters, and get some shuteye." Doctor Vitella answered as Doctor Yeoman injected him with anesthetic. "Well, you won't be drinking alcohol for a few weeks. Scanner indicates that your liver was damaged when you were stabbed. Drunk or not, you would've bled to death before anyone could help you if your 'Good Samaritan' didn't create that makeshift hemostatic dressing. As for shuteye, the anesthesia will wear off in three hours." Doctor Ferdinand said to Raphael before the last human from Tigris went under.

---

Divaldo was not unaware of the threat. Puffing himself up to his full, diminutive size, he reached behind his seat, producing a stick. It was about a foot long, so propably large for him... "What the yotz is that void-cursed creature doing here?" he demanded imperiously, but with an edge of panic in his voice, "Get back, you glop-faced vorrak, or I’ll ram this stick down your throat!" he declared, waving it threateningly at the cat.

@Dyelli Beybi

Verminslayer didn't feel threatened by the stick at all. Instead, she perceived the stick as a toy, and the Gendari’s production of it… as an invitation to play. During all the time that she had spent as Sarvenolos’ master (which is just her entire life), the Morelian had used sticks, sticks with doodads, and feathers to keep her entertained. All the other people in her life, whose utter disappearance would be a point of confusion, did the same.

The cat stood up on her two hind legs, raising her paws to swat at the stick that the Gendari Gloriont wielded. Her attacks struck true, as befitting a creature with superior reflexes to almost any sentient being, shunting the stick from left to right, then from right to left. She then grabbed the stick and nibbled at it. If she was a larger cat, she would have been able to simply drag the Gloriont from his mobility scooter and down into the ground. She could have done all that before Sarvenolos even got to her.

The cat barely even realized what happened next. Or rather, she… didn't really comprehend it. She had caught and devoured her fair share of mice and other vermin. That strange two-legged creature with a shining fang in his paw had attacked another man… before being himself attacked by another creature. Ah, well. Creatures kill other creatures all the time.

Not her pet, though.

“Ve- what is this?!” Sarve slithered into the room and immediately had to fight the urge to throw up. To describe the state of affairs that proceeded after his cat decided to run off was… well, to say ‘a lot’ would be an understatement. First of all, his cat was bothering a Gendari. Not just any other Gendari, mind you. Judging by the jewelry, meticulously groomed moustache and beard, and the fact that he has a mobility scooter, this particular Gendari was the Gloriont. He had read about the self-proclaimed leader of the Gendari species, who had basically sold his own people to corporate interests and slavery-in-all-but-name to enrich himself.

Then, there was the man. A dead man, to be precise. He had… several vital parts missing.

Sarve lost the fight. He saved himself the indignity of throwing up on the floor itself, as his body was long and dextrous, allowing him to slither over to a nearby trash can to deposit the half-digested remains of his previous meal there.

The cat threw up, too.

---

“So. You're the Gloriont of the Gendari, right?” Sarve practically towered over the Gendari, even as he was seated on his mobility scooter. “Overprelate and Keeper of the Sacred Flame? I'll have to apologize for the scare that Verminslayer here must have caused you,” the Morelian spoke as the cat just… sat on his head. “You musn’t fear. She only catches mice and rats, and other tiny things. She recognises that you're a sapient.” The cat purred as he petted her with one of his prehensile tongues. “A small one, that is. Like a baby. She gets along well with babies. I imagine you'll get along well too, yes?”

Captain John Lockman

The group around him never responded to his question; so John turned back to "his" drink. A sip this time instead of his earlier attempts at draining the whiskey.

How had it come to this?

In some rundown space station bar, slugging whiskey straight from the bottle, still covered in the blood of......of his crew.

That last thought drew a shuddering breath.

' Amanda's words cutting out with a pained gasp. Dmitri's pleas before he toppled over. The ramp closing as the blasterfire and screeches of Metacer's drew closer.

She drained the rest of her whiskey setting the glass down on the counter before turning to the pilot, "bring the bottle with us," she said as she stood up, not wanting to waste the alcohol. She turned to address the rag-tag group of hangers on she and Fihlyn had acquired, keeping her tone calk and conversational, "Okay, I am going to need help to set up in preparation for launch, including, but definitely not restricted to crowd control."

"At this point, unless you have some loved one you can't not tell, let's keep what we're doing between ourselves. We don't want an angry mob trying to storm the ship."

Call it adrenaline dump. The pleasant buzz of alcohol. The lingering warmth of where she had touched him. Or maybe the general lack of care he had at this present time.

He nodded without question. Closing the bottle and tucking it into the vacuum proof survival pouch dangling from his left web gear. His helmet tucked into under his shoulder.

"Man...." He took a shuddering breath through his nerves and the alcohol. "Manual."

He held out his left wrist towards the dark haired woman; the flight crew TacPad chiming awake with a dull blue glow. Awaiting the information transfer.

******

Last minute cram sessions had been far and few between in John's upbringing. Relegated to a few times in flight school for the most part.

But even John could admit that glossing over a colony ship's six thousand page manual while walking through a colony station in the tow of an ensemble of characters was a first. His TacPad scrolling through diagrams and procedures as he followed vaguely in the cluster en-route to the ship.

Captain John Lockman
...

Last minute cram sessions had been far and few between in John's upbringing. Relegated to a few times in flight school for the most part.

But even John could admit that glossing over a colony ship's six thousand page manual while walking through a colony station in the tow of an ensemble of characters was a first. His TacPad scrolling through diagrams and procedures as he followed vaguely in the cluster en-route to the ship.

"I will when we're onboard," Velia assured the pilot, "For now, don't stress, we have a pilot with us."

It wasn't far to where the shuttered boarding tunnel was, which Velia opened with a key card she'd had in an inner pocket of her jacket, "Okay, everyone in," she motioned to the group as a whole to get moving quickly, "Don't dawdle."

She had no intention of leaving the gate open and getting a hostile crowd try to storm the ship, "We're pretty much ready to move," she called to the person she thought had said they were an engineer, "Stocked up for colonial planting and with supplies for a month for a crew. There's a number of people in cryo-sleep already, but I'd suggest we need to get anyone who isn't going to be of use running the ship into one of those to avoid eating all the supplies."

"Pilots, get us ready to fly and let me know. Then I will contact the Station Supervisor to let people know we are ready to board."

---

Sarvenolos of the Third Fane of Tekumo

---

...

“So. You're the Gloriont of the Gendari, right?” Sarve practically towered over the Gendari, even as he was seated on his mobility scooter. “Overprelate and Keeper of the Sacred Flame? I'll have to apologize for the scare that Verminslayer here must have caused you,” the Morelian spoke as the cat just… sat on his head. “You musn’t fear. She only catches mice and rats, and other tiny things. She recognises that you're a sapient.” The cat purred as he petted her with one of his prehensile tongues. “A small one, that is. Like a baby. She gets along well with babies. I imagine you'll get along well too, yes?”

The Gloriont blinked at Sarve, looking ill and a little pale before pointing at the corpse on the floor, "Do those eyes on your head work, or can you truly not see that? It’s them! Bugs! Frelling bugs! I saw it! This station is overrun! We need to get out of here before they chew us both into appropriately sized pieces for your little Hezmana spawn to eat!"

"Quick!" he declared, apparently assuming Sarve would do what he said, "We need to get onto that Colony ship!"

---

The Gloriont blinked at Sarve, looking ill and a little pale before pointing at the corpse on the floor, "Do those eyes on your head work, or can you truly not see that? It’s them! Bugs! Frelling bugs! I saw it! This station is overrun! We need to get out of here before they chew us both into appropriately sized pieces for your little Hezmana spawn to eat!"

"Quick!" he declared, apparently assuming Sarve would do what he said, "We need to get onto that Colony ship!”

“Oh, please don't remind me,” Sarve thought as the Gloriont looked like he was about to soil himself. He'd already thrown up, thank you very much, and the moth-like alien that had killed the would-be mugger and attempted murderer was already gone like seeds in the soil. Of course, he already had seen some violent films, but the real thing was, well, quite different. And real.

He'd decided to look away, pretending that the corpse behind them didn't exist. He spoke to the Gloriont like it was just another day in a peaceful space station simply to distract himself. It had pretty much worked, as he didn't feel too disgusted anymore.

The Gendari, however, was far more connected to reality than he was. He immediately started ranting about the bugs. The Metacer, right? They weren't aboard the station, weren't they? It's not like Metacer could pilot shuttles.

Well, unless some idiot brought the things aboard. Like an idiot.

“Bugs? Haha, you're just paranoid, there's no way they're up here! I know what a Metacer looks like, and they don't tend to leave… uh, survivors.” Sarve continued to act like there was no dead body, as if pretending that it wasn't there would make it go away. It's not like the man was a particularly friendly character. The moth-like alien, who was fleeing the scene just as Sarve slithered in, was of a species that Sarve had never seen before. Maybe his readings on the other integrated species of Eden and its colonies weren't complete? But if it isn't in the archives, then it doesn't exist, doesn't it? Ah well.

There's always something new.

“But,” Sarve continued, “A group of armed individuals were talking about having the necessary skills unlocking the docking locks in the bar. I was about to join their conversation when Verminslayer here suddenly ran off. Now, let us proceed to the Colony Ship in an orderly manner. We don't want to cause a crowd to gather, right?”

“I'm a pirate, Loot it seek, diggy diggy hole ” Ren sang rather badly was that a song, 3 songs, no song? No one knew, Ren had no voice for music and she had no idea how to carry a tune be it instrument or otherwise.

Throwing some snacks into her bag and a couple of bottles of over priced water all charged to the apocalypse Banking system. “Hot, lack of sleep for months. Hungry. Try me. See you in abit, just call if you want anything.” She said as she pulled her bags and made way out the drink taking a different path to the loading side and where deck plates turned reinforced to look to harder and large industrial gate ways. The soldiers headed to the gate locked down along with the crew, she and the others made way to find what they could, what was left? Who knew, maybe it would be useful, food or just clothes, random items and morale boosters.

“Area 4. Cargo storage. Restricted personal.” Ren saw the door and pushed it open with a solid shove and carried on regardless toward the sign marked…”Charging” knowing that was where you probably kept the loaders and stuff tossing remains of a chocolate wrapper into an bin.

“il find a loader. Il find a box…” Ren said later found dragging a box over to the front of the power loader so she short Kieller could get feet onto the rungs and climb into the control seat and just about reach the controls but she managed and gleefully firing up the motors with sound of servos on a battered orange machine, the grip claws spinning into place and testing motion as she ran through pre check with a well practiced routine.

An heavy foot fall of steel on steel Ren moved the large machine with an easy gait and made the machine balance on one foot with a display of control and smiled, she had not lost it.

“lead the way, wave me if you find anything good, or grab a loader yourself.” She was not sure if anyone else was trained to use one. Ren was in a better mood, least able to be doing something and doing something to survive.

The area coming up was larger than she thought, signage for storage, bays, warehousing, freight docks and more all with lines painted and markings for safe foot and machine traffic. “Oh. This might be.. larger than I thought.”

Ren said and wondered where to start.

Sarvenolos of the Third Fane of Tekumo

---

...

“Bugs? Haha, you're just paranoid, there's no way they're up here! I know what a Metacer looks like, and they don't tend to leave… uh, survivors.” Sarve continued to act like there was no dead body, as if pretending that it wasn't there would make it go away. It's not like the man was a particularly friendly character. The moth-like alien, who was fleeing the scene just as Sarve slithered in, was of a species that Sarve had never seen before. Maybe his readings on the other integrated species of Eden and its colonies weren't complete? But if it isn't in the archives, then it doesn't exist, doesn't it? Ah well.

There's always something new.

“But,” Sarve continued, “A group of armed individuals were talking about having the necessary skills unlocking the docking locks in the bar. I was about to join their conversation when Verminslayer here suddenly ran off. Now, let us proceed to the Colony Ship in an orderly manner. We don't want to cause a crowd to gather, right?”

"Paranoid?" Divaldo demanded, puffing up with outrage, "Paranoid? I saw the attack you frelling idiot! Look at the body! You don't see many run-of-the-mill murderers who eat people," he snapped, turning his scooter to trundle sedately down the corridor away from the corpse.

"Well?" he demanded of Sarve, "Are you going to tell the Supervisor that armed thugs are stealing our only way off the Station and leaving us to starve or do I need to do everything?"

Divaldo

<Snipped quote by El Gato Naranja>

"Paranoid?" Divaldo demanded, puffing up with outrage, "Paranoid? I saw the attack you frelling idiot! Look at the body! You don't see many run-of-the-mill murderers who eat people," he snapped, turning his scooter to trundle sedately down the corridor away from the corpse.

"Well?" he demanded of Sarve, "Are you going to tell the Supervisor that armed thugs are stealing our only way off the Station and leaving us to starve or do I need to do everything?"

---

"I was about to do that," Sarve slithered faster than Divaldo's mobility scooter with the cat still on his head. He pointedly looked away from the corpse, still hellbent on not looking at it ever again. "Besides, they did mention that the ship is just stuck. Nothing about leaving without the rest of us. I think. Ah, well. I'm not familiar with the station to know where the Supervisor's office is... but you, being as important as you are, probably do. Right? Oh, and... I just noticed..."

Sarve was a very quick slitherer, as all Morelians were, and was already past the Gendari's mobility scooter when he turned around. "Isn't the Sacred Flame a very important thing for Gendari? I mean yes, I read a lot, so I know that, but your its keeper and I see a distinct lack of flames in your possession... this is such a sad day for cultural continuity. Aaaaahh... we Morelians don't have something similar. Just our existence is enough.