Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Pundii
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Pundii That is, excuse me, a damn fine cup of coffee.

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Jackson Tanner



Location: Anisa's Bunk



Jackson didn't falter as he listened to Camilla snap, in fact, her words only seemed to rile him up more, he clenched his fist, narrowing his eyes at the woman as she went on. He was just about to snap back when he heard Anisa warn her, he caught the signal that it was perhaps just as much intended for him as it was for her, and so he stayed his tongue, Camilla however didn't seem interested in heeding such a warning as she went on. Her next words riled him up even more though - better than any of you - Jackson's knuckles were white now, the rage within him palpable as he stared down the mercenary.

Watching as she continued, Jackson reminded himself again and again to bite his tongue, he wasn't going to step out of line around Anisa, he offered her that respect and regardless of how much he wanted to scream back at Camilla, he wouldn't allow it to happen. Of course, Anisa dealt with it quickly as soon as Camilla was done. Watching the mercenary leave, he finally let his curled fist loosen a bit, knuckles slowly returning to their usual colour as he turned over to Anisa again, listening to her as he looked down. "It was my fault." He admitted plainly, he had let his anger with the man drive his tongue earlier, though he had done so not realizing the reaction it would draw from Camilla.





Gregory Quinn



Location: Captain's Office



Gregory sat in silence for a long while, eventually reaching down under his desk and into one of the small drawers. Opening it up, he reached in and pulled out a framed photograph. Sitting back in his chair, he looked over it, staring at the memory painfully. It was his and Camilla's engagement party, the two of them hand in hand and smiling happily, in a way Gregory had never seen himself in years. He sighed as he looked over it, gently setting it on his desk beside the file on her he'd been given. A hundred thoughts ran through his head, what to do, where to go, what to think or to feel.

His mind settled on one of the worse ideas. He had no idea if it would work, it was dangerous and all-in-all a terrible idea, but for once in Gregory's life, that didn't bother him, he just didn't care. Opening up his terminal, he sighed as he began to look through it, looking over the file he'd been given for reference as he made an attempt, one he believed would be impossible, to reach out to Camilla, to call the woman he loved, and hadn't laid eyes on for many years. Sitting back, he sighed as he waited, almost certain nothing would come of it.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Dragoknighte
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Carla Lobo


Location: Med Bay


Carla turned around and parked her butt in the seat previously occupied by the pilot of the ship. He'd barely been there for more than a few minutes, but even then, she couldn't help but feel a bit of residual body heat in the chair. It was kind of disgusting. Like putting on a sock somebody else was just wearing. Yes, nothing bad would come of it, but that didn't change the fact that it still felt gross and maybe slightly damp. Now properly situated, Carla rolled up the sleeve on her left arm, exposing the old burn scar that spanned across the length of her forearm.





Location: The Kitchen

Lionel, or more specifically, his arms were covered up to the elbow in a combination of salt, pepper, horse blood and probably a bit of human blood as well. Seasoning meat shouldn't be a difficult task, and yet nothing seemed to be going right. Oh those steaks got covered in salt all right, but in the process, he might have accidentally spilled half of the container, if not more. In between expletives, Lionel's mind had long since progressed from setting aside personal funds for real food to hiring a full-time chef for the vessel so he wouldn't have to fuck up in the kitchen anymore.

[color=9C6F6F]"Huh, did you go somewhere?" Lionel asked Gene, eyes focused on properly prepping the meat for cooking by pounding it vigorously. He had remembered a bit late that untenderized meat was tougher than his ex-wife's heart. So the first steak would probably be the worst of the bunch, thus handed off to Gideon. Hopefully the rest would turn out pretty good and shared among the rest of the crew.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Sigil
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Friedrich Knochengeiger


Location: I.A.V. Retribution, Out Of Service Lavatory


The insufferable fool with the ridiculous moustache kept insisting upon speaking to him. He was a fop, a dandy at best; a man with zero intrinsic value past what organs and tissues could be harvested from his remains, following a death he was already planning somewhere in the obvious reaches of his cold, logical brain. If he had to listen to one more overly worded sentence from that man, or the darker man that took over his Med Bay, he didn't know what nefarious, murderous plots he would put into action. Point of fact, he was already in the embryo stages of what he might do. All he needed was one good reason and proper opportunity.

Check that. All he needed was proper opportunity.

Finger didn't even bother trying to tell the cravat wearing bastard where to go, and what to do when he got there. In that moment, all he wanted to do was locate and utilize the facilities necessary for one who was bound by the mammalian law of nutritional absorption and digestion. That final step, to be specific. It seemed an unnecessarily messy affair; if his research somehow stumbled upon a way to completely do away with food intake, and thus the inevitable, resulting excretion of waste products thereof (or "Dump", for the layman), he would be a happy volunteer for his own process. It was a detestable, seemingly unnecessary process, much like the people with which he now worked - check that - with which he was trapped in a huge, metal tube, propelled through the vast nothingness of raw, black space. Detestable and unnecessary, all of them.

Well, perhaps not all of them. The Pilot was necessary, at least from his point of view. The good Doctor did not know how to operate such a vessel. But he was most assuredly detestable. Friedrich had given the insubordinate man a simple scenario: Defy the Captain's orders and refuse to launch the vessel until he was sure that personal and medical supplies were accounted for, upon threat of cannibalizing the crew's fluids and organs in case of a medical emergency. It seemed very logical, with no risk on his own part. But the spoiled mendicant refused to give in to his attempt to intimidate. That would not be tolerated in the future. Friedrich was the Ship's Doctor, and everyone would learn to fear and respect him, one way or another. Oh yes, they would indeed.

But first, the restraints of biology still had some control over him, giving him non-verbal commands of action that could not be put off for long. He was safe and alone inside of the first, closetlike room he came across that offered the necessary fixtures promising relief from his current situation. Yes, one good "Dump", to use the vernacular, and he would get to work making these peoples' lives miserable and short. Friedrich would have a huge stockpile of lungs and eyeballs before this trip was over. He could almost taste it.

With his disciplined behaviors, Dr. Knochengeiger kept to a strict diet of light poultry, cruciferous vegetables, and legume products. This made for an organized and succinct experience of bowel evacuation, taking no more than a couple of minutes. Naturally, he had no desire to be exposed to the sight nor odor of his own, personal leavings, and so made the decision to activate the flushing mechanism while still seated. It seemed a simple solution to an understandable and easily surmountable difficulty. Were this a public restroom (a thing he would scarcely ever be found within unless no other options were made available), it would even be called a "Courtesy Flush". Finger was nothing if not courteous. With confidence in his decision to do so, he remained seated, reached back behind him, and depressed the mechanism designed to empty the bowl upon which he rested.

And suddenly, he could not move.

Confusion hit first, until his disciplined mind ran through possibilities for this unexpected state of affairs. His posterior seemed stuck to the toilet. Logically, he considered vacuum as the culprit. Yes of course. Despite a lack of direct education in Engineering, he did have knowledge that was transferable in the form of Physical Sciences. It made sense. He was caught in a relatively minor vacuum, probably triggered by air displaced from the bowl into the holding tanks. If the bilge were vented following takeoff, there very well could be negative pressure built up that he triggered by opening the path between this room and the tanks. No problem. All he needed to do was equalize pressure, and all would sort itself out.

Casually, Friedrich reached back again. One hand braced against a rail to pull himself free, while the other rested atop the physical "flush" mechanism. A simultaneous Push and Pull tactic would be sufficient, he reasoned, to free him from his porcelain Bastille. His judgement was beyond reproach. Even from himself. Dr. Knochengeiger readied himself, and with a great heave, strained against the vacuum in an endeavor for freedom.

He failed.

The nanosecond that he depressed the flush mechanism a second time, the full conceptual awareness of his utter, incompetent misread of the situation struck him. The pressure did not equalize. It couldn't. All that resulted from this was an unprotected exposure of his nethers and hindparts to the zero pressure, monstrous cold of the endless reaches of the Black.

What he did not know was that this room was labeled as Out-Of-Service because the seal leading to the external valve attachment was cracked. The miniature airlock that prevented the complete depressurization of the bilge tank simply wasn't functioning; a state that would cause an unexpected whoosh of atmo from inside of the ship every time it flushed. Startling, but ordinarily not dangerous. Unless, of course, your ass formed a seal around the top of the bowl, preventing airflow. Nothing that couldn't be fixed by way of access panel from inside of the vessel; a simple weld or tradeout of part, hence the vessel being cleared for takeoff.

The sustained pressing of the flush apparatus served to hold the compromised seal open, making the only thing separating the breathable air of the Retribution from venting into space the softer tissues of the body of Finger himself. The battle between The Unyielding Forces of the Universe vs Dr. Friedrich "Finger" Knochengeiger was settled swiftly, and with very predictable victor.

Shock took hold of Friedrich as a sensation of cold, so intense and unknowable as to deserve its own circle of Hell, crept inside of him (actually inside of him), dislodging parts of his insides from each other with impersonal, steady violation commonly associated with a flood or an avalanche, only significantly more difficult to fend off. He grit his teeth and struggled to free himself with what remained of his ebbing strength, kept aloft purely by adrenaline and steely resolve. Even this worked to his disadvantage, as the abdominal strain he placed upon his innards served only to hasten the infernal vacuum's removal of his innards; were he to bear witness to the horrifying scene unfolding from the inside of the tank, it would have looked like time-lapse photography of intense, terminal rectal prolapse.

Or to put in plainer words: The exposure to intense negative pressure was disemboweling Finger, quickly and completely, through his ass.

The process was not done with the surgical precision with which a man of strict discipline like Dr. Knochengeiger might have preferred, quite the opposite. There was a horrid twisting and pulling, stopping and starting as the continuous pressure hung upon and overcame the varying densities of tissue. But overcome it did. The floppier exterior tissues of his nethers took catastrophic damage from the cold and pressure, his manhood wildly peeled away from his pelvis with a rapid smacking sound that resembled a grotesque, deflating balloon. When the softer inner walls of his abdominal cavity gave way and his diaphragm ripped open, any support his lungs had to remain inside of his body. They blew open like popped paper sandwich bags and fluttered back and forth, torn and deflated, quickly growing cold and lifeless.

Friedrich's body slumped back, now almost as hollow and broken as his soul. Somehow, incredibly, there remained just enough blood and adrenaline left in his skull to keep his brain active, but barely - Finger was fully aware that there was no saving him now. No force existing in the heavens nor solid ground would be able to repair him now; he had short, frothing seconds to make peace with whatever dear and shiny he held in esteem. Except, of course, that he had to wrestle with the fact that he held absolutely nothing in esteem, and had no belief in anything better than himself. This sudden psychological need to find a spiritual philosophy was cut off as his spinal column partially detached from the muscles of his back, and started exiting through his rectum, ripping the hole even wider with every tic of vertebrae acting as a blunt-toothed woodsaw.

As his spine exited his body, the last piece of human contact he would ever have came from the very man he was cursing not three minutes ago. His dying moment was supported by the nigh cheerful words of a Mr. Foy Coiffeur, asking, "Oh, I say... Doctor? Um, Doctor, is everything evacuating satisfactorily for you?" Anyone else, and he would have to suppress a giggle. But he had no time for that now. By the time his lumbars made it fully outside of his asshole, it was official. The light had left his eyes. Any remaining existential questions he might have had would forever lay unanswered.

The sudden lack of spinal support caused his corpse to accordion down upon itself. No longer applying forced pressure on the flush mechanism, the vacuum lessened considerably. The end of Friedrich's tailbone lodged in the outtake pipe, keeping the vacuum active (if only minimally). It was enough to begin yanking his teeth back into what remained of his throat, compressed and gruesome.

Perhaps the image wouldn't be as unsettling were it not for the fact that the crushed lump of flesh was still recognizable as Dr. Friedrich Knochengeiger. Also, it might be a little easier on whomever was unlucky enough to find the corpse if it wasn't making a ghastly, bubbly, whistling sound, courtesy of the tiny amount of air current still traveling through the remaining meat and fat that comprised Finger. The sound was reminiscent of someone screaming quietly while sucking in a lungful of air. Eyes, bloodspattered and wide, stared blankly at the ceiling above, and his mouth lay agape, giving the adventurous a view into the toilet below.

Thusly passed the ravenous, narcissistic sociopath known as Finger, Alliance Doctor and Medical Officer of the I.A.V. Retribution, in a manner as appalling as his presence. He may be remembered by this last act of involuntary honesty, as now his outside matched what lay within. Ironically, what used to physically lay within the man now adorned the interior walls of the bilge, suitably soaking in the collective defecation of strangers.



William Harper



Location: Med Bay -> Cargo Hold


Harper heard Moreau's suggestion that Foy may have asked the Ship's Doctor to assist him in carrying up cargo. It made him stop, mid-exit. Apparently, no one in the Med Bay knew where Fingers was. "That is unlikely, sir." he responded, coolly. "That is precisely the reason I am rushing off. I promised Mr. Coiffeur my assistance moving boxes up here from Cargo. If you don't mind my saying, that is very curious. When I'm done, I'll have him paged to Med Bay." Very curious. The Doctor didn't seem the type to hide. Even if he were, where could he go, really? This was a ship, in the middle of the Black. He would turn up eventually. If by some miracle he did not, Harper wouldn't lose much in the way of sleep over it. The man had left a highly disturbing first impression.

The concept of engaging the man who had just drawn his blood in personal conversation and playing cards invoked Harper's suspicion. Was this man merely offering a pleasantry, or did he have an interest in him, personally? Perhaps, like the other extremely well-dressed man on board, he picked up on the details of his appearance and mannerisms that marked him as a child of the Core, and considered him a person of sophistication, possibly means. It was also quite possible that the both of them just wanted to make friends, although truthfully, that one seemed the least credible.

He was thinking about it too much. It was his weakness. If he didn't overthink a situation, Harper was the kind of man who jumped in blindly, counting on his skills and no small amount of dumb luck to keep him alive. Now was a time for neither. Just go down to Cargo, help the dandy with the boxes, and page the Doctor. All he needed to worry about just then. Standard shipboard duties. He excused himself again, as politely as the situation allowed, and made his way down to the lower deck.



Foy Coiffeur

Location: Cargo Hold



"Ah, Lieutenant Harper!" began Foy in a delighted tone of voice. "It is splendid to see that you have joined me in this little endeavor. I was of two minds as to whether you would come to my aid. Not that I could fault you much had you decided against it; I did rather accost you the the corridor above us."

Foy motioned over to two large, unmarked, black crates, one of which was pulled partially into the walkway. "I do appreciate... Now, here are the boxes that my dear friend Dr. Moreau requires to be transported to Medical. They're not quite as formidable as they appear, so if you'd be as kind as to grab an end? There's a fine fellow. Very well, at a heave..."

The two of them seemed to be able to maneuver the looming, monolithic crates with minimal discomfort. Of course, had Harper known what was inside, he likely would have never consented to touch them, let alone move them around. And while Foy was, by no means, going to let on the contents, he did feel that a small warning was in order. Through strained voice, he managed to advise the recently assigned Flight Officer. "Ah, Lieutenant? If I may, you positively do not wish to drop nor jostle these boxes. Slow and steady, my good man. As our friend, the Noble Tortoise."

The unlikely pair began the uncertain journey to the Medical, giant scary box in hand.
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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Lady Amalthea
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@Morose - Gideon kept working until he could get things in order enough to at least fly the shuttle back to Vengeance. Sighing he doubted he would have it back up and fully running for a bit since he had to make sure the main ship was good to go before he finished here but at least getting it back and docked into place would be a start. Closing up the shuttle he plopped down in the drivers seat. "Well let's see if I can just get it back to the main ship without crashing it," he chuckled before starting the shuttle up and trying to take off. It didn't work. Rubbing his face he tried again, and again, till he finally smacked the console and it fired up. "See, I know what I'm doing," he laughed. "Just gotta show her some tough love," he added before taking off and heading back towards the Vengeance.

@Pundii - Anisa sighed as she looked over towards Jackson and picked up the file. She understood why he was angry and she couldn't blame him but sadly she also saw Camilla's point of view. The woman had saved their asses today and it wasn't the first time. She had proven herself time and time again and had it been anyone else the three of them would probably be friends but because of her past and who she had been engaged to things had never gone well. Looking over the files for a moment she shut them up and tossed them onto her desk before huffing her bangs out of her face. "I'm beginning to wonder if we are becoming the very thing we hate," she said staring off blankly towards the wall. "Jackson, there's got to be a better way. This isn't how she would want you living," she said quietly. It wasn't often that Anisa brought up Jackson's long deceased wife, it was basically one of those topics that were not brought up but Anisa was tired of seeing him so beaten down by everything.

@Pundii - The call rang in, and rang, and rang (or beeped, however you want to take it) - coming in through Camilla's private channel - something each of the crew had in their own quarters. The screen flickered for a moment before it lit up and Camilla appeared on the screen. She wasn't looking at it yet, her head tilted down as her blonde hair framed her profile. She was dressed in a worn tank top stained in blood as she was adjusting the bandage on her shoulder after climbing up and down ladders. Slowly she turned to greet whoever was calling her. She looked upset and furious as her face turned but as soon as her blue eyes came to the screen it melted away into shock and confusion. "Gregory..." she gasped out. The light that Jahosafat had been talking about earlier was just as he had said, gone from her eyes. "Is that really you?"

@Dragoknighte @Sigil - "Then yes, by all means. Go and help my illustrious comrade. I am sure he will be most appreciative of the assistance. The man is never one to turn down hard work but work is made quicker and more enjoyable when there is two to tango my good man!" he said in a rather happy voice as that broad smile crept back across his features. Letting Lt. Harper head out he turned his attention fully to Carla. "Well let us see if we can get you all taken care of before they bring the rest of my precious cargo to the medical bay," he said as he allowed her to take her time to get her shirt sleeve rolled up and he finished prepping the vials he would need. Turning back to her as she was ready he took her arm gently in his fingers and looked over the scar for a moment before he got to the actual process of drawing her blood. "Now that is a mighty bit of scaring young woman. Dare I ask what tale can be told from it?"

@Dragoknighte - "I swear to Christ, you are making this place look like we just slaughtered Able here on the prep table," Atticus said as Gene walked in. Sighing he wiped the blood from his hands and shoved a bowl on the floor and under a long stream of blood falling to the floor. The last thing he wanted right then was for the Captain to come back into the kitchen area and blow up because the place looked like they had re-enacted the shoot out from earlier right there where they were supposed to be eating dinner in a few hours. "So, where did you go?"
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Morose
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Dorothy Pender

Location: Shuttle headed to the Vengeance


Dorothy hardly batted an eye, as Gideon attempted to show off his prowess, and the shuttle hardly moved. New recruits in the Alliance army had behaved exactly like that, and the new doctors were always the worst. They assumed that they were gods, that nothing could touch them, and they cowered when confronted with their own mortality. She suspected on some occasions new medics were purposefully given patients beyond the reach of modern medicine, in order to break them.

"I'm quite impressed," Dorothy said, watching as Gideon rubbed his face. "I assume there's a technical reason to rub your face and hit the console?"

She smirked slightly, actually impressed as the shuttle rose. In medicine, hitting the patient didn't tend to fix problems, but perhaps engineering was just different that way. She made a mental note of tough love as a prescription to treat mechanical failures, certain to remind Gideon of that next time he had to fix something on the ship, that all he had to do was hit it. But Dorothy didn't forget that Gideon was practically a child still. It was heartwarming to see his carefree innocence, void of the scars of war and loss.

"Gideon...Do you like mei-mei?" Dorothy asked cautiously, looking forward, rather than at the boy.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by FantasyChic
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Genevieve Dupoit


Location: Dining Room



Gene had just sat down when she heard footsteps approach. She inclined her head to look and saw Atticus approach. Having heard him grateful, she gave him a kind smile, "Yes, I am fine, thank you for your concern. My shuttle has seen better days, of course, but I managed to land it just fine with minimal damage, apart from some cuts and bruises on my own body. Gideon should be coming back with it soon."

She then heard more footsteps and Lionel came behind the preacher. She gave the other man a smile as she rested her head on her hand, "Yes, I went to go meet a client on the nearby planet when things went wrong. I didn't have anything else to do on the ship since matters were resolved, and I am losing some future appointments due to our situation, so I figured, why not? But now, I am back with nothing to do. What are you two up to?"
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by BlueSky44
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Daphne Pender


Location: Bridge



Daphne knew better than to bother the Captain, or for that matter Camilla. The woman practically stormed down the hallway. She thought better than to ask, and when she reached the bridge, she sat down in her usual seat at the console and let out a deep breath. There was no denying the fact that she was tired and had been practically running around the ship helping out and trying to get the ship off the ground again. She had been off the ship twice in only a few hours, and she felt like she needed to sleep. Daphne never really liked sleeping, and felt like it was only a necessary evil that she had to do.

She looked over at the controls, and started to doze slightly while sitting there. After a minute, she jolted back up right, and pushed her weariness off to the side. Daphne laughed to herself, and felt her exhaustion leave and become more like energy. She knew that she would totally crash eventually, but if the Captain could still be going, so could she. Looking at the controls once more, she spoke softly to herself, "Don't worry old girl, you'll be back in the air in no time once Gideon gets back."
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Dragoknighte
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Carla Lobo


Location: Med Bay


"It's not a very interesting tale, but I suppose it won't hurt to tell the tale." Carla said in response to Jahosafat's question. "It's actually the leftovers from a childhood injury, I believe I was around 11 years old at the time. Occasionally, the Agency would train us with survival trips. They would dump us off in the wilderness of an outer rim world, or at least a planet that hasn't been completely civilized like a Core planet. We'd never know where we were going, what would be in store for us, or even if all of us would be in the same location, but no matter the situation, we still had to survive for however long they decided to have us fend for ourselves. I believe the exercise was meant to make us more adaptable and less liable to dismiss certain options that others might find beneath them." Carla found her other hand slowly drift towards her mouth in between sentences, the urge to bite down on a nail that had been growing a smidge too long for Agency standards, shortening it down to a less problematic length. Summoning her force of will, Carla made herself place her arm back onto the chair's arm rest and continue with the story.

"It was on one of these ventures that I got this scar. I was in a jungle terrain. Dense underbrush everywhere, quite humid, but surprisingly cool. I had heard that they were supposed to be really hot, but I suppose that could possibly have been an oddity of the planet. On that same trip I ended up getting rashes all over my legs from these fungi that were bright yellow and about 40 centimeters tall. They released these spores that stuck to the bare skin and caused an allergic reaction."

"Anyways, I had set up a small camp for myself with a fire. It was difficult to get set up in such a wet situation, but the uses outweighed the cost. I was walking towards it to start cooking up some small creature I'd hunted earlier. It was a bird with bright plumage and a long, pointed bill. I remember being really excited to get something substantial to eat, and I guess in my excitement, I distracted myself from my surroundings. I ended up tripping on an exposed root and fell face-first into the ground, my arm ended up falling directly into the fire. The burn was rather excruciating. It swelled up to nearly a full centimeter off of my arm with puss, and the scarring has stuck with me to this day. I guess if I really wanted to attach a morale, I could say it reminds me not to get so involved with minor victories that I get blinded to obstacles around me."






Location: The Kitchen

"We're cookin' horse," Lionel exclaimed rather bluntly, wiping his hands on a nearby dishcloth. The only progress this seemed to accomplish was staining the cloth without removing much fluid from his hands. "The preacher and I have the actual culinary process handled between the two of us, but if you have a hankering for being handy to us in this endeavor to fix up some actual food, you would have my appreciation Madam. Perhaps you could help clean up all these bodily fluids so the captain doesn't end up bustin' a valve when she comes into the kitchen and sees a sea of sanguine if you are so inclined."
Hidden 3 yrs ago 3 yrs ago Post by Pundii
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Pundii That is, excuse me, a damn fine cup of coffee.

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Jackson Tanner



Location: Anisa's Bunk



There were few people who could even mention Jackson's deceased wife and get through the act unscathed. The last time one of the crew had done so, Jackson had hit him so hard he'd almost broken his jaw. Gideon was still apologizing for it from time to time, so as to avoid another hit quite like that one. Anisa was perhaps the only person really Jackson would listen to when she was brought up, it was more than a touchy subject, it was a painful one, one Jackson never wanted to speak of, one he wanted to keep to himself, down in his heart where it could be his and his alone.

Sighing, Jackson took a seat, reaching up to idly scratch at his stubble as he stared off into nothing, listening to her words and letting them flow through his thoughts. "She would've wanted us to win the war." He commented idly, more to himself than anything as he turned his gaze over to Anisa, sighing quietly. Jackson had, more or less been a mess since the death of his wife, while he'd made an effort, he'd never been able to quite get over the event, and he certainly hadn't been able to properly put the thoughts of his wife to rest.





Gregory Quinn



Location: Captain's Office



Gregory sat in silence, staring idly at the screen, he didn't know what to expect, in reality he didn't expect anything but the beeping of the console as it tried to call Camilla's private channel. The thoughts continued to run through his brain, this was a terrible idea after all, it was immensely unorthodox and against protocol for him to be doing this, to be calling not only the woman who was technically a target of his current mission, but who realistically, regardless of what prior relations they had, should have been his enemy. Reaching up, he moved to halt the call but seconds before he could it opened, presenting the image of her.

In mere seconds, the years of pain, of anger, the stoic and hardened Alliance officer on Gregory's face melted away, his mouth opened a little, and he stared wide-eyed, as if he was seeing her for the first time all over again. It had been too long since he had seen her, really her, rather than a photo, and it placed him into a stunned silence, even as her gaze met his own and she spoke. For a few moments longer, he remained in silence, trying to bring up enough of a backbone to say something. "C...Camilla, I..." He stammered, having not even considered to think about what he could say, eyes focused on her own, on that light, gone from it as he sat there, a feeling of guilt running through him.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Sigil
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Harper & Foy



&


Location: Cargo Hold -> Med Bay


"Oh I say, Harper old boy..." began Foy, attempting in his own, slightly narcissistic manner to engage the more straightlaced man in conversation, even while straining to move a box full of incapacitated Reaver to Medical, just up the ramp and down the hall, ...you don't seem the particular variant of Core denizen that spent their formatives growing accustomed to the more laborious pursuits of lifting and toting, if I may make the observation. Yet here you are, crisp uniform and neatly combed locks, conveying supplies unknown with a total stranger. You didn't even have the psychological wherewithal to cite duties, thereby excusing yourself from my endeavors. You could have, my Osirian acquaintance, but chose not to. It is demonstrative of character. Or detestably submissive behavior."

Harper glanced back at the better groomed man, unsure as to what he was trying to put across. This was supposed to be a simple task, moving a couple of crates from Point A to Point B, while he had some free time (obstinately to "acquaint himself with the ship"). He opened his mouth to say something, but being as he was on the front end of this scary, black box, Foy could not see this. It would have been a coin toss as to whether he would have spoken, even if he did notice. As it stood, he continued.

But I do not detect that, were the Gendarmes to remove you to termed incarceration, you would do much in the way of, ah... catching, if you decipher my metaphor."

At mention of the word "incarceration", Harper's head snapped back again, eyes narrowing into something predatory. If this discussion was about to get ugly, he was fairly confident that he could give the foppish man a faceful of melee wrench and jam him in an airlock before anyone noticed. It would be a simple matter, hacking the ship's system and retroactively altering any security footage that may have made it back to Alliance datastorage. No one would know. And the next time they compressed and incinerated their garbage, that would be the end of Mr. Coiffeur and his very fine tie. Disappeared without a trace off of an Alliance Patrol Boat. Truly a mystery for the ages.

Harper stopped in the middle of the ramp, turning to one side a best he could without dropping the big, black box, and let his eyes rest fully on Foy. "What exactly do you mean, sir?" he inquired in a low, quiet voice.

Foy flashed a quick smile, his eyes seemingly twinkling. Something had hit a nerve. Maybe this Harper fellow had served some time. It was amazing what one could pick up about a man from casual reactions. "Nothing to inspire such a grim face, Lieutenant Harper, I assure. I am merely inferring that you seem to be quite the assertive gentleman, and do not find that the banalities of manual labor are beneath you. Quite the opposite, you hurl youself unerringly toward it. Curious."

"Idle hands, Mr. Coiffeur." returned Harper. This man spoke too much, seeming to probe for information without actually asking anything important, if anything at all. He turned, and continued the walk up the ramp, cargo in tow. "I've had an eventful life so far. It taught me to never be afraid to get your hands dirty. I'm sure you can relate."

Foy smiled again. So the Pilot knew enough about this game to make insinuations of his own, as well as make blanket statements that might provoke information bearing conversation. "There we are, just around here and a bit aft, good sir. Excellent."

Overall, it took only a few short minutes to get the first of two crates up to Medical. The two unlikely work partners carried the large black box directly inside, and looked to Dr. Moreau. It was, as usual, Foy who spoke up first. "If I might inquire, my debonair compatriot, would it vex you terribly for us to set this down at present locale, or did you have someplace specific mapped out for this intimidating bit of cargo?"
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@Morose - "Of course there is, it is all very technical, everything I do," Gideon laughs as he flies them back towards the Vengeance. Giving the console a light pat. "Gotta let her know she's loved to keep her in the air but sometimes you have to show her who is boss to get her off her ass to work," he added, still laughing as they headed back towards the ship. At her question he cocked a brow slightly. "Your sister?" he asked a bit confused if Dorothy was referring to her little sister or someone else. He shrugged slightly. "She's okay, good pilot and fun to be around at times," he said as they came back to the Vengeance and he docked the shuttle back in its proper place with the Vengeance. Standing up he rubbed the back of his neck lightly. "But if you mean something more, well.... I kinda of prefer my women a bit more mature," he said in a nervous laugh before a slight pink came to his cheeks. Grabbing his things he darted out of the shuttle and through the ship. Heading up towards the Dining room. "I'll fix your shuttle the rest of the way once Vengeance is taken care of," he said in passing to Gene before darting up to the bridge.

@BlueSky44 - Daphne can hear what is going on in the dining room with Atticus, Gene, and Lionel clearly. What happens in Camilla's room she can't due to the door being shut and the console still needs repairs some she isn't even getting a notice that a call is being taken on a private channel. A bit of what is going on between Jackson and Anisa can be heard but it is muddled since Anisa isn't screaming her head off for once. After a bit Gideon does come waltzing in and grins over to her. "Ready to get your baby back in the air?" he asks before motioning for her to move so he can get to work.



Anisa Crowe

Location: Her Room (1)


"Yeah, she would have but that is not what I am talking about Lieutenant," the Captain stated flatly. It was rare she ever called him by the rank he held during the war. She knew he hated it and it grated on his nerves but she was making a point. "It was a war. Each side wanted to win and each fallen soldier wants their side to come out the victor so they can feel their deaths were not in vain. That's what we wanted. To have a victory so we could give meaning to everything we lost. The greater good but that isn't the case and we have to live with that."

She knew she was pushing it but she had watched Jackson as Camilla spoke, she knew he had kept from laying into her the way he wanted because she had been standing there. If she hadn't she doubted either Camilla or Jackson would have walked out of the room without being hauled away on a stretcher. "But I am talking about what she would have wanted for you. She wouldn't want you being like this. Years later, still mourning her, still unhappy, still blaming yourself. It wasn't your fault Jackie!" Jackie, a name she had called Jackson since long before there was even talk of a war. Sighing she stood up and hobbled over to him, the mask of the Captain faded away. The hard coolness she wore in front of her crew was gone. Right then it was just Ani, the girl that Jackson had grown up with. The same look etched on her face that was there anytime either of them got hurt dealing with the cattle or horses back on what had used to be their home.

"She's want you to have moved on. To be happy Jackie. To find something to smile about. She'd want that for you because she loved you. That's all anyone that loves someone wants. For the person they love to be happy," she said quietly as she reached out and squeezed his bicep lightly before letting go. Sighing she hobbled past him and headed over to the ladder which lead out of her room and up to the rest of the ship. Resting her hand on one of the rungs of the ladder she stopped and glanced over her shoulder towards him. Looking at him slowly before she spoke again. "That's all I want for you Jackie."



Atticus Pearson

Location: Dining Room


"Well thank God above that you weren't hurt and that Dorothy didn't have to bring you back here and rush you to the med bay. Couldn't have you scarred, would be messing with the Lords fine work," he jested, not really being clear if he was speaking sarcastically about what she did for a living or just about the lord creating her as pretty as she was. It could be taken either way but knowing Atticus it was a little bit of both, though he was one of the few people on the ship that didn't have any problem with what Gene did. She knew what she wanted and wasn't prideful about it, so that was good in his book. Plus, he wasn't one to cast a stone when he had a log in his eye.

"We're attempting and mostly failing at being great chefs but sadly they didn't teach me horse roasting to prepare for the pulpit," he chuckled. Glancing over at Lionel he nodded. "God yes, if you have any skill in the kitchen, please help us before we ruin it," he said stepping back. Either way, I will start cleaning up the mess, you take over with Lionel, you can't do any worse than I am," he said before turning and getting started on the cleaning process as Gideon came by and basically ran through the place even as he told Gene that he would get her shuttle fully fixed up later.



Camilla Powell

Location: Her Room (5)


Camilla just sat there, looking at the screen as if her world had just been turned upside down and in a sense it had. She had never expected that she would see him again, much less hear his voice. Every since she had left distance had been kept. It had to be for so many reasons. She was working for people he hunted, she was wanted by the Alliance for Treason. Yet there he was right before her. The woman didn't know if she should be terrified that he knew how to contact her which meant he might know just how to find her and the crew, if she should be relived to see that he was still living, or angry that he hadn't tried to reach out to her sooner. Everything was spinning through her as she just sat there staring at him and waiting for him to say something, anything at this point.

When he finally did speak he was barely able to say her name. Why was he contacting her now? Was he trying to reach out to her? Or was there more to it. She doubted it was to try to trick her, that wasn't his game and the look in his eyes told her there was more going on she just didn't know what that could be. There were a million reasons he was contacting her an each one seemed more ludicrous than the one before it. One that struck her and hit her with a wave of fear that washed over her features was that she had just opened the box that Anisa had found, an Alliance box... Was there a beacon on it? She hadn't noticed one but time had passed since the Battle of Serenity. Maybe there was a tech that she wasn't familiar with.

Swallowing slightly, she couldn't help but reach out, her fingers touching the screen and running over his features before she pulled herself back out of the daze that had over come her. Taking a deep breath she shook it off. Getting up quickly she doubled check to make sure her door was closed and secured. The last thing she needed was Jackson coming in right then. At least with it locked she would hear it and it would give her time to shut down the communication before anyone noticed; hopefully. Sitting back down she straightened her back and took on the same demeanor she had when she worked for the Alliance. "Why are you contacting me Quinn?"



Jahosafat Moreau

Location: Med Bay


Jahosafat stood there listening to Carla's story, making sure to place close attention to what she was saying even as he worked quickly to draw the blood vials he needed. Bandaging up the small wound caused by the needle before stepping off, still listening mind you, as he labeled the blood vials and placed them with the rest of the samples he had taken. Turning back to her he crossed his arms over his chest as he continued to listen, letting her finish the tale uninterrupted before speaking.

"Well I dare say that is not the ending that I had envisioned in my mind good woman. It started out so harrowing that I feared it was some remains of a torturous event placed on you by some diabolical soul. I am truly happy to hear that was not the case though I will admit that any burn that could leave a scar such as that must have been rather painful in and of itself, no matter the means in which it was acquired. Though, other than a physical scar you seem no worse for the ware have had learned a valuable lesson in the process. Let us hope that not everything you have learned over the years came at such a cost though," he said before turning his attention to Harper and Foy as they came in toting what he had requested.

"Ah my good man, place it over there on the floor if you two would be ever so kind. Thank you greatly, it will make my work much more efficient to be able to conduct everything within the walls of the medical bay, safer as well. I..." he started before he was cut off by the sound of beeping coming from Harpers communicator as a message for him came in. "Air pressure imbalance in Lavatory 3A."
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Dorothy Pender

Location: Shuttle ---> the Med Bay


Dorothy snorted slightly at Gideon's explanation. It reminded her of some old texts on treating mental illness--practices that disgusted Dorothy. At the end of the day, they were yi dwei da buen chuo roh. During her time working at the military hospital, after the war, she had seen some practitioners attempt to use them to treat the soldiers. But of course, this was Gideon. This wasn't the Alliance military hospital. She closed her eyes for a moment, rolling her shoulders back, as she had once again stiffened them.

"Yes, my sister," Dorothy replied, giving Gideon a bit of a confused look. "Does someone else on the crew have a sister on board that I haven't heard of? I suppose Jackson could be Anisa's sister...but I always assumed he was a he." She chuckled slightly, but her laugh stopped at Gideon's next comment. On one hand, she was glad to finally know that he wasn't chasing after her sister.

But crushing on the Captain? Dorothy wasn't always the most observant when it came to affairs of the heart, and she rolled her eyes slightly. That boy was going to get himself killed. It made sense, however. Perhaps that was why Gideon got Anisa to scream at him all of the time. The entire day had been insane. Collecting her thoughts, Dorothy excited the shuttle and made her way back to her home-base, so to speak. There was a slight mess still to be cleaned up, and Dorothy busied herself, ignoring the curious lack of screaming from Anisa. She loved her Captain, but even Dorothy wouldn't pretend that Anisa wouldn't scream if something pissed her off.

Josephine's stunt, Dorothy figured, was enough to get Anisa's voice loud and shrill.
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Genevieve Dupoit


Location: Dining Room -> Kitchen



Genevieve would be lying if she said she was interested in helping the two men clean up their mess, but beggars could not be choosers. Plus, she liked both of them well enough. And it gave her something to do, perhaps it would paint her in a better light to the Captain if she helped clean it up. She imagined she would be hearing from Anisa anytime soon. So she nodded and stood up, motioning for Lionel to follow her, "Well, let's get to it then."

As soon as she set foot in the kitchen, she saw what she had to work with. She let out a "Go shi" before she could stop herself. She sighed and grabbed some cleaning supplies, "Well, let's get started."
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Location: The Kitchen

Lionel shot a look over at Atticus for his remarks about them being in dire need for help. Of course he was completely right about that, but you weren't supposed to just come out and say it. You had to soften it up, make them want to help you out without putting yourself in the vulnerable position of the other party knowing you needed help. That's how you end up getting ripped off. Whatever, Gene was going to help out anyways, so what did it matter in this case. That said, Lionel made a mental note in his head to not attempt negotiations with the preacher any time soon. And Gene went for the cleaning supplies, meaning that he would have to take care of the remainder of the cooking himself. The old man took in a deep breath and steeled himself for war. Time to get it over with already. Worst comes to worst, at least there'll still be tons more meat for later meals.

Carla Lobo


Location: Med Bay


Carla wasn't really surprised at Jahosafat's reaction to the story, after all if you take away all the fanciful dressings of "survival mission on a wild jungle planet forced upon children by a shadow mercenary organization" the story simply boiled down to "I tripped and fell in a bad place at a bad time." The set up for the story made it out like it would be more than it was. The blood drawn, Carla rolled her sleeve back, hiding the burn scar in question before she stood up, slightly wobbly from the blood loss. She wasn't really sure what to do next, but her mission was to provide security for the doctor, so she supposed staying where she was would probably be the best choice for the moment.
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Daphne Pender


Location: Bridge



The commotion behind her in the dining room makes her glance back, and wonder what was going on. Normally she didn't take much notice in what most of the crew did aside from whether or not they were responsible for causing the ship to crash. She still wasn't too happy about Genevieve crashing her shuttle, but there wasn't much she could do about it now. After a while, she hears someone come in and sees Gideon coming into the room smiling. She smiled at him and nodded when she heard his question. Daphne got up from her chair and stepped back to allow Gideon to work.

She glances about the room one last time, and walks out again. She felt better about the whole day now that she had had some time to herself. Daphne headed away from the bridge, and walked past the group in the dining room. Daphne gave the group a smile as she walked past and headed on her way. She felt like she should see Dorothy, and knowing her sister she would probably be in the Med Bay, so she headed out that way. Daphne wanted to talk to some one at least partially sane on board, and at the moment it seemed to her that Dorothy might be the only one.
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William Harper



Location: Med Bay -> Out-Of-Service Lavatory


Harper got the message, loud and clear. Both the actual words of it and the deeper meaning behind them. He was a First Lieutenant and Flight Officer, with very little in the way of technical expertise in his dossier (regardless of his actual knowledge, which was admittedly extensive). The actual words indicated that the Captain (or proxy thereof) wanted him to assess and possibly do something about an atmospheric imbalance originating from a bathroom. However, the meaning behind this was clear: Harper as on bitch detail, probably along with everyone else.

It was insulting, really. Mostly because the I.A.V. Retribution had someone on board that would have been better suited to engineering tasks. At least on paper. Oddly enough, the ship's Engineer. On a boat with a larger crew, he or she would have some manner of flunkie or new guy to handle a non-perforating pressure imbalance, along with mopping floors and/or seeing to the waste disposal units. Even a smaller vessel like this, if fully staffed, would have someone from Engineering to take a look at a difficulty that obviously had monstrously little to do with flight plans, astrogation, or piloting the boat.

Either the Engineer was really, really busy and desperate for anyone else to handle the issue with the atmo, or someone higher in rank than himself was proving a point. Not like it mattered precisely why. He was Alliance Military, and someone gave him an order. It was reputably difficult to desert one's assignment while hurtling through space. The thought did cross Harper's mind.

With a sigh, he looked to Foy and gave him the news. "Mr. Coiffeur, I've been ordered away. I don't know how long I will be, so you may need to find someone to help you with that last box. Excuse me."

William gave a nod in the direction of Jahosafat, straightened his uniform, and exited Medical. He knew where the lavatories were, and had a feeling he wouldn't miss which one they were talking about. Up the ladder, just aft of him, and back up toward the front, along the corridor. It really was a well-planned ship, designed so that the crew could make efficient runs from one section to the other at moment's notice. As long as you knew which floor your destination was on, it was easy to figure out. As he neared the crew's quarters, his suspicions were confirmed.

3A, red banner plastered across the door, calmly reading in block letters, "OUT OF SERVICE". Imagine that. They had taken off without making some manner of minor repair which probably tripped an indicator, now that they were up in the Black. Reasons for an atmospheric imbalance did occur to Harper; all of the crap had to go somewhere that was easily removable from the exterior of the vessel. There were tons of reasons how an imbalance could happen. Regardless of what his file said (or didn't say), he had a vastly superior education as it came to mechanical and technological engineering, not to mention a proven knack for computers. He could puzzle this out without breaking a mental sweat. Most likely, it was a redundancy failure. Because it was only in the one stall, that narrowed the possibilities further.

Basically, it meant that the difficulty was highly localized, not leading to the outside. If it were, they wouldn't have quietly sounded an "Atmo Imbalance", it would have been a highly noisy klaxon call of "Hull Breach". Pulling air into in reclamation tanks would be the most likely culprit. Steadying a solid handhold on the wall next to the door, even going to far as to brace a knee against it as well, Harper depressed the button to open the door.

It refused to budge. Not surprisingly, if one thought about it. Locked from the inside; occupied. This lent a whole new color to the situation. He touched his comm unit, addressing the Bridge. "Harper, William. Officer override, lock on 3A." A quiet beeping sound indicated the desired result. He braced and tried again.

A harsh intake of air filled the hallway as the door cracked open. Liam's muscles strained against it as he watched the scene inside, revealed by the seeming slowness of the door's opening. A hollow lump of flesh squatted atop the toilet, compressed and rubbery but still recognizably human. Its mouth was still agape, screaming loud and long as the air rushed through the only avenue it could - through the thing's mouth and into the partially depressurized bilge. Harper looked upon the sheer grotesquery of the misshapen blob of hollow, unsupported flesh, the whistling of air through it reduced to more of a pitiful whimper, an anticlimactic whine of fleshy machinery powering down as the air pressure stabilized.

"Lieutenant Harper to Bridge. I found the Doctor. I'm going to need a Yeoman with a strong stomach and someone from Medical. No rush."



Foy Coiffeur

Location: Medical


Foy looked about the Medical Bay. Gentlemanly courtesy demended that he finish the job to which he had been set by his good friend, Jahosafat. There were only two people left, aside from himself; one was the very friend that requested that the task be done. Asking him to assist would be patently rude. Not that Foy had any difficulty being rude, mind you. It was a sort of sarcastic catharsis for him, acting in a manner that was polite and proper, yet rarely friendly. Particularly as it involved one of more of the unwashed masses. They had their place, granted, taking care of the grunt work and agricultural needs that were required for society to function; every proud anthill needed workers to keep things moving along. There was even a sense of quiet pride in it.

But Foy's pride was anything but quiet. No, his pride was a blazing zeppelin, dressed in rhinestones and screaming poetry to the awestruck and fearful masses running and screaming for their lives. Nonetheless, a little labor was needed to fulfill the obligation of his word, and a little humbling of self was required to accomplish even that. Foy looked to the only other person in the room.

"Why, Miss Lobo! Lovely as ever, I see. Still sinewy of arm, I trust?" he smiled underneath his preened moustache, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. One such as Carla, a woman having professional familiarity with the man (and not in his capacity as a barber), would know that this sort of flattery was an extremely, laughably thin example of buttering up, soley for the purpose of putting in a request a second afterwards. It likely came as no surprise when he continued, "If you could avail me the use of your physicality, madame, I would be obliged. I have one such container remaining in Cargo, and would greatly appreciate your assistance."
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Jackson Tanner



Location: Anisa's Bunk



Hearing what Anisa was saying wasn't easy, not just because it was a touchy subject, but because he knew it was all right. A very large part of Jackson knew full-well how he shouldn't have been so hard on himself, how he shouldn't have still been trying to fight a war which had ended, even though it had now started all over again. Things weren't easy for him, they never had been since his wife had died, but he only made things worse, he couldn't kick the belief that just somehow, her death had been his fault, that he could have prevented it when he knew deep down there was no chance. "I should've been there..." He muttered quietly, more to himself as she brought it up again, looking down as he tried to settle it with himself.

When he looked back up, he saw Ani in front of him, his eyes locking with hers as he saw the look in her eye, the worry, the hurt, it stung him then far worse than anything else could've. He frowned deeply, frozen there, watching her as he listened to her. As she moved past him, he looked over at her, hearing what she was saying but finding himself paralyzed, unable to say anything however badly he may have wanted to, unable to think with so many different thoughts running through his mind, too much for him to comprehend. Eventually all he could do was sigh, looking away as he sat down, head in his hand as he let himself sink back into the boy he'd been on Shadow, nearly broken by so long fighting wars, fighting himself...





Gregory Quinn



Location: Captain's Office



As that question of hers came up, Gregory paused for a moment or two, he wasn't sure how to answer, telling her exactly why was unprofessional, but saying what he wanted to say as well was almost treasonous, by all counts. However, as he stared into her eyes, into the gaze of the woman he'd once dedicated his life to in every way, he found himself unable to lie, unable to say anything but what he wanted to say. "I wanted to see you again." He said plainly as he kept his eyes on her, for the first time in a very, very long time, actually letting a smile grace his lips, if only for a brief moment as he looked back down, as if it had been the wrong thing to do.

Looking back up at her, he cleared his throat, sighing. "I'm on a mission again... I've been assigned to head to Whitefall, some Firefly stuck on the surface there... I'm meant to capture the crew." While he didn't say what she would know exactly, every hint of his tone would push toward it. "I just hope things can go peacefully." He said quietly, an immense amount of meaning behind the words.
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@BlueSky44 - "Well then, I will get your baby back up in the air as soon as possible!" Gideon said as he sat down on the ground and slipped underneath the console. If the Captain had been in the room he would not have dared to call the Vindicator Daphne's baby but hell, she wasn't so he could. He felt the ship was as much his and Daphne's as the Captains even if they didn't own it. He repaired it, she flew it. It was as simple as that. "So, how did the ride back here go? The Mule handle alright or do I need to tinker with it some?" he asked wiggling his eye brows before chuckling and getting to work on the console.

@Morose - The place is a decent sized mess cause of everything but at least nothing is broken. It just needs some elbow grease. Over in the room with the kid from Patience's crew, there is some banging going on and a muttered voice. Sounds like the kid is bitching about being hungry or something but Dorothy won't be able to make out exactly what he is saying unless she opened the door. Thing is though, does she want to do that? He is injured so he probably wouldn't be much to put down if he tried anything then again, who knows what he has been up to since they locked him up.



Anisa Crowe

Location: Her Room (1)


Anisa turned slowly as Jackson spoke and sighed to herself. "To what end? You couldn't have changed anything. At most you would have died then as well. Then what would have happened? You'd be six feet under instead of still here," she said firmly. One man wouldn't have made the difference in the Battle of Serenity. They were out gunned and out numbered. Maybe she would have died as well trying to save his ass as he tried to save his wife. Maybe they all would be dead. Maybe not, maybe her and him would have still survived. She just knew though, even though she didn't know if she would have lived or not, his wife still would have died. She was the first to go. Nothing could have changed that.

Seeing him sit down and seeing the young boy she once knew emerge nearly broke her. Stepping over to him she sat down beside him and draped her arm over his shoulder, pulling him close and tucking his head beneath her chin like she used to if he was upset back on Shadow. "You need to start living Jackie. You have something to live for, if you would just see it," she said in a rarely soft voice before she kissed his forehead. Leaning back she forced a smile before making her way back to the stairs and then up and out of her quarters. She had other things to take care of and she knew if she stayed she would end up saying more than she should. More than he could probably take. She had waited all these years to say anything, she could take it to her grave if she needed.

Climbing up the ladder she made her way over to the Dining room and leaned against the door frame for a moment as she watched Atticus clean the floor while Gene and Lionel continued cooking. So she was back. Safely thankfully but she had put the crew at risk. Running off without word, after they were attacked, with Patience trying to kill them. She just left. It was reckless and the Captain didn't take her crew being put in harms way lightly.




Atticus Pearson

Location: Dining Room


Atticus nodded towards Gene as he got to work on cleaning the dining room, looking over to the two in the kitchen area of the same room before shaking his head a little bit. He wondered when the captain would make her entrance and tear into Gene for leaving. Granted maybe she wouldn't. Maybe the Companion had actually informed the Captain that she was going to leave before she had and everything was okay but it wouldn't surprise him if Gene didn't. She seemed to do what she wanted when she wanted. Granted she was paying for the shuttle so she could technically do what she wanted with it when she wanted, then again it was the Captain's ship and the shuttle was part of that, so the Captain did in fact have final say when Gene could and could not take the shuttle cause if the Vengeance needed to get out of dodge they didn't need to be held up at the last moment while they were waiting on Gene to get back.

That last thought made him sure that Anisa hadn't given permission. She wouldn't want the crew gone when Patience was sending people to kill the crew. So, Gene must not have asked and done it anyways. This was not going to play out well for anyone. He wondered when things went down if he should just keep quiet or speak up. He would wait to see how it actually did play out though because he didn't know what was going to be said and just how bad things were going to get.

Getting back to cleaning, he opted at least to slow down on the clean up some, so he would have an excuse to be in the dining room area when Anisa did appear. Hearing foot steps he looked up and say Anisa standing there in the door way with her arms crossed her her chest. She looked livid but underneath it she looked hurt. Something else was going on but she was hiding it well, wrath for Anisa came before any other sin.

"You ever leave this ship again to go fuck some one without consulting me first, I will leave you in the black," Anisa hissed coldly as she eyes Gene.



Camilla Powell

Location: Her Room (5)


Camilla found a small smile creeping along her lips as she heard him say that he wanted to see her. After all this time she had figured he had moved on, dedicated to the Alliance at all costs. That the Alliance came above everything, including her. Yet there he was right in front of her. Well not exactly in front of her but on the screen and it was as close as they had come in so long. To hear he wanted to still see her, it meant more than she wanted to admit. More than she could ever admit to those on the ship. She was already branded a traitor, someone not to trust. If they knew she was speaking to him right then, Anisa would slit her throat, that was if Jackson didn't get to her first.

Then the subject changed and her tanned skin went pale white. She understood what he was getting at and she felt sick to her stomach. She knew he would stop at not costs to get what he needed for the Alliance but there he was trying to warn her. Did he think that she would actually be able to convince the crew to turn themselves in? To him of all people? They would fight to the death, she knew they would. And she would be caught in the middle of it, expected to kill him and his crew to defend Anisa's crew. How would she be able to cross that line? It was one of her biggest fears.

"No Firefly crew will ever go easily. They will die before they are taken. They have learned the hard way there is no mercy when it comes to the Alliance.... They have learned the hard way that the Alliance comes first to its soldiers," she said firmly but quietly. Looking down she sighed as she pushed her blonde hair back out of her face. "We would rather die than be in the hands of the Alliance.." she added before her eyes came back up, a trickle of tears rolling down her cheek as she looked at him.

"Make sure you know what you are fighting for before you pull the trigger," Camilla said softly before cutting the call and flopping back in her seat. Looking up at the ceiling she wondered what was going to happen. She knew though she couldn't keep this from Anisa or the crew. She had to tell them their life was in danger, even if it meant loosing her own. She swore when she took the job on the ship that she would do whatever it took to repay the debt, even if it wasn't hers to repay.

Standing up she slipped up the ladder of her room and stopped as she heard Anisa tear into Gene. She cringed inwardly but she knew this couldn't wait. She just spat it out. "The Alliance is coming for us."




Jahosafat Moreau

Location: Med Bay


Glancing over at Harper as he left when paged he cocked a brow but nodded. He wasn't one to tell the man to say, even if his dear friend needed assistance. Thing was he did need the other box up there. It could wait though, it was locked up tight and there were few people on the ship right then because of how many that had been discharged before they took off. Turning he went to work on getting the vials of blood that he needed to start analyzing.

Then things became a bit more interesting as a page from the bridge came in asking for someone in medical to come to the out of order bathroom. The bridge didn't go into further explanation and it didn't even tell him why he was needed, just that he was. Well anyone from medical could do but right then there was no one else but him since well there was a skeleton crew there in the medical bay. Hell there was a skeleton crew for the entire ship. Granted there was another doctor but he hadn't seen the man since he walked off a while ago.

Rolling his sleeves up, he secured them and then grabbed his medical kit. Since there were no details given he didn't know exactly what he would need. Looking over at Foy and Carla he gave out a broad smile. "If you two would be kind enough to keep an eye on things right here for a moment I would appreciate it greatly. I will return post haste," he said before turning on his heels and making his way through the ship. Coming up to the designated bathroom he stopped in his tracks as he came to the rooms doorway and spotted Mr. Harper and then the scene. "Well I do declare it looks as if someone tried to suck an bull through a garden hose and failed in the worst way possible."
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Morose
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Morose Overwatch

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Dorothy Pender

Location: the Med Bay ---> Outside the Boy's Room/Cell


Dorothy closed her eyes for a moment, letting her mind be still and quiet. As much as she loved organization and keeping things in their proper place, even the doctor was feeling a bit weary after the events of the day. Still, all that was required was a good bit of work, a mild bit of sweat, and then the medical bay would be restored to perfection. She moved over towards her instruments, separating them off for sterilization, when she heard muffled sounds coming from what she assumed to be Patience's lackey.

"Bie woo lohng," Dorothy reminded herself, but her impulsive nature got the best of her. Her time in the Alliance military hadn't fixed that tendency, as much as she thought it would have. At least she didn't run off like Genevieve did, however. She wasn't nearly that far gone. Quietly stepping out of the medical bay, Dorothy peered around the corner. No one seemed to be around, and she frowned slightly, hearing the muffled noises continue.

"You best by dying in there to be making this big a fuss," Dorothy warned, standing outside of the door. The way the boy was acting, she figured something was wrong. However, it wasn't like they kept pet reavers on the ship, and there weren't any stowaways, as far as she knew. For a brief moment, her fingers lingered over the door, before she curled her hand into a fist, and put it back down by her side.

The boy was fine, she had seen to that. But now, he could be a wei shian dohn woo. She didn't want to deal with any sort of mess, no matter how injured he was. As long as he wasn't in need of medical attention, she decided to mind her own business, and leave him in the room. After what had happened to the Captain that day with Patience, the boy could stay quiet for a little bit. Dorothy certainly didn't want to have her head on a pike if she opened the door and the boy escaped. Anisa was, she figured, in a bad enough mood already.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Dragoknighte
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Dragoknighte

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Location: The Kitchen


Lionel stood and watched as many things happened in a too short period of time. He had just finished cooking and came up with 4 edible pieces of meat that wouldn't get anyone sick. Earlier, while neither Genevieve or Atticus was looking her tried a small piece of one of the steaks to make sure the whole thing wasn't ruined. What was put in his mouth was over seasoned, tough, dry and really, really gamy. Under ordinary circumstances, he would have refused to swallow the thing, demand to know who cooked the blasted meat, insult them vigorously and potentially fire them on the spot. However, at that very moment, it was one of the best things he had tasted in many years.

He stood by and watched Anisa come in and threaten to leave the companion in the Black if she ever ran off without consulting the captain again. He felt half an ounce of sympathy for the blonde, but in all honesty, he had made worse threats for lesser infractions. And it was no business of his to step in on how somebody runs a ship.

Camilla's news brought about a much different reaction from his prior apathy and frustration. That was bad news. Really xiǎngwěishé bù jìn bad news, and the old man's face contorted to match his displeasure with this information.

"Well we should get the Hell out of Dodge." Yes it was the obvious first idea. But it bared stating nonetheless.
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