Penny

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Sayeeda tossed the ration wrappers into the trash and wiped the crumbs onto her battle dress trousers. She drew a permanant maker from a closed pressure seal on her pants and wrote on the wall:

WISHLIST

She underlined the word and beneath that she added:

Coffee

That completed she slipped the pen back into its pocket. Maybe they could find some wideawake when they got where they were going. Not that she could afford to buy more than a cup of coffee right now.

"I had been planning to run guns out of Thaler, make some credits," she repeated, slipping past Neil to walk out across the cavernous cargo hold, her footsteps ringing hollow on the metal deckplating. A large multipurpose console was nestled amidst the conduits and duct work leading to the fusion bottle and she bought it live with a click. Readouts of reaction mass and output cascaded past, all pleasantly in the green. The system wasn't too dissimilar from those she had seen on the various skimmers she had crewed and the familiarity pleased her.

"More generally, I figured there are always people who need work done by professionals," she eyed Neil as she spoke the last word."

"Booster give me a ten minute alert to the mass shadow," she commanded.

@POOHEAD189

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Stuff that is established and immutable until I forget or it becomes narritavely inconvenient:

Worlds:

Hodierna- Industrial world with extensive jungles. Manufacturing cities are controlled by magnates who form a loose planetry government. Major trading center.

Saravan- (Alleged) Jungle world with piss pot dictator fighting internal insurgents. Xenos artefacts allegedly present.

Thaler- (Tha-ler)A highly technologically advance world. Sayeeda claims to know people here who can hook her up with gear and cargo.

Factions:

Cho-Lan: ??? Allegedly fighting the Kapur in the 'Eastern Reaches'

Kapur: ??? Allegedly fighting the Cho-Lan in the 'Eastern Reaches'

Organizations:

Andor's Armored: A now decommissioned mercenary armored regiment of which Junebug was a member. Andor himself has set himself up as 'president' (El Presidente?) on some nice world somewhere with the help of his troops.

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Junebug snorted and shucked the polymer wrapping off the candy. It had a faint holographic diffaction grating which made it shimmer in what she suspected was intended to be a pleasant fashion but it reminded her too my of Tznau flies on Campesee and she flicked it away irritable before popping the candy in her mouth. It was a pleasant mix of sweet and sour although and she allowed herself to enjoy it for a moment.

"Well stud," she said around a mouthful of chocolate, her tone injecting derision into her voice even as she chewed.

"I had hoped to hire on a pilot who wouldn't blast into space the first chance he got without so much as checking the atmo seals." She pulled the cap of a bottle of mineralized water and drank it down, washing away the last of the dust and heat of Hodierna with unfeigned pleasure. With a negligent gesture she crumpled the bottle and tossed it into one of the open trash chutes which presumable led to either a collection or a recycling point.

"I assure you Capt'm that everything be shipshape." Goddess's bleeding matyrs was that a Scottish accent. She cast a wrathful eye at the innocent faced Neil.

"Booster, refrain from interjecting into personal conversation," she said, eyes fixed on one of the speakers built into the wall.

"Aye Capt'm."

"The fuck," Junebug muttered shaking her head. She didn't dislike AI's exactly but she didn't trust them either. Most of her associations with them were cowering in a vehicle fighting compartment or in a fox hole while computer aimed plasma weapons swept enemy artillery from the sky with short precise bursts. Or not of course. The bomber will always get through. She pushed the sour thought aside and went on.

"After that, well I know some people on Thaler who can get me a few cargoes on spec. Refurbished millitary hardware mostly, guns sure, but sensors and consoles and the like. I figure that with the Cho-Lan and the Kaphur's going at it so hard in the Eastern Marches there is probably good money to be made."

She eyed the pilot up and down, dark eyes measuring him. He really didn't strike her as a gunman, though he had handled that ARC like as though he at least knew which end was witch.

"Do you have much experience with bounty hunting?"

@POOHEAD189

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

The ship thrummed with subtle life as Junebug headed down the companion way. Entering the Rip usually required a good deal of velocity and the engines were running up at several G's worth of inertia, as much as the gravity pumps could compensate for. It was possible to accelerate faster, much faster but once the gravity compensators were overwhelmed it would get dangerous for the crew both in terms of gforces and in keeping their orientation with the hull. It would also have the unfortunate effect of stressing the hull and damaging components, something Junebug, a penniless captain of a somewhat less than new ship, was keen to avoid.

The Highlander was off a split decked design, aft of the cockpit were four sets of cabins, each little larger than a prison cell and divided by movable metal bulk heads, as well as a simple head and shower combination. Following that the corridor opened up onto the main hold, a two story tall void which was accessible via dropping the port and starboard ramps when on the ground. Behind that was the engineering section, a nest of closely packed machinery clustered around the magnetically sealed engineering compartment in which squatted the quietly thrumming fusion bottle. Beneath the living quarters was a small multipurpose space which Junebug guessed was a combination kitchen, mess and infirmity as wall as an impressively large machine shop. There were a number of familiar tools but there seemed little in the way of spare parts, whatever had been in stock had either been exhausted by use or traded away.

Sayeeda guessed that she could probably move a pair of combat vehicles in the main hold and perhaps a company worth of men and equipment if they didn't mind being packed in like cattle. It seemed wasteful to be flying with the space open but there had been no time or extra money to fill the hold with trade good for Savran. Junebug didn't know what sort of trade goods were in demand on Savran but she would have gone with weapons. There was a war on after all and even if there wasn't humans seldom needed excuses to arm themselves to the teeth. In addition to the formal rooms there were a network of access hatches and maintenance shafts to let the crew get at more esoteric parts of the ship. The highlander had a port and an aft airlock and Sayeeda was relieved to see that both airlocks had eva suits. She touched the suits integral sensor and was gratified when it came to life and reported the suit integrity as 100 percent.

She traced her steps back to the galley/surgery and pulled open the cupboards. There were no medications beyond the standard type of first aid kits one finds in motor vehicles of all sorts but there were several crates of what looked to Sayeeda to be protein rations. The serial numbers suggested they were less than a decade old, which, all things considered was unusually fresh. She was tearing one of the boxes open when she heard Neil's foot steps ringing on the metal companionway. She pulled a powered knife from her pocket and, not bother to power it on, cut the seal on one of the ration boxes. The familiar smell of preservatives and industrial carboydrates floated out and she took a bar of compressed cellulose from is packet and bit into it, chewing determinedly.

"Well? What do you think of her," she called to her pilot as he stepped through the hatch.

"Think they have any coffee?" she asked with the doubtful but hopeful tone that people used to bad news but not willing to give up on optimism manage to perfect.

@POOHEAD189

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Elspeth sat back with a satisfied smile on her face. She looked like a painting by some Tilean master, reclining on her chair and somehow holding court over all she surveyed.

"I know that you have given your word, to recover the scarab but it isn't the first time you have broken your word is it," she went on reasonably. Ricardo shook his head at first slowly and then more vigorously as he thought about the question.

"And you could certainly inform your patron of who stole the scarab and simply omit any mention of to whom he sold it could you not?" she crooned, caressing the words. Ricardo continued to nod like a composers metronome. Elspeth made a languid gesture and one of the servants moved gracefully to the table and sat down a silken bag upon the polished wood of the table. It clinked metallicaly and when Elsepth stirred the silk with a manicured hand gold coins slid forth onto the table top, shining brilliantly in the light of expensive wax candelabras.

"I will of course, compensate you for your forgetfulness, perhaps even off you sanctuary here with us... or..." she trailed off thoughtfully. Her eyes seemed to size up the handsome Tilean.

"Perhaps we could send you back to Riario... with the right support you might be the Count one of these days." She laughed as if such an undertaking were an easy thing, then straightened to her feet beckoning to Camilla with a long finger crooked in imperious command.

"You boys talk it over, I'd like to have a word with your lovely companion for a moment, in private just us girls." She flashed a stunning smile and Camilla couldn't bring herself to raise an objection as Elspeth led her back through a panneled door. The pounding in her chest increased with a sort of juvenile excitment that she couldn't remember having felt even as a girl as Elspeth led her to a large bed chamber on which brilliant white silk sheets were laid out. Elspeth sat down upon it and patted a hand for Camilla to join her.

"What is it that you wan't Camilla," the woman asked her, her head turned slowly so that her blue eyes locked with Camilla's at once icy and smoldering. Thoughts of Cydric and their adventures together flashed through her head in a disorganized cascade.

"Oh I think we can arrange for plenty of excitment in your life... you can even keep the Ostlander," Elspeth purred, her smooth hand rising to touch Camilla's cheek. It was shockingly cold, almost like the touch of marble.

"Would you like to stay young and beautiful forever?" Elspeth teased and she drew Camilla towards her slowly, pressing their lips together in a kiss.

"DO you want power to make the world the way you wish it?" Elspeth went on her lips almost feverish hot compared to her icy touch. Somehow without knowing how Camilla was kissing her, needing her more than anything, her old concerns seemed foolish things now. Clearly Elspeth would never hurt her. The woman was kissing her neck now and pushing her back onto the silken sheet, her raven hair fanning out behind her as Elspeth climbed atop her with a grace which Camilla herself would have struggled to match. THe other woman leaned close trailing kisses down the side of her face till her lips kissing Camilla's neck hungrily.

"This will only hurt for a moment," she crooned ,"And you shall be reborn."

@POOHEAD189

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Junebug decided that bludgeoning her pilot into unconsciousness would be even less feasible now they were airborne she promised herself the day was coming however.

“Booster,” she said, using the military commo term for an AI, “highlight the gunnery console.” For a moment she thought that the AI wouldn’t answer the unfamiliar term but a moment later the mechanical voice responded.

“There are no designated consoles on civilian vessels Captain,” the computer replied. Rather than waste any more time she slid into the padded seat of the most elevated of the for consoles and pulled the security straps down over her armor, securing herself in place. The console provided an adequate view of the cockpit window over Neil’s or Firestorm’s or whatever other bloody thing he choose to call himself, shoulder.

The console came up with a thrum when she pressed the activation stud, a holographic screen flickering to life. She took her ceramic helmet from her belt and plugged it into the console, hitting a series of keystrokes to download her internal software into the console. Immediate the streams of meaningless guages and data resolved themselves into the familiar read outs of the station she had trained with. The communications light was blinking an angry red ‘priority one’ alert. The ship did not report that it was being painted with radar, lidar or any other weapons targeting system so Junebug relegated the message to ‘priority when I get to it’.

Remarkably the ship remained more or less in the green as it ascended through the atmosphere. Despite the artificial gravity it bumped and shook as it shoulders its way through the thinning tropical air. In theory there was a chance of collision with other ships, but in practice all of Hodierna’s shipping came in predictable channels, either down to the manufacturing cities or to private estates like the one they had just yet. Men like Golran were more than happy to shoot down a rival's ship that strayed into their turf and claim a ‘unexpected technical failure’ bought the ship down. Seeing they would have physical custody of the wreck there wouldn’t be anyone to gainsay them.

With the slow majesty of a sunrise the buffeting began to fade and the air peeled back away from the ship to reveal the inky blackness of space. Sayeeda hit a few keys and bought up a panorama of Hodierna as seen from the rear sensors. Later, she was going to have a long talk with Neil about trusting AI assessments of equipment. She wasn’t particularly irritated with the surprise ascent, seeing she had managed to survive learning about it.

The redlight continued to pulse angrily and Junebug reluctantly thumbed the switch.

“Highlander Six, go ahead,” she said, instinctively falling back into communications discipline.

“Captain Cyckali, we had not finished discussing matters, return to the ground at once,” Gorlan’s irritation was unmistakable even over the static broadband radio transmission.

“Negative ground,” Sayeeda said, her mouth twitching into a grin, “Highlander is outbound, we will be shaking down for three zero minutes before we clear the gravity well transmit any further instructions. Highlander out.” She broke the connection. A moment later it began to pulse again but she ignored. Gorlan might be a partner but he was going to learn that a ship had owners and then it had a captain and she was the captain of this ship by the Goddess’ Blood. She thought of the small bindle she had left in the rented truck that had bought her to Gorlan’s compound. Truthfully there wasn’t much there and she had sold nearly everything she owned in order to meet Gorlan’s minimum fee for the Highlander. Screw itlet whatever scavenger or street rat take it. For a moment she enjoyed the silence and then she spoke.

“Neil, get us in a stable orbit free of the gravity well and tie us into the nav beacons so we can start computing the rip for the trip out.” She unbuckled her safety straps with the slap of a hand.

“I’m going to check out the rest of the ship.”

@POOHEAD189

Frokane's Mildly Politcal Hangout Thread

Now now we must add any kind of rational examination to these things.

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

"Sounds like a plan," Sayeeda responded, wondering if the pilot really expected her to refer to him as firestorm.

The hydraulics hissed as Junebug pressed the activation stud to the internal hatch. The bulkhead separated a little more ponderous than she had expected as the internal jacks withdraw the heavy door panel. You couldn’t be a mercenary and not have some experience of starships and Sayeeda, whose exact sidereal age was confused by weeks at near ftl in assault ships had endured more than most. There was a difference, however, a difference between a passenger, no matter how frequent and a pilot. To her the inside of a starship, especially the operational areas remained a strange and unfamiliar place.

The interior of the ship smelled faintly of hot electronics and of hydrocarbons in various stages of decombustion. Most starships functioned by using a fusion bottle to hydrolyze water molecules and then pump the resulting hydrogen into the fusion thrusters. Water was also used as a working fluid for most other processes, not because it was the most effective substance for the job but because its residues were less toxic than the alternatives. Everything on a starship inevitably became part of the atmosphere and long haul crews cheerfully traded the lower performance of water in order to avoid the various poisonous or carcinogenic alternatives.

The interior of the ship was lit by overhead glow stripping that bathed everything in a pale white blue light. Several of the panels were missing and the corresponding dappled lighting effect made Junebug slightly uneasy. Intellectually she knew there was no danger lurking in the shadows but veterans didn’t live to become old veterans by taking a relaxed attitude. She made a mental note to get the shoddy lighting fixed as soon as it was practical.

A large hallway - companionway? What was the spacefaring term?- branched off in each direction, one leading to the cockpit and another back into the heart of the vessel. Electronics, some familiar, others novel to her eye, was packed onto every inch of the walls and wire conduits ran overhead. Even the floor was raised panels beneath which the electronic veins of the ship pulsed. Junebug ran her fingers along a snaking tangle of fiber optic cables which hung along the right side wall.

Without discussion they turned right and headed for the cockpit. The hatch whirred open to reveal a medium sized room the shape of a flattened hexagon. Junebug would have guessed it was around the size of a large bedroom in a moderately prosperous home. Several console which looked a few generations behinds the top of the line models Andor’s Armored had used for LOG section and TechInt hummed in powered down modes. The smell here was much more clearly that of hot circuits than burning propellants. The forward viewport took up the entirety of the front wall of the cockpit and the bright sun streamed through the transparent aluminum and warmed the bay despite the efforts of an archaic air conditioner to keep it at ambient.

It was one of the sexier things Sayeeda Cyckali had ever seen.

“I’m a little wet right now,” she murmured so softly as to be unintelligible to anyone standing near her. Or so she thought.

“Would you like me to alter the ambient air characteristics Captain?” A metallic emotionless voice asked and the shock of it nearly sent Junebug grabbing for a nonexistent side arm.

“Identify yourself,” she snapped, surprise transmuting to fear as adrenaline coursed through her veins making her dark skin prickle.

“AVLN-22-Kelo, Artifical Intelligence, Highlander.” The voice responded in mechanical preset. AI’s were a feature of most human ships. In some ways they were old tech, simple AI’s were relatively easy to create but failry limited. Ships on the other hand had both complex systems and incredible computing power. The kind of computers that could chart courses through ripspace were the most advanced in the human galaxy and the kind of computing power needed to create an AI was afterthought when the astronavigation was off.

“Damn.”

@POOHEAD189

Frokane's Mildly Politcal Hangout Thread

Not all bisexual women are fans of Halsey but all Halsey fans are bisexual women.

@Dynamo Frokane

Never heard of her, I'll have to listen and find out if I am bisexual. I'm sure a number of naval historians are breathing easier though.

Frokane's Mildly Politcal Hangout Thread

Not all bisexual women are fans of Halsey but all Halsey fans are bisexual women.

@Dynamo Frokane

Who is Halsey in this context?