The ORION Files (Closed/Started)

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"Fine," She said after a moment or two. "And you're right about the crew, the whole crew needing a rest, especially after a shit-show like that." His 'justification' was bullshit in her opinion, but that was something to be handled later.

"Also, we need to do something about Sweety." She added, gesturing to the ship around them. "Once the shit settles and the Grandies finish making themselves look like the good guys, they're going to be gunning for us. This is something that I guess should be run past the others as well, but I think we should head for Tortuga Drift."

Tortuga Drift, or more simply Tortuga, was the second largest pirate port in explored space, but unlike the well-known New Providence Resort, Tortuga was considered 'off limits' to any and all non-pirates; not the sort of place one randomly decided to stop at.

"My Ident code should still be good, so I can hopefully talk us past the perimeter. Once we're there, we can go for some R&R, have the 'Shipbreaker' give Sweety a new transponder, and maybe mount at least a couple of PDLs."

The Orion Files | Mother Ship: Sweet Child of Mine | Hanger
The Great Prank War of 2815: Shots Fired!!
Irina Rostikova

Let us get one thing completely clear before this portion of the story is started: If you have to choose between tracking down an unknown broadcast being sent from inside your mother ship, possibly by a spy that has questionable intentions, versus the sound of boots walking through the umbilical connecting your shuttle to the mother ship which may or may not contain a spy that has questionable intentions, the obvious answer is to find out who the hell is walking through your airlock.

Reaching behind her, the paranoid puddy-tat locked one of her four flechette launchers to her wrist, setting the weapon's power to minimum to order to avoid punching several dozen micro-holes in the airlock. She'd already destroyed and repaired one airlock, she wasn't about to destroy another. Creeping up on the airlock, the Catican Merchant Mechanic pressed her back against the side of the Redeemer's interior hull, waiting until the unannounced visitor was close enough for a guaranteed shot.

*thump... thump... Thump... THUMP... THUMP!*

Jumping from her hiding spot, Irina pointed her weapon at the intruder, fulling intent on shooting whomever it was in the chest until she noticed some rather peculiar things about her "visitor." The first thing she noticed was the fact that it was Grace. The second thing she noticed was that Grace was armed with quite an assortment of paint, markers and a couple grenades. The third thing she noticed was that Grace was wearing a gas mask. The last thing she noticed was the pin in Grace was wearing on her left index finger. It was a strange looking ring that looked of no significant ornamental value.

*TINK!!...TINK!... tink... tinktinktink...BOMMMPH!!!*

The anesthetic grenade was rather fast acting and took hold before Irina's Nantex system could activate and keep her from inhaling the night night gas. Standing in the middle of a rapidly spreading cloud of gas, the stunned Casteless Catican looked at the smoke grenade between her legs then up at Grace... then back to the grenade... then back up at Grace... and then up... towards...the... ceiling...

"Grace? What...the...hell...are...you...doing?" Irina said before she passed out in a haze of sweet dreams.

*THUD!*

------------------------------------30 minutes or so later------------------------------------

"Yo Cockhead!"

"Nyuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhh..." Nappy Time Irina groaned loudly as she rubbed her head, trying to figure out why she when she'd gone to bed and wondering who was screaming outside her cabin door... only... she wasn't in her bed and she definitely wasn't in her cabin. Strangely enough, she found that she was not alone, "Edward?" She asked the strangely covered feline face staring at her... only it didn't answer her... it only stared at her.

"Hey! Ed! i'm talking to you..." The Dream Doped Drone Mistress yelled as she pulled herself off of the ground and stared directly at the feline face looking at her.

*TINK! TWINGWINGWINGWINGWING*

That was not Not-Edward responding to Irina, it was the cleverly rigged Nitrous Oxide grenade rigged to detonate when its victim got up off the floor.

*THWOMPH!!!!*

"Oh... now I remember... damn..hehe... you... hehehehe... GRACE!!! HEHEHEHEHEHEHEH! HAHAhAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAH!" The Giggly Catican Go-Getter started laughing uncontrollably as she looked for a quick escape and saw the open airlock door.

"My Ident code should still be good, so I can hopefully talk us past the perimeter. Once we're there, we can go for some R&R, have the 'Shipbreaker' give Sweety a new transponder, and maybe mount at least a couple of PDLs." A familiar sounding voice said on the other side of the ship umbilical just as Irina passed through it.

"Tor...Tortuga!? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! You... HAHA... want... HAHAHAHAHAHAH... to go to... HAHAHAHAHAH... that... HAHAHAHAHAHAHA... place?! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Irina practically howled, wrapping her arms around the first thing in arm's length, namely Mary's neck, "HAHAHAHAHAH! You know... HAHAHAHAHHAAH... I... HAHAHAHAHAH... might have... HAHAHA... a contact... HAHAHAHAHAH... that owes me... HAHAHAHAHHAHAA... a favor... HHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAH. She... HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH runs the... HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA... Cat Scratch... HAHAHAHAHAHAH... Club!!!!!"

Now, between you and me, Mary and Captain Walker... I wouldn't know which you would consider more bizarre. It might have been the bad impression of that old timey Terran folk character, The Joker, or it might have been the rather bizarre paint job that someone had given to Irina.

"I LOVE HUMANS LONG TIME!" The markered words on Irina's forehead proudly proclaimed, matching the blinds and curtains blue dye job that her fur had been given.


The Orion Files | Mother Ship: Sweet Child of Mine | Hanger
Coming Soon!!!
SARA-00735

"I'll provide support and cover on this mission. Can't have a hole bored in the ship." Announced Elliot as he joined the transfer team en-route, equipped with what looked like a series of shield emitters across his body, no doubt in case the explosives in the suit kicked in. Smart move Velka thought, it made her consider how the Sentinel Armour System she had installed on her would stack up against explosives, it was certainly effective against ballistics and even light energy weapons, but explosives were something she hadn't fully tried it on.

'First time for everything as they say.'

"Thank you, Operator Elliot, assistance is most welcome," Velka said in a somewhat cheery tone of voice.

"Can't say that I like the idea of a rigged armor. It's the choice armament of a suicide soldier, and that doesn't track; since you're still here. Why do your superiors want you to die?"

"While my superiors would find it a waste of resources for my explosive fail-safes to detonate, destroying both myself and my armor, it would be a critical security issue if you were able to extract information from my data banks. Were it one of your crew mates captured by my comrades, would you not expect them to kill themselves rather than reveal your identities or location?"

'Assuming we had a fixed point of contact and actually cared about one another to learn people's names. Besides that, she does have a point. The question is though, why haven't you flipped the switch? Waiting for something else to happen first? Or expecting something or someone to come running?' With that in mind, she sent a message to the transfer team but directed more towards Bryan.

"I think you might be going in the right direction with your tracking signal theory; though, cannot confirm until we have more information."

It was at this point that the group reached the workshop, after a brief stop at Velka's quarters to pick up her repair kit; might come in useful during the diagnostic, and could already hear noises coming from the other side of the door, obviously, Pitt was already in there. Velka banged on the door a few times and suddenly the noises stopped. Some curse-filled muttering could be heard before the door opened slightly. Pitt looked at Velka up and down a few times before throwing a few glances at the others.

"What do you want, mech?" He asked with a definite hint of coldness in his voice.

"I am under Captain's orders to make use of your workshop in order for some diagnostic work to be performed on the prisoner here," Velka stated rather plainly, gesturing towards Unit SARA.

"Let me check first before you lot barge in here." He said before turning to a communicator and speaking to Walker briefly before returning to Velka.

"Fine, Captain has cleared you, so I guess I oughta as well. Just don't cause a mess." He added before opening up the door properly and then going back to the workstation he was at. As the group wandered in, they could see it was certainly stocked with various tools, pieces of equipment, assorted scrap, and even some of the leftover gear they acquired from Chronus that no one immediately claimed.

"Right, Brian and Elliot, ensure that the prisoner is secure and provide overwatch in case anything happens; Shanoa, you and I will work on armor removal." Whilst she said all this, Velka sent a private message to Shanoa.

"Make sure any outgoing signals you come across are isolated; would prefer not to set off some kind of distress beacon as Brian and Captain Walker mentioned."

<<< Mar >>>
Sweet Child of Mine | En-Route to Tortuga Drift | Mar's Personal Cabin
"I just need a minute."

As both the Captain and Mary showed more than a little concern over the state of her, given that she had lost quite a bit of blood and was only just recovering from a trio of gunshot wounds, the Shree pilot relented with a huff and steadied herself with a false-hand on the nearest counter.

"Fine. I get it. I'll take it easy, but I expect reports from whoever is flying this boat. Just because I'm in no shape to pilot right now doesn't mean I don't want to know where we're going." she told Walker as he started to walk off.

When Mary patted her shoulder with a "Catch you later," and went to follow, Mar only smirked and shook her head as she watched the former pirate scramble to catch up. With that, she blew out a breath and steadied herself for another moment before she exited the Med Bay in the direction of her own cabin.

While she was aware that she probably ought to get herself clean, both Walker and Mary were right: She needed rest, first and foremost. She was in no condition to really exert herself very much, and as simple as it might have sounded, she didn't feel up to scrubbing off what bloodstains the Med-Doc didn't clean up during the procedure. So when she got to the door to her own cabin, she opened it with a grateful sigh, and as it whooshed open she paused at the doorway.

Before signing on with ORION Company, she had been living for several months aboard the Devil-Fish, and while the space itself was comparable, the feeling was entirely different. In a lot of ways, that shuttle was her real home. But living out of it wasn't by choice, it was by necessity. It was solitary, and while it had privacy, that was simply because there was no one else that could invade said privacy. Here, she actually had other people around her, and this was very much her space. That meant something.

As she strode inside, she turned and wearily plopped down onto the red, worn-out couch in the center of the rather cramped quarters. Inside was everything that had been in her shuttle's hold, which meant that it was rather sparsely decorated and without much in the way of personal memorabilia. Save for the single, ornate display case next to the bed.

Glancing over at it, Mar couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips. Inside that display case was a cacophony of color and shapes, made up of several dozen model ships. Each one was a model of a ship that she herself had piloted at some point, and they were painted lovingly to resemble those very vessels. Some were even missing parts, or had pieces added that clearly weren't standard, much like the real things. There was even a little bit of space for a few more. But in the center, in a place of honor, was a model of her shuttle, the Devil-Fish.

As she lounged back on her couch, she murmured, "Probably oughta use this time to paint those models that I never got around to finishing."

Stretching her legs a little, she whined softly before she finally started to relax.

"Get to that in a little bit." she said softly as her four red eyes started to slowly flutter closed, drifting into a light nap.

Walker listens to Mary and agreed with her on most of her points. Though he had to say something about going to Tortuga. "Tortuga?" Are you-" Though before he could say anything else. Out pop Irina and she was looking a bit...well let's just say odd at the moment. She was also laughing like a madman. Walker was wondering if she was going crazy from the mission. She tried to talk but kept on laughing nonstop. It was hard to understand what she was saying but Walker picked up a few things.

"Well...before we agreed to go anywhere, we need to bring it up with the crew. I'm not doing anything without them knowing just yet. Go get some rest Mary, you still look beat up from that flight..and Irina .." he looks at her and sees she was trying to stop laughing, and she was failing hard. "Um..clean yourself up alright and...get yourself check out." He left. Wanting to rest himself and drink himself to sleep until the meeting was called for.

Brian gripped SARA's shoulder as they began to walk, put his pistol to her back, and moved her as Velka directed. Silently nodding along as they went, he took a moment to look at the contents of the workshop as they arrived and SARA was moved inside it. Useful tools and crap in equal measure in his eyes.

"Right, Brian and Elliot, ensure that the prisoner is secure and provide overwatch in case anything happens; Shanoa, you and I will work on armor removal."

"Alright."

Before Mary could get an answer from Walker about heading to Tortuga, she was accosted by laughing and bizarrely coloured Irina.

"Tor...Tortuga!? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! You... HAHA... want... HAHAHAHAHAHAH... to go to... HAHAHAHAHAH... that... HAHAHAHAHAHAHA... place?! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAH! You know... HAHAHAHAHHAAH... I... HAHAHAHAHAH... might have... HAHAHA... a contact... HAHAHAHAHAH... that owes me... HAHAHAHAHHAHAA... a favor... HHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAH. She... HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH runs the... HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA... Cat Scratch... HAHAHAHAHAHAH... Club!!!!!"

"Whoa there, Kitty!" She yelped as the Catican slung an arm around her neck. "I'm not one to say anything about how somebody unwinds after a job, but you may want to pace yourself." Using her left arm to help prop up the nearly helpless fuzzball, she lightly grasped Irina's cheeks with her mechanical right and lifted her head, so she could get a good look at Irina's eyes. Dilated pupils...probably an inhalant of some sort. It was at this time she noticed the 'graffiti' across the Catican's forehead.

Right about then Walker stared to say his goodbyes. "Fucking Hell you're useless!" She snapped. "Kitty's been dosed with something and you're not the slightest bit concerned? Fucking amateur!" Still supporting Irina, Mary helped her over to the closest airlock and then opened the associated wall mounted emergency kit. Grabbing an emergency oxygen bottle, she stuffed the mask over Irina's face and opened the valve full bore, flooding the Catican's airways with oxygen in an attempt to clear whatever she'd taken from her lungs. "Just breathe, it should hopefully clear up in a bit."

Leaving Irina sitting in the corridor, she stood and shot another ugly glare at Walker. "I'll explain in detail what I'm talking about once we get everyone together...but I'm still thinking that getting the Hell off of this shit show of a garbage scow before somebodies idiocy kills me is my best bet." Pulling her flask from its pocket, she took a rather long pull; still muttering under her breath, she headed off to go throw herself through a shower.

Walker stopped after hearing that Irina had been dosed with something. Sighing out as he should have done more check up on Irina. Walker over to her and check her eyes and such. As she breathes he could see they were still a bit dilated. "Damn it.Irina what happen?" Walker asked. He felt shamed for his quick dismissal of Irina condition. He didn't know Irina too well and thought she was alone in her time of preparing the airlock and just did something during her down time. While he would against his team using drugs, he can't any much since he drinks more than the normal limit of alcohol. "Did someone attack you when you were repairing the airlock?" He asked as he let her breath in the fresh air from the oxygen tank.

The Orion Files | Mother Ship: Sweet Child of Mine | Hanger
The Great Prank War of 2815: Preparation Phase
Irina Rostikova

"Inhale... ... ... Exhale... ... ... Inhale... ... ... Exhale... ... ..." Said the disembodied robotic voice soothingly as it paced Irina's breathing, allowing her to cleanse her body of whatever toxin was in her lungs as well as reminding her to breath. As inefficient a method of controlling someone's oxygen intake, it was also far more comfortable than a breathing pump.

"heh... heh heh heh... heh heh heh..." The Giggly Kitty chuckled, still under the effects of the Nitrous Oxide, looking at both Captain Walker and Mary as they attempted to find out what had happened. It was surprising that Mary, the Crew's resident hard ass with a license to do whatever she Goddamned pleased (and what she appeared pleased to do was reprimand the Captain on how he was running his ship), had taken a moment to assist the Cackling Casteless and, for the moment, Classless Catican. Despite having only known her a short while, this was the second time that Mary had come to Irina's aid.

"Just breathe, it should hopefully clear up in a bit." Mary said a bit more gently than the Catican Merchant Mechanic was used to before shoving off in the direction of the ship's bathing suite, leaving Painted Pussy alone with the Captain.

"Damn it, Irina, what happen?" The Captain demanded, his cheeks looking a little flushed from having dismissed Irina's condition. Were it a more serious and fatal condition, the Formerly Chuckling Catican might have been fairly angry with Captain Walker, "Did someone attack you when you were repairing the airlock?"

Well that was a loaded question if Irina had ever heard one. On the one hand, a man of Captain Walker's position required the truth from his crew at all times, otherwise trust between the Crew and their Leader could not form. On the other hand, there was one thing that crews universally loathed and that was someone who snitched on their comrades. It took her a moment to weigh out the option, though the Captain was rather patient through the many "heh heh hehs" that sneaked their way past Irina's lips.

"Heh heh.. no Captain Walker. I wasn't attacked." The Feline Fixer fibbed as she felt the effects of the laughing gas wear off, "I was ummm... checking on the Redeemer's medbay to see if had sustained any hits when one of the Nitrous Oxide canisters errrr... fell on the ground and ... ruptured. The Feline-esque female said, her final sentence slightly trailing upwards as if asking a question.

Of course that only explained the laughing gas part, the painting part was going to have to be believable.

"Then... I... ummm... called in one of the Jenna drones... that's the repair drones that I use... and I um... wanted to have her seal the canister but I accidentally... had... her... paint me?" Again with the question mark at the end of her report, "And so here I am... all... painted for a party... heh heh heh"

Thinking back on the situation as it had unfolded, she vaguely remembered seeing Grace standing in the airlock looking rather... dangerous but what had happened afterwards was a bit more fuzzy. She'd probably have to check the logs and security feed to see what had happened or... be a polite crew mate and ask the woman what had happened.

"I'd probably better wash this paint off of my fur before it sets. I'd hate to be this color forever." Irina commented as she pushed herself off of the deck and started heading for the crew's shower area, pausing for a moment and turned back to the Captain, "And Captain... I found out who the Escrow Agent is... you might want to step away from the airlock because as soon as you hear who it is... you're liable to throw yourself out of it.... heh heh heh... It's Katya... my sister... oh but before you decide to go knock back a couple shots... you might want to check out the fact that we've been broadcasting a location beacon since we took on that prisoner."


The Orion Files | Mother Ship: Sweet Child of Mine | Hanger
The Game of Operation
SARA-00735

Despite the fact that SARA-00735 was aboard an enemy vessel whose former purpose was ferrying cargo from one dead end colony to another, she was forced to admit that she was impressed by the ship... or rather she was impressed that the she still functioned despite the fact that it, more than likely, predated the formation of the Terran Grand Republic. It fit any generic ship of TGR make with perfect accuracy: cramped quarters, cramped corridors, cramped cargo containers and the kitchen was probably cramped as well. Upon entering this "Workshop" that belonged to the crew member known as Pitt, the person that was responsible, she assumed, for keeping the ship from leaking atmosphere into the void. Glancing around the area, she could see quite a few parts that were being refurbished and repaired.

"Interesting that you would choose your main repair shop to remove an explosive device from my body." The Soldier commented, "Were it to explode, not only would you lose several replacement parts for critical systems but the means to repair the systems that do become damaged in the explosion. This ship is not military run, is it."

It felt like such a curious thing, the fact that SARA-00735 was offering advice and her own insight into the situation. While her training had taught her that in situations where a soldier is captured that the only information that they were to give was their designation and serial number, the captured reconnaissance unit felt... compelled to cooperate with the crew that, despite her status as their enemy, had treated her with a fair amount of respect, more than her masters did. Among this motley assortment of disparate individuals, she almost felt like a human. It was a sensation that she was loathed for forget, but knew she would be forced to if either she was 1) destroyed in a blast from her armor or 2) recovered by her organization and debriefed... a process that involved a memory wipe.

"If we can begin. You will need to access the diagnostics port at the back of my armor's neck support. Once linked, you will need to breach a password that has been encrypted by a 1024 bit key. Once that has been bypassed you will have access to the diagnostics systems. You will need to enable the medical assist ejection system. Once that is enabled, you will need to depress a pair of toggles located on either side of my hips for 30 seconds before standing back. After 30 seconds my armor will disengage using low powered explosive bolts." SARA-00735 reported flatly as she looked at the one known as Velka.

As stated before, the Paladin Shields were a wrist-device that opened up and extended into a physical shield shape...that was lined with emitters of a repulsor-tech nature. It was essentially the combination of two worlds of protection to create a solid means of defense...on top of his already-applied defense. Elliot was employing this as a matter of common sense, especially since he didn't want to be the guy who said 'These'll save your life' earlier, and then forget to actually USE them. So, as his assistance was welcomed, he followed the prisoner entourage. This was when the prisoner in question inquired vis-a-vis the morality of self-extermination to protect information.

"It would be better to fight to the death, in that instance, but no I would expect comrades to hold-out for rescue - where feasible - first. Of course, given how your people operate, I'm guessing they'd only come within range of us to kill you, then leave. Not very kind of them."

But still, yes, in a hopeless situation, it's less about taking the coward's way out and more about trying to take them out before forcing you to die. Life is a struggle, and should remain so. Meekly accepting the end just isn't the way. Anyway, they arrived at Pitt's workshop, and Pitt was not in an amicable mood, but hey...captain's orders, so they would be piling in. Better to deal with the bomb than waste time making arguments, right? Speaking of not making an argument, Elliot had none in regards to being ordered to do what he came here to do, anyway.

"Totes fine, by me."

Whereupon, Sara began to unhinge her trap once more about things that basically did not concern her, like the expediency of bringing someone who might explode to the mechanical expert while surrounded by tools and parts. Her remark about it all being un-military-like made Elliot chuckle.

"Amazing, it's like we're a loosely-organized band of mercenaries thrust into an unexpected situation that would require quick wits and quicker action. Imagine that."

Sarcasm, thy name is Elliot.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Yes, well...given that her initial assault had been so successful, Grace had proceeded to infiltrate, even as Irina had initially slept, and continued thus after she awoke to uncontrollable laughter. Since Redeemer was a small ship, it wouldn't take that long to graffiti it, meaning there was plenty of time to act, and she would waste no time in doing it. A professional 'hit' should never be lax. No, not even when doing so for a laugh, or as suitable payback. Thus, the interior of the Redeemer was a casualty of Prank War. That would include Ed's room, especially if he was not around. Grace was silent, except for spray-sound, and efficient. And when she was done, she would access Redeemer's computer to get at the camera logs...of which everything was in Catican.

Connect implant, search 'Catican-Standard Dictionary', superimpose.

Aaand problem solved. Grace would throw out the empty cans into the disposal, and then decided to go wash up.

"Interesting that you would choose your main repair shop to remove an explosive device from my body. Were it to explode, not only would you lose several replacement parts for critical systems but the means to repair the systems that do become damaged in the explosion. This ship is not military run, is it?" Commented SARA after Elliot and Brian gave their acceptance of orders. Velka wanted to point out that it wasn't exactly her decision to come here, but she didn't want to give her more ammunition to use against them. SARA then gave a description of how exactly to go about disassembling the armour, which turned out to be more complicated than first thought.

Velka set her nano-repair kit down onto a counter next to a chair where they sat SARA down and resecured her handcuffs to limit the possibility of escape, but still allowed the Reshani access to the necessary interaction ports. She then took a couple of moments to adjust the settings on her kit's repair tool in order for it to function as a diagnostics tool and link it to her wrist computer.

"Amazing, it's like we're a loosely-organized band of mercenaries thrust into an unexpected situation that would require quick wits and quicker action. Imagine that." Elliot remarked with a noticeable hint of sarcasm which made Velka crack a smile.

"Agreed, given the circumstances surrounding our rather hasty assembly, I am surprised we are able to do as much as we did," Velka remarked, finishing her modifications and inserting the now diagnostic tool into the associated neck port and was already getting a fair amount of new information.

"Right, Shanoa, given your level of experience in this field, I'd like you to perform the decryption protocols necessary to further access this armour system, whilst I handle any hardware issues we come across." Once Shanoa had gotten started, Velka turned back to face SARA.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, how long have you been in the service of your employers?"

Shanoa replied to Velka's request to lock down any transmissions this armor might put out with 'Was planning on it.' as she followed the group into repair bay.

Once they arrived she waited for her turn to do what she does best, and once Velka had set her up, Shanoa plugged in and was greeted with two options. Option #1; rip through the security system and force it open that way. Option #2; Try the password to unlock it, banking on who ever was in of maintenance being overworked or lazy, or just not interested in something complex.

She decided to try the password first.

Less then 2 minutes after plugging in ..

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Shanoa exclaimed, clearly pissed about something. "Of all the stupid, lazy, incompetent bullshit I've seen ..." she stopped, composed her self. "I'm in." she said, her tone flat. "Your never gonna believe this ... The Password, was 'Password123'." she said, as she disarmed and unlocked the suit. "I'm not detecting any transmissions, but just to be safe, I've disable the transmitter." Shanoa unplugged. "All yours"

<<< Mar >>>
Sweet Child of Mine | En-Route to Tortuga Drift | Mar's Personal Cabin
"I've got a bitch of an itch on my--Oh nevermind."

When the lounging Shree woke, her eyes lazily opening to look up at the ceiling of her cabin, she was acutely aware of an incessant itch that centered right in the small of her back. Right above the wounds in her back in fact. Wounds which were still tender and only severely uncomfortable thanks to the anesthetic she had been given earlier by the Auto-Doc.

She shifted a little on her couch in discomfort. Made a few grumbling noises in the back of her throat. And with an irritable snort, she finally got onto her feet and decided that if nothing else, a shower would probably help. The fact that she still had some dried blood on her meant that she was due for one anyway.

With a roll of her shoulders, Mar strode across the cabin to one of the cabinets that had been there when she was first aboard, where she had unceremoniously shoved most of her things. It took a few minutes of cursory searching and the occasional muttered curse before she finally found her toiletry bag. It took a minute more for her to simply grab a change of clothes that she deemed suitable after only a moments consideration.

She strode out into the hall with a wide yawn, closing the already-open door behind her and took a few long strides in the direction of the showers and locker room.

When she got there, she was mildly surprised to find it deserted of any other crew members. The Shree casually dumped her fresh clothes, along with her throat translator, on one of the benches in the cramped locker room before choosing one of the unused lockers for her own. Once it was labelled, she stripped, stuffed the tattered remnants of her pilots jumpsuit into it, and then strode into the showers with another yawn.

The Orion Files | Mother Ship: Sweet Child of Mine | En Route to Showers
The Great Prank War of 2815: Preparation Phase II
Irina Rostikova

One would think that with the amount of time she'd been aboard the Sweet Child of Mine, Irina Rostikova would have been move familiar with the freighter's design and layout. However, she had probably been physically been aboard the Sweetie for a sum total of one standard Terran hour for the mission briefing and a brief hello to the crew with the remainder of her time spent aboard the Redeemer. Walking down the corridor, the Confused and Colorful Casteless Catican made a couple stops on her way to the showers to peek through a couple of doorways to both make sure that she hadn't passed the showers and to confirm that she traveling the correct direction towards her destination.

Popping her head through another door, she noted that she'd arrived at the medbay where her burly heavily armed partner appeared to be looking through a catalog of various anatomically accurate diagrams regarding the human anatomy and its critical biological systems. She also noted that Edward appeared to be downloading the ship's entire library of DNA samples.

"If you're thinking of attempting to sell those to the Hegemony, I should probably remind you that 1) If we try to talk to anyone we don't know in the Hegemony, they're liable to try to capture us for the bounty and 2) I'm fairly sure that that's a default library of DNA sequences which the Hegemony probably has many times over." Irina said to her partner whose back was turned to her.

"As I am fully aware but in the..." The Catican Shock Trooper stopped mid sentence when as he turned around and spotted the rather motley paint job that had messed up his companion's fur, "What happened to your fur?"

"I'm... not quite sure." She stated as her brain attempted to reconstruct what had occurred,"I remember Grace being there... but not much else after that. Someone painted up the interior of the Redeemer also."

"Have you informed the Captain?" The By the Book Brute asked.

"No. I told him it was an accident inside of the ship."

"If this is what I believe it is... things will only get progressively worse if you do not inform the Captain."

"I'm sure it's all going to be okay, Edward. Could you order a few of my Jenna's to go in and clear up the paint? I need to get washed off before this paint sets in my fur, otherwise I'm going to have to strip all the dye back to my natural color." Irina stated with a shudder.

"Affirmative. See that you do not step on the toes of any of the other crew members." Edward stated as he left the medbay, heading back in the direction of the Redeemer, allowing Irina to continue her search for the hidden location of the showers.

Walking a few more doors down, she saw Mary walking through the corridors. Seeing that the Terran Pilot was still wearing what she was wearing when she'd assisted the Cackling Catican, it was assumed that Mary had not yet showered. Silently running up on the Pilot, Mary was surprised by a pair of fuzzy hands that covered her eyes.

"Guess who?"


The Orion Files | Mother Ship: Sweet Child of Mine | Redeemer | Drone Control Suite
Cleaning time!
Edward Aubergine

Grumbling loudly, Edward eyed the work of vandalism that had been painted on the interior of the Redeemer. Whomever had decided to turn the interior of HIS shuttle into their own personal painting canvas had not done so with the intent of being overly malicious but they had the skills to wipe away the security feed. Given that Irina remembered the appearance of Grace aboard the ship, it was a natural assumption that the woman was responsible. Removing his armor, the Colossal Catican walked towards the Drone Control Suite, the Sharp Eyed Shock Trooper spotted an object on the ground... the safety lever to a grenade. Picking the object off of the ground, he gave the item a long and controlled sniff, picking up any residual scents that remained on the item.

As expected, he smelled Irina the strongest, though he doubted that she was actually the person that detonated a grenade in the middle of the ship. The second strongest was also familiar, though he was unaware of who it belonged to. He could only guess that it belonged to Grace herself. He would probably have to have a word with Elliot so that if this was some sort of escalating war of pranks, there would be no permanent damage to either ship or crew.

Heading into the drone control suite, the Shock Trooper pulled up the command console and ordered the Jenna Repair drones to begin an internal scrub of the shuttle.


The Orion Files | Mother Ship: Sweet Child of Mine | Pitt's Workshop
Sacrifices
SARA-00735

The deactivation of the transmitter was probably a poor decision on the part of Unit Shanoa but given that the Freighter had not yet been attacked, it was more than likely the best alternative to the situation that she had found herself in. Because the transmitter had been deactivated it was not impossible for her armor to transmit location data. If the armor was unable to broadcast location data, the armor's programming could assume that it had been captured. If the armor had been captured, it needed to destroy itself lest clues regarding the wearer and the armor's manufacturer be gleaned from an analysis of the equipment.

Given that the freighter had jumped immediately after the landing of all of this crew's ships, it could be surmised that her comrades were still in the midst of combat with the TGR and the Chronus capital ships and that they were unable to track the freighter's jump vector. Strangely, there was an odd sensation that came from her abdominal muscles that made her feel "ill," as humans called the sensation. In the back of her circuits, there was a portion of her artificially constructed personality that did agree with how events were about to unfold.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, how long have you been in the service of your employers?" Unit Velka asked, breaking SARA's thoughts regarding her impending explosive demise.

"To be quite honest, I do not have an exact measurement on the matter as my logs are scrubbed after each deployment." The Unit responded, pausing for a moment, "However, the main technician in charge of my maintenance states that he has known me for decades."

"Now that the diagnostics port has been unlocked, might I be so bold as to suggest that Unit Shanoa and Unit Velka exit this workshop? The presence of your electromagnetic radiation might cause the explosives package installed in my armor to detonate." SARA stated in as neural a tone as she could muster. While both Shanoa and Velka were part of the enemy company, they were programmed to follow their commands like SARA was and like they appeared to with her, SARA wished them no harm.

"Now then, Engineer" She said, turning to face the one that had allowed them access to his workshop, "You will need to access the Diagnostics port and enable the medical ejection override. You will also have to set the explosive bolt output to minimum. This will allow for the removal of my armor without jeopardizing its function nor sending potentially explosive portions of the armor flying through out the workshop."

Was she being overly helpful to her captors? Was she overplaying the role of helpful, Stockholm syndrome sufferer? She wondered what they would think when her armor exploded.

After a quick detour to get some clean clothes and her shower kit, Mary was on her was to the showers/locker room, when she was accosted from behind by a fuzzy assailant.

"Guess who?"

"A little fur-ball who's taking a big risk if she's not careful." She replied with a smirk Irina couldn't see. Having stopped moving as soon as her vision was obscured, Mary dropped her shower gear and let her shoulders relax for a moment, settling her footing before she acted.

Her hands shot up and locked around Irina's wrists, trapping the shorter girl. With the arms immobilized, Mary twisted and ducked, forcing Irina's arms to cross and bringing her own shoulder down to about mid-section height for the Catican. Stepping forward, she released Irina's arms as she put her shoulder into the other woman's midriff; grabbing Irina in a 'bear hug' as she did that, Mary stood and in doing so hoisted the humanoid feline into the air. Changing her grip so that she was pinning, the now backwards facing, Catican's legs with one arm, Mary retrieved her stuff with her free hand and continued on her way.

"Now just what shall I do with you?" She asked rhetorically, chuckling as she did. Entering the shower/locker room, she tossed her stuff in the direction of said lockers and continued on to the, surprisingly occupied, shower area.

"Hey Mar, it's good to see you up," She said with a note of surprise. "But shouldn't you be resting still? I mean, I know Shree are more durable than us spindly humans, but you did just get shot." Ignoring the protestations of her furry 'luggage', Mary walked over to a free shower and turned the water on, despite the fact that both she and Irina were still fully clothed. Letting Kitty soak butt first for a moment or two, she then unceremoniously plopped Irina onto the shower floor. Laughing at the sight of the brightly coloured, and rather bedraggled, spectacle on the floor before her, she then offered Irina a hand back up. "It's good to see you on your feet as well Kitty...what the Hell happened back there?"

As she spoke, Mary was stripping out of her now sodden flight suit, revealing to her shower companions her collection of tattoos, the scars of a rough and tumble life, and the fact that she was not wearing underwear of any kind beneath her flight suit. Things could 'shift' during hard manoeuvring, and that could be distractedly annoying.

Walker

"Heh heh.. no Captain Walker. I wasn't attacked. I was ummm... checking on the Redeemer's medbay to see if had sustained any hits when one of the Nitrous Oxide canisters errrr... fell on the ground and ... ruptured."

Walker gave her a 'Are you kidding me?' look before she continues.

"Then... I... ummm... called in one of the Jenna drones... that's the repair drones that I use... and I um... wanted to have her seal the canister but I accidentally... had... her... paint me? And so here I am... all... painted for a party... heh heh heh"

He was about to reply that but she kept on talking. Walker was getting a bit annoyed that he couldn't get a word in, but he then remembers he blew off her condition. Which right now, she trying to play it off as something nothing to worry about.

"I'd probably better wash this paint off of my fur before it sets. I'd hate to be this color forever. And Captain... I found out who the Escrow Agent is... you might want to step away from the airlock because as soon as you hear who it is... you're liable to throw yourself out of it.... heh heh heh... It's Katya... my sister... oh but before you decide to go knock back a couple shots... you might want to check out the fact that we've been broadcasting a location beacon since we took on that prisoner."

A mixture of emotions swirl within his mind. Katya? Really!?! Of all the people to be here, it had to be her! He thought he would never see her again, but she or someone close to her keep popping up in his life. Next, Irina was hiding something. He didn't know what, but he knew she didn't do this to herself. She seems like a kid who was trying to tell a lie about not eating chocolate, while they were eating the chocolate still!

Next, there seem to have a signal somewhere within the ship that shouldn't be. He thought it was taken care of but wasn't. He sighed out and walk towards the workshop to see what was going on right now. He needed that signal to stop now before something bad happens.

More to come...maybe..depends..

Even though he was one who was currently only here in the capacity of a well-armored guard, Elliot felt that he was getting along with the crew of this boat fairly-well. He was not, of course, friends with Mary in any capacity, but her desire to not be hunted was being fulfilled, as per the contract set by her brother. The team also had a number of teething troubles, but they seemed to recognize good judgement when it was called on the fly. That much was good. It meant they wouldn't get their asses shot off in a crisis. You know, like...the one they were in? Of course, that led back to Mary again, who was pissed. Elliot wasn't exactly sure what about, but the mission HAD gone south, so it's not like there wasn't a reason, in general.

Right now, though, the not-human-who-certainly-looked-and-acted-human was really focused on their captive, Sara, who had no memory of how long she's been working for their unknown third party. Given the style of her explosive armor that they were now working to disarm, he didn't have any trouble believing right now that she was a patsy. I mean, no offense, but she didn't seem all that bright. Oh, technically inclined and perhaps decent at her job in theory, except for the part where she was {A} captured and {B} apparently a sacrificial lamb to the slaughter. This made her an accountant with a gun, potentially dangerous, but mostly to oneself. At this time, she had asked Velka and Shanoa to leave the room and let Pitt do the work, because of EMP concerns.

This had better not be a ploy. I'm really not in the mood for that kind of fun.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

You know, it's funny. Everybody had arrived at the showers, one by one. Here's a question for you: If you're all there, conversing in this room of flowing water and steam-filled air, I have to ask...do any of you even notice when an additional shower switches on to allow the white-haired stealth operative to wash off the day?

"To be quite honest, I do not have an exact measurement on the matter as my logs' are scrubbed after each deployment." That last part raised a few issues, Velka wondered why that was the case; one would assume that given her line of work, any operational history data could be used against the company if captured, but even that theory didn't exactly hold water. "However, the main technician in charge of my maintenance states that he has known me for decades." This, in theory, sounded plausible, after all, given her not exactly human nature; but without concrete proof as to her origins, the Reshani Reconnaissance Operative was suspicious.

"Now that the diagnostics port has been unlocked, might I be so bold as to suggest that Unit Shanoa and Unit Velka exit this workshop? The presence of your electromagnetic radiation might cause the explosives package installed in my armour to detonate." Unit SARA then went on to explain the process of how exactly to remove the armour from her to everyone, though obviously directed towards the engineer Pitt. Before Pitt could start though, Velka raised a hand to attention.

"I'll forgive that baseless assumption about my presence being an issue based on how limited Reshani physiology is known to the galaxy at large. Our bodies and systems are designed to be shielded from outside electromagnetic and electronic interference; so by definition, we do not emit anything noticeable on the electromagnetic band, except for purpose built things such as communicators. Miss Shanoa, I assume you are in a similar position?"

Whilst she waited for a response from Shanoa, she sent off a private message to Captain Walker;

<<< Mar >>>
Sweet Child of Mine | En-Route to Tortuga Drift | Communal Showers
"Translators are great for not sounding quite like a Space Hick."

For someone who had spent the last half-year or more cooped up in a small cargo shuttle with nothing more than a few paces worth of space in any direction with only a tiny decontamination chamber for cleanliness, a hot shower was a luxury worth drawing out. Especially when Mar found out that the temperature settings gave her a lot more freedom than she expected, with the the upper limits being around 60 Degrees Celsius.

She decided to leave it at around 48C, and considered that appropriate restraint.

The imposing Shree pilot was simply enjoying the shower's spray when she heard the sound of approaching footsteps and opened her eyes, turning to see who it was. When she saw Mary stride in with a struggling Irina thrown across one shoulder, Mar watched with a look of bemusement.

"Hey Mar, it's good to see you up, but shouldn't you be resting still? I mean, I know Shree are more durable than us spindly humans, but you did just get shot."

Mar merely cocked her head a little and pointed a questioning true-hand's finger at Irina. So when Mary decided to turn on another shower head and drench her Catican companion, ass-first, the Shree simply shook her head as she let out a huffing laugh.

Her next reply could only be described as an unintelligible string of growls, snarls and snaps, and somewhere in there there might have been a sound that could have equated to one of their names. It was said in a deep, almost smoky voice, one that was distinctly feminine despite the low register. It was also quite unlike the voice synthesized by her throat translator. Once Mar said whatever it was she said, she looked over at Mary expectantly.

A moment passed, and after another grunting Shree-laugh, Mar waved a dismissive hand.

"Jusht fuckin' with you. I am all right, for now. Know where the ship is headin'?" she asked in somewhat stilted Galactic Standard as she bent down to grab a rather rough-looking bar of what had to be soap from the bag by her feet.

While she could speak Galactic Standard, among a few others, the abundance of teeth in her maw made it difficult to pronounce certain sounds. The result was the occasional lisp, and a very backwater-sounding drawl.

"Well, I'm an AI so, ya know, I don't 'emit' anything." she said, sitting down. "Though if your talking about my shell. No, It's built for stealth, so I've done everything I can to eliminate anything you can track vai sensors." Shanoa added, watching the prisoner.

"Wouldn't be a very good 'stealth unit' if it wasn't set up to reduce or eliminate such things ya know." Shanoa just keeping an eye on things at this point, still annoyed about the lack luster security on the suit, and wondering in general why so many stupid people where in charge of such sensitive equipment.

Brian stood back from the work as the two machines examined, broke into, and took control of the armour. Watching them carefully, casually checking his pistol, and examining the various tools around the workshop for utility wondering if there was anything useful to him. Aside from the oddities of the manufactured's behaviour and the suspicions he had about them, he wasn't very concerned with the two working on it. Unless he was right about enabling the ejection system triggering the explosive. Doubtful obtuse possibility but with her behaviour he thought it possible.

Taking a moment to himself he disconnected the ports on his helmet and removed it, placing it on one of the workbenches, and began fiddling with a pack of smokes. Self-contained, self-lighting, narcotic, and clean. He placed one of the tubes between his lips, twisted the end, and inhaled before turning his attention back to the prisoner.

The Orion Files | Mother Ship: Sweet Child of Mine | Redeemer | Drone Control Suite

Edward Aubergine


It was sometime between assigning the Jenna repair drones to clean up the interior of the Redeemer and chasing off a malfunctioning machine that had permanently encoded itself with the identification alias of "TR@CY!" that Edward Aubergine had realized that he had not taken in sustenance since joining Orion Company. It was understandable considering the circumstances and events that had transpired since then. There had been a rather tense briefing with one of the Terran Mega-Corporations, a botched theft mission and the crew's subsequent escape from certain death. While the Redeemer was stocked with an assortment of non-perishable Catican food stuffs, the Catican Shock Trooper was rather curious about the type of goods Terrans consumed, since he had never dined at a Terran establishment (mainly because the chairs they provided were too small for one of his size).

Giving TR@CY! one last baleful glare, the Four Eyed-Four Armed-Muscle Bound-Militant Kitty passed through the Redeemer's airlock and into the interior of the Sweet Child of Mine's hanger. Glancing around he noted that the Devil-Fish was empty and assumed that the crew had either taken her to a holding cell of some sort or moved her to a secure location where he armor could be removed or taken her to an interrogation room. In any of those scenarios, the prisoner was not his responsibility and therefore, he was able to take the time to seek nourishment.

Heading down one of the rather terribly tight fitting corridors, the Rather Large Linebacker Sized Soldier found himself forced to traverse an obstacle course of low doors, exposed wiring, heat exchangers and open doors with views of the showers occupied by his crew mates, one of which was Irina herself.

"Is that some kind of Terran foreplay, Mary? Can't say I'm familiar." He heard Irina say, giving the Curious Catican cause to pause and look back through the door... only to be disappointed to find that his partner was acting as translator.

"A shame." Edward mumbled before passing through another set of corridors and into what appeared to be a combination galley and common room. A quick visual scan of area revealed that he was alone and the most likely spot where the food stuffs were stored. Opening the doors to the cold storage unit with a dramatic swing of both arms, the Catican's face was lit by the unit's interior lights, highlighting his widening eyes as they fell upon meal stored inside.

"Meat..." Edward muttered as he started pulling item after meaty item out, piling them onto a food preparation surface.


The Orion Files | Mother Ship: Sweet Child of Mine | En Route to Showers
The Great Prank War of 2815: Preparation Phase II (cont.)
Irina Rostikova

"(I could certainly get used to this.)" Irina thought to herself with a smile as she was carried from the corridor towards the shower, "(Maybe I should hire someone to carry me all day, maybe pleat little bows in my hair and treat me like I was one of those Pure Bloods...)" the unbidden thought completed itself in the Painted Puss-Puss' mind, causing her to cringe. While Pure Bloods lived a rather luxurious life, free to do whatever they wanted, those in Irina's previous Caste, the Servitor Caste, had been expressly to provide them with a labor force.

Watching as the corridor walls passed, the Sharp Eared Drone Mistress could hear the sound of running water, alerting her to the fact that someone was already in the shower area, someone who watched as the Green and Blue Dyed Former Domestic was deposited on the shower floor, with her clothes on, with the water running at full blast.

"Hot! Hot! Hot!" Irina almost said before catching a glimpse of the third of member of the Showering Soiree. Mar, the sharp toothed, sharper tongue Shree, eyed the human pilot before letting off a series of growls, snarls and snaps, indicative of the Shree language, "Is that some kind of Terran foreplay, Mary? Can't say I'm familiar." Irina muttered the translation as she started to peel off the layers of painted clothing from her body, depositing it as unceremoniously on the tiled floor as Mary had with her. While this might not have been the normal manner in which the Merchant Mechanic treated her belongings, the paint had ensured that they were thoroughly ruined and unwearable. Stepping towards the shower head, the Catican enjoyed the sensation of the water hitting her skin and the sight of the blue and blue and brown paint mingling together before flowing down the drain... wait... brown?

"Aww dammit!" The Catican cursed as she looked down at her body fur, noticing that its original color was starting to show through the other dye job that she'd had done prior to her arrival on the ship. Business was a rather serious affair with its own formalities and rituals and beliefs. One of those beliefs was on that people engaging in business should be properly and professionally dressed and not overly decorated with gaudy jewelry, or overly tattooed or dyed hair... which was unfortunate considering Irina's natural hair color was just a shade lighter than Cotton Candy Pink, "That's the last time I buy dye from a homeopath... there's just no way natural, organic, vegan, chemical free dye is going to stay on as well as regular burn your skin and nether parts dye."

Pausing for a moment, Irina registered the question that Mar had asked Mary before the two had been interrupted by Irina's complaining.

"Tortuga... Mary and the Captain decided we're going to Tortuga. It's probably the best place to go since we're going to have to stay under the radar, at least until we figure out how the job got screwed up so badly." The Feline-esque Female said as she lathered up some soap and thoroughly scrubbed all over her body, intent on not keeping any of the paint or hair dye on her, "Do either of you know much about that place? I mean I've heard things about it but I've never been there... the only thing that I know for sure is that a group of Caticans runs a brothel out of that location. They make quite the fortune on both ends from what I've heard... that sounded a little ... dirty didn't it?"

Turning around to wet her hair, Irina was caught by surprise by the sight of an also naked and showering Grace. Seeing her gave the previously drugged up drone mother a sense of deja vu, except that instead of bandoleers filled with paint and a gas mask, she was completely, utterly naked.

"Hi Grace!" Irina said with a polite wave.

Mary stood with her eyes closed, enjoying the warm water, and tried in vain to decipher what Mar had said initially. She'd been taught a tiny bit of a couple of Shree dialects by various former crewmates, enough that she could get the gist of a conversation if the others spoke slowly; unfortunately, what Mar spoke wasn't one that she knew.

"Jusht fuckin' with you. I am all right, for now. Know where the ship is headin'?"

"Is that some kind of Terran foreplay, Mary? Can't say I'm familiar."

Fortunately Irina did apparently understand, and translated. Eyes still closed, she laughed and ran a hand through her hair. "Na, if it'd been foreplay, my hand would've been somewhere much more fun...did you know that a Catican's tail can be quite sensitive, especially near the base." Grinning, she turned her back the shower head and opened her eyes.

"Aww dammit!"

Before she could answer Mar's question about where they were headed, Irina's outburst caused her to look over, and burst out laughing once again. "Aww, Kitty is pink!" She giggled. "I had a stuffed toy when I was a little girl that was that exact shade." Once again running a hand through the hair on her head, she tugged at it lightly. "Sometimes it worth spending the extra credits." For those that were inclined to look, it was obvious that there was no carpet did to match the drapes.

"Tortuga... Mary and the Captain decided we're going to Tortuga. It's probably the best place to go since we're going to have to stay under the radar, at least until we figure out how the job got screwed up so badly. Do either of you know much about that place? I mean I've heard things about it but I've never been there... the only thing that I know for sure is that a group of Caticans runs a brothel out of that location. They make quite the fortune on both ends from what I've heard... that sounded a little ... dirty didn't it?"

"What our fuzzy pink friend said." Mary replied, starting to lather on the soap herself. "As for knowledge...Tortuga was my 'home port' for twenty five standard years, onboard an ex-TGRN Homeworld class Fleet supply vessel, the Maiden's Hand. Unlike the more well-known New Providence Resort, Tortuga is sort of a 'Pirates Only' drift so you don't get mercs or that many smugglers out there, which considering the fact that the Grandies and/or Chronus will probably want to throw us under the bus for that fuck up, is a good thing; that and bounty hunters get sniffed out pretty quick."

Grasping a soaped up wash cloth in her right hand, she locked her hand and elbow, then grasping her right 'bicep' with her left hand, she tripped the automatic disconnect for her prosthetic arm, transforming it into a large and rather pricy back brush. "But yeah, I know the place your talking about. It's probably the single most profitable brothel on the station; last I heard there was something like a six month wait to get in."

"Hi Grace!"

"Huh...SWEET FUCK!" Turning, Mary was rather surprised to see the pale (possible) bounty hunter in the showers as well. "Damn it Grace," She chuckled, now using her detached arm as a pointer. "You're too quiet for your own good, you know that?"

As Walker walks towards the Pitt's Workshop, he felt his communicator vibrate. Pulling it out of his pocket as he looks it over and seen a message from Velka.

Captain, Velka here with a status update. We have managed to get past the initial layers regarding the armour, and Shanoa has successfully deactivated the transmitter beacon within it. Currently working towards getting the armour removed without triggering the armour's explosive security feature.

He smiled at this news as he sent her a quick message back.

Good to hear Velka. I'm on my way right now.

Walker took a few more minutes before he reaches the workshop. Walking in as he saw them standing around as they try to figure out to take off the armor. "Any progress yet?" He asked as he closes the door behind him.

Pitt

Pitt rolled his eyes as they chatted among themselves. He really wish the Captain didn't send them here as this IS his room and HIS workshop. Though he knew they really had no other place to put this...dangerous person who may or may not have a bomb strap to her armor and ready to blow up at a moment notice.

"Everyone shush. Too much talking and it's already giving me a headache..Before we go ANY further and do something stupid..." he glares at the machines. "Let me at least! look at the model details." He grumbles a bit as he scans the captured soldier's armor with a scanner. The green light getting every part of her armor as he takes it to one of his machines and hooks up the scanner to it. He would then sit in his chair and going to work.

"We don't know fully the model or what they could have done to it. We should at least look it up and we might get a hit on how to do what we need to do. And on another note..I don't believe we should trust the capture, 'ready to die for my cause', soldier on her word alone..." Pitt said without the scrambler. While he hated the idea of talking to them, they were on the ship and part of the crew now. Plus this whole thing seems beyond FUBAR by now.

Meanwhile, a message would appear on Grace computer.

I can't give the details yet, but I will get in contact with you soon as I can, the brass is chewing everyone out here. Make sure you're ready for the call when I make it.

Grace had been showering and basically listening in to things, making no attempt to join the conversation or indicate that she was there. It was how she did things. Unless she had something to say, she was quiet about it. For instance, she hadn't known that Mar had been injured - which was that they were talking about right now - but because she didn't have anything to say about that at the moment, no input was given from her end of the shower room. As she did shower, though, she noticed Irina enter the room and...she smirked, briefly. Of course, you couldn't really tell if it was in reference to her reacting to the hot water or if it was because she knew WHY she was here like this.

The Catican started talking about Tortuga - since, apparently, their operation required them to find a place to 'go to ground' for a while - and Grace actually began to access information with her implant. Doubtlessly, Mary DID know plenty about it, but she always searched for information independently to determine how much of what was said was true or not. She was interrupted, somewhat, by Irina calling over to her. At this, Grace just gave her a small wave. Of course, this caused Mary - who hadn't noticed her at all - to turn and jump in shock at her silent presence. That produced another smirk, especially since Mary had begun to laugh herself, using her detachable limb as a pointer. Was she too silent for her own good?

"This is just how I've been, for a long time now."

Mary might recognize this response, between what she said and her expression while saying it, as a case of 'What was necessary to survive' kind of answer. What have you had to do to get through the day, under harsh conditions? In Grace's case, it was remain silent at all times, wait on opportunities, and strike without warning. Grace looked at the limb in Mary's hand now, then back up to her face.

"How did it happen?"

Yes, Grace asked a question out of curiosity, possibly even concern. She was quiet, not heartless. The message sent to her, by the by, was relayed to her implant and she read it with only a tilt of her head. This was from Captain Williams, was it not? She'd relay it to Elliot later, as she did not keep her comlink with her in the shower. It was rude, even though it was waterproof.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

In the meantime, Velka and Shanoa were disinclined to acquiesce to Sara's request.

.....

Means NO.

They weren't leaving, because they didn't have unstable EM emissons and didn't buy the story, anyway. It was more likely that Elliot's Paladin Shields would have such a thing, except of course that he knew that they DIDN'T, because he'd read up on them and knew that they were recommended for bomb disposal because of their stability in that area. Pitt, meanwhile, seemed to have a healthy dose of survivor paranoia, namely that level of which that allowed you to remember to check everything and make sure that the thing that might kill you is or is not going to kill you before proceeding.

"You're a guy after my own heart, Pitt. The unknowns will have almost certainly put in a boobytrap failsafe under such circumstances. The only reason we have to believe our prisoner is that she is still here when exploding right now would doubtlessly put us all in a very bad position."

This was no reason not to be sure, of course, which was why Elliot approved of Pitt's paranoia. It was the kind that questioned a bomb so that it wouldn't explode, keeping all their innards from becoming outards and all that.

<<< Mar >>>
Sweet Child of Mine | En-Route to Tortuga Drift | Communal Showers
"Primping, preening, and (un)pleasant memories."

To Mar's surprise, it seemed that Irina was quite capable of translating her native dialect for her. The Shree nodded a little as she glanced back toward her, looking thoroughly impressed. While Shree were reasonably widespread throughout the galaxy, she hadn't met many people that actually understood any of her species' languages. She had no idea how common the dialect she spoke was, but she was always under the impression that it was effectively rather... Provincial.

"Na, if it'd been foreplay, my hand would've been somewhere much more fun...did you know that a Catican's tail can be quite sensitive, especially near the base."

At that, the Shree Pilot's lips spread into a wide, toothy grin and giggled. Or at least, it seemed to be a giggle, despite the fact that it was deep and rumbling, and she opened her mouth to say something when Irina cursed.

Looking over at the showering Catican, Mar noticed that not only was the green and blue paint she was caked with streaking down into the water towards the drains, but so were streaks of brown. Which left the presumably clean patches of her fur pink.

She merely shook her head as she began to scrub at her true-arms, then moved to her false-arms in short order. Really, she considered herself somewhat lucky: Shree might not have had the luxury of being able to dye their hides, at least not like some species dyed fur and hair, but it meant that they never had the issue that Irina was currently contending with.

"Tortuga... Mary and the Captain decided we're going to Tortuga. It's probably the best place to go since we're going to have to stay under the radar, at least until we figure out how the job got screwed up so badly. Do either of you know much about that place? I mean I've heard things about it but I've never been there... the only thing that I know for sure is that a group of Caticans runs a brothel out of that location. They make quite the fortune on both ends from what I've heard... that sounded a little ... dirty didn't it?"

Tortuga Station? While she had heard of the 'free port', Mar couldn't actually say that she knew much about it, although her less-than-savory lifestyle of the last few years had her docking with several similar places. But, to no-one's surprise, Mary knew quite a bit about Tortuga.

"What our fuzzy pink friend said." Mary replied, starting to lather on the soap herself. "As for knowledge...Tortuga was my 'home port' for twenty five standard years, onboard an ex-TGRN Homeworld class Fleet supply vessel, the Maiden's Hand. Unlike the more well-known New Providence Resort, Tortuga is sort of a 'Pirates Only' drift so you don't get mercs or that many smugglers out there, which considering the fact that the Grandies and/or Chronus will probably want to throw us under the bus for that fuck up, is a good thing; that and bounty hunters get sniffed out pretty quick."

Pausing in the middle of a crouch as she scrubbed her legs, Mar nodded and raised a true-hand.

"Now New Providence, I know. I have smuggled more than a few shipments to that shtation before. Not a bad place, has a decent club scene." Mar said, finishing off her legs before closing her eyes and taking a small breath as she scrubbed the bar of soap over her face.

When she stood up, facing the oncoming stream of hot water, she could hear Irina greet Grace, followed shortly by Mary's startled curse, causing her to smirk a little. Wiping a hand over her eyes, she glanced over and saw the slight Terran woman, naked and showering much like the rest of them. Still, she was a little surprised that she didn't notice her come in. Despite being rather distracted, she felt like she should have at least known when she got there.

She didn't feel too bad about it, however, since given Mary's response, it was clear she didn't notice her entrance either and even pointed out that she was, in the ex-pirate's words, 'too quiet for her own good.'

"This is just how I've been, for a long time now."

With a low hum, Mar nodded with a slight frown on her lips. Her response was a little too familiar to one she had gotten from an old, hardened human smuggler, she had gotten to know not long after she was banned from the SRL. He was the one that had actually gotten her into smuggling. And after a few months of getting to know him, she asked why he was such a crotchety, confrontational old bastard.

His response had been to pause for a few moments, then lean back in his chair and look her in the eye. His expression was an odd mixture of wry humor and sadness, and not a little pity. And he said, "Girlie, I've had to be a mean old sumbitch for this business. It's been a long time since I've been anythin' other'n mean."

Sighing softly, Mar rubbed her face with her false-hands before she paused. With a shrug she reached over to her toiletry bag and pulling out a small jar. No reason not to take the opportunity to look a little prettier for a change. As she opened it, she overheard Grace speak again, and gave them a sidelong glance as she asked about how Mary got her arm.

"Did you lose your arm in the shame inshident that took your legs, Mary? Dogfight with barge?" she asked as she dipped a true-hand into the silvery cream inside the jar and began to spread it over her face, scalp, neck and shoulders.

Mary simply nodded at Grace's reply; life on the fringes of civilization was rough to say the least, and everyone had their own ways of surviving.

"How did it happen?"

"The arm? Would you believe a masturbation session that got a little carried away?" She replied with a smirk and a laugh.

"Did you lose your arm in the shame inshident that took your legs, Mary? Dogfight with barge?"

"Spoil sport." Having finished scrubbing the parts of her back, with her detached arm, that she couldn't normally reach, Mary slotted the upper arm back into the shoulder socket with an audible 'click'. "Actually, I lost it as the result of a gambling disagreement...and believe it or not, I was merely an innocent bystander." She added, doing her best 'innocent little girl' impression.

Body scrubbed, she began working shampoo into her scarlet hair. "This was more than a few years ago mind you; we'd just come back to Tortuga and were celebrating a good haul, when some drunk started shit. Now I don't remember any of this...my memory stops about the time I walked into the bar, but according to others, just after our fifth round this jackass stumbles over and accuses Lil Jim of cheating him out of a whack of credits in an earlier poker game."

Mary's story paused as she stuck her face into the stream of water to rinse her hair; with that done, she killed the taps. "Anyways...Lil Jim tells buddy to fuck off, so the moron pulls a sawed off scattergun out of his coat, and in his haste and drunkenness, puts a load of flechettes through my shoulder at about a meter and a half; blows my goddamn arm off, and then gets his fool head splattered." Shower done, she stepped away from the others and retrieved her towel and began to start drying off.

"The actual hardware is pretty new. Few months before things went to shit for me, Cap'n caught wind of a Grandy R&D 'blacksite' outside their borders. Place was trying to be ultra-low profile, hiding in a nothing system; but we knew where to look. Pounced and blew the hangers before any fighters could launch, boarding parties only hit armed science types...target practice really...so we stripped the place. I took this kit as my cut."

The Orion Files | Mother Ship: Sweet Child of Mine | Kitchen
Food Coma...
Edward Aubergine

"Urp!" Edward, stretched out on the floor of the kitchen, belched as he patted his churning stomach. Having tasted a bit of everything in the food storage locker, he had decided that Terran food was, in some cases, quite tasty but in order cases, quite misleading. Take for example a box that had been labeled Mac n Cheese. While the container would have one believe that it was moist and tender, the actual product itself was rather crunchy with an orange powdered substance that tasted mostly synthetic... and was probably the primary cause for the Burly Catican Shock Trooper's upset stomach. He would realize later, after a brief explanation from Irina, that unlike Catican food, Terran food needed to be prepared but how should he have known. Caticans generally tended to eat simple foods such as dried meats with the occasional vegetable, not corn, corn byproduct, corn syrup, corn cob mixed with corn starch.

On the other hand, he did enjoy something called sushi and another thing called lasagna.


The Orion Files | Mother Ship: Sweet Child of Mine | Showers
The Great Prank War of 2815: Preparation Phase II (cont.)
Irina Rostikova

For most of the conversation between Mary and Mar (The Sisters who were definitely, DEFINITELY from different Misters), Irina remained rather quiet, especially in light of the fact that Grace had ninja'd her way into the shower area. As she scrubbed the paint from her skin and fur, the Catican Merchant Mechanic felt the fog and confusion that had clouded her thoughts melt away and leave in its wake the realization that it was not coincidence that Grace just happened to be innocently visiting the Redeemer before it was vandalized, Grace was, in fact, the vandal. This epiphany did not bring with it tidings of comfort nor joy but instead deposited a fat steaming log of both anger and a sense of violation. Lathering up some shampoo in her hair, the Revenge Minded Rat Catcher avoided making eye contact with the Archer's Vandalizing Vixen. It was fairly obvious to the Not-so-Practiced Pilot why Grace had acted in such a way, since she had almost been left behind when Irina had destroyed Airlock #1 when she'd attempted to dock with the Sweet Child of Mine. Admittedly there were circumstances that should have mitigated any anger felt by Grace, such as the fact that the Drone Wrangler needed to dock in order to protect the Sweetie from the swath of incoming fighters and the corvette... so the Grace's Grand Payback seemed a little harsh from the Rostikovian perspective especially when a simple sit down would have been sufficient. So the whys regarding the Grace's actions were fairly settled in the Irina's mind, leaving one question unanswered:

"(What am I going to do about this?)" Irina wondered to herself as she stepped into the steaming stream of water, rinsing the bubbling subs from her hair, down her body and into the drain. Most of the ideas in the Vengeance Seeking Ship's Mechanic and Merchant revolved around dismantling or disabling parts of the Archer but that would have been rather hazardous given that the member of Orion Company were likely to see combat in the near future. Jeopardizing the Archer's functionality would have indirectly jeopardized the safety of her fellow crew. Of course, given the fact that they were probably going to have to travel with one eye planted firmly ahead of them while the other looked behind them, it would not help matters if Irina participated in some sort of escalating drama with half the crew of the Archer. Feeling a certain amount of stress melting off of her shoulders with this decision, the Pink Haired Catican tuned back in to the conversation between the M sisters.

"The actual hardware is pretty new. Few months before things went to shit for me, Cap'n caught wind of a Grandy R&D 'blacksite' outside their borders. Place was trying to be ultra-low profile, hiding in a nothing system; but we knew where to look. Pounced and blew the hangers before any fighters could launch, boarding parties only hit armed science types...target practice really...so we stripped the place. I took this kit as my cut." Mary said, explaining how she'd gotten her hands on her... hand.

"If you're interested, Mary, I know of a few cloning cooperatives on the outskirts of the Hegemony that would probably be able to vat grow you a new arm and leg for you... for a price." Irina mentioned as she shut off the water and headed into the changing area to dry off. It was those few moments after a shower that the mostly fur free feline featured female was rather glad that her body had been spliced the way it had, otherwise she'd have needed to spend the next hour in the showers drying off and even then she'd be damp for a good while longer. Wrapping a towel around her body, the former art canvas for the crew of the Archer grabbed her wet and ruined clothing, depositing it into a waste receptacle before looking through the lockers for a clean jump suit... and one that would cover up body part that Irina wasn't so glad had been spliced into her genetic makeup, the body part that her former master had thought would assist in making better business deals with male clients. Opening another locker, the Greater than C Cup Catican noted that she'd opened a locker containing Grace's clothing, her unruined and unpainted clothing.

"Mrrrrh" The Merchant/Mechanic grumbled, about to close the locker when a thought occurred to her. Pulling the clothing from the locker, Irina set the items across her lap, with the thought that a few minor alterations to Grace's clothes wouldn't be of any harm, especially since her Paint Happy Princess had ruined Irina's clothing.

Running a sharpened claw along the seams of Grace's clothing, Irina began to cut away large patches of fabric, tossing them in the waste receptacle as she did, taking great care to do so as inconspicuously as possible since Grace was just a few meters away, her view blocked by stippled glass. Of course, since the majority of the alteration job was the removal of the majority of the fabric, including arms, legs, crotch and back, the task was completed in no time. Holding the crudely altered piece up to the light, Irina nodded, satisfied that it resembled the old vintage Terran clothing piece known as a Virgin Killer before placing it back in Grace's locker, but not before tossing the woman's undergarments in the garbage as well... and placing all but the one jumpsuit that Irina would be wearing into the dirty laundry chute.

"So what are you all planning on doing once we get to Tortuga?" The Grinning Catican Merchant and Amateur Seamstress asked her companions as she stepped into her borrowed jumpsuit, pulling the zipper up as far as it would go, "I was thinking that I could sell off some of the stuff we got from Chronus. We'll probably need the credits to get some information on the location of the Escrow Agent... who ... ummm... coincidentally happens to be one of my vat sister..." Irina said, allowing the words trail off, unsure if being related to someone who potentially ripped the crew off was necessarily a good thing to admit.


The Orion Files | Mother Ship: Sweet Child of Mine | Pitt's Workshop
Queries of Self...
SARA-00735

~Sigh~

From the perspective of ship's prisoner, the failure of the two mechanical crew members to heed the warning of SARA-00735 was rather illogical... wasn't it? From their perspective, SARA was an enemy entity not to be trusted however the potential of a bomb being installed within her armor was a fairly significant threat. While it was true that SARA-00735 could have been lying about the bomb itself, it should have been assumed that she was telling the truth regarding the threat. If they held this assumption, then it would have been logical for the mechanical units to leave, especially if the nature of the explosive trigger was unknown. While one could have ruled out something as simplistic as a fuse driven detonation trigger, it could have been as simple as a communication pulse. Then again, since this was not exactly a standard military unit, standard precautions might have been thrown out the airlock... which could have been another possible fate for SARA were they of the mindset that SARA had no value to them. Of course, were they under that assumption that she assumed that she would be executed after her usefulness had come to an end, it was fair of them to think that her professing that there was an explosive device hidden on her personage was just a ploy to prolong her life.

"We don't know fully the model or what they could have done to it. We should at least look it up and we might get a hit on how to do what we need to do. And on another note..I don't believe we should trust the capture, 'ready to die for my cause', soldier on her word alone..." The human known as Pitt said to the others as he commenced a scan of her armor.

"The 'capture,' can hear what you are saying, you rude little man." SARA stated sounding a bit irritated partially by the man and partially by the set of circumstances she found herself in, "The 'capture' is wearing a modified set of Black Water Model #RA-234889 armor with an added stealth and recon package AS WELL AS a self destruct package. The 'capture' has been cooperative with your group despite being beaten by one of your members AND is fairly convinced that she should have remained silent and allowed the explosive device to rip a hole in this ship's hull. Further more..."

The Reconnaissance unit stopped and closed her mouth, surprised at both the words she had spoken and the words that she was about to say... had she not caught herself... that these humans were the as deserving for her loyalty as the ones that she served. Other units in her group had voiced such concerns and been deemed defective by her masters before being sent for rebuilding and reprogramming. Glancing at the one known as Pitt, she started talking once more, though with the more measured and neutral tone that she'd been programmed to use.

"Continue, please. It is understandable you question my words, however I should explain my motives. Having been programmed with a heightened sense of curiosity regarding unknown details, I am not spared from wondering what lays underneath my armor, since I have no recent memory of not wearing it and I am curious to observe the state of my chassis." She stated before adding, "While some of your crew question my existence as an artificial being, they are not the first... I should like to see if they are correct."

<<< Mar >>>
Sweet Child of Mine | En-Route to Tortuga Drift | Communal Showers
"You know the drying tube is more efficient, right?"

As Mary told the tale of how she lost her arm, the tall Shree female turned to her with her true-arms crossed over her barrel chest and her false-hands placed on her hips. Since it ultimately boiled down to her being drunken collateral damage after one of her friends pissed off someone else who was equally drunk, she could only shake her head incredulously. When she finished by saying that her current arm was stolen from a TGR R&D facility, she huffed softly.

"That story makes me sad." Mar said with a wry smirk before ducking her head back under the scalding spray of water.

After one last, quick scrub to clean off the silvery cream she had put on, she strode over to one of the drying tubes that the others either hadn't noticed or ignored in favor of towels. It only took a few minutes before she stepped out, not a drop of water left on her.

But oddly enough, she looked subtly different. Before, her skin was a pretty uniform dark gray, but now her face, scalp and upper shoulders looked more luminous and had noticeable dark ripples. When she made her way into the locker room with toiletry bag in hand, Irina had just finished tossing her ruined clothes into a garbage chute and was beginning to get dressed.

"So what are you all planning on doing once we get to Tortuga? I was thinking that I could sell off some of the stuff we got from Chronus. We'll probably need the credits to get some information on the location of the Escrow Agent... who ... ummm... coincidentally happens to be one of my vat sister..."

Reaching over to her own things, Mar snatched up her translator before securing it around her throat and said, "Probably checking out the club scene, as well as pick up a few personal items. There's no way that I'm selling anything I got from Chronus though."

She took a moment to bend down and begin getting dressed herself before she continued, saying, "So, what kind of a person is your sister, anyway, Irina? I'm assuming that she had no idea you were involved."

"Call it an occupational hazard." Mary said with a laugh, replying to Mar's smirk. Her hair dry enough, she collected her sodden flightsuit from where she'd dropped it, and was about to go get dessed herself, when Irina re-appeared.

"So what are you all planning on doing once we get to Tortuga? I was thinking that I could sell off some of the stuff we got from Chronus. We'll probably need the credits to get some information on the location of the Escrow Agent... who ... ummm... coincidentally happens to be one of my vat sister..."

"I'm hitting a weapons dealer as soon as I can." She replied. "Unlike some people, I was smart enough to loot those Corp bastards for as much as I could get away with." She added, sticking her tongue out at Mar. "Between a shuttle load on small arms, 'Stumpy' and 'Misha', I stand to make some good credits; maybe see about some accessories for my new ship. That and see if I can get into my old ship's accounts. Since I'm pretty sure I'm the last senior officer left, access should default to me...assuming somebody hasn't figured out a way to loot the accounts themselves."

Stepping into the locker area, she discarded her towel and flightsuit into a wet pile while she pulled on a dry set of overalls, and added some underwear this time. Using her left hand to try and tame her still damp hair, she returned to the others. "Oh, Kitty...um, thanks for the offer about the arm and stuff, but by now if I got new limbs grown for me, I'd probably just end up hurting myself when I forgot that I'm all squishy again. Plus," She added, wiggling a foot. "If I kick a man with these, he stays kicked!"

Walker

Walker watched as the crew talk among themselves. Not wanting to disturb what was going on as they were dealing with a damn bomb. Walker really, really, REALLY didn't want to risk it but they need this girl alive to get answers out of her. If not, then there was no way they could have a bargaining chip to get them out of the trouble he knew they will be in. How deep the shit hole will be he was sure they will find out soon enough.

Though he did find it odd in how this prisoner was acting, but not enough to truly care. They were enemies and once she was useless, one of the crew would want to surely kill her off so she can't warn her fellow soldiers. Who would want to do the killing would probably be Mary out of them all. At least, she will be the one who really wanted to do it. She was way too hot headed and seem to anger too easily. Not that he could blame her since he knew what kind of family she came from. While he was also a Marine boy, he didn't have a..family to go back too. She did and it was one of the few that have high expectation from the TGR. Shaking his head a bit as he looked at the others crew members.

"You're a guy after my own heart, Pitt. The unknowns will have almost certainly put in a boobytrap failsafe under such circumstances. The only reason we have to believe our prisoner is that she is still here when exploding right now would doubtlessly put us all in a very bad position."

Walker chuckles a bit and said, "heh..Pitt is extremely paranoid. Sometimes a bit too paranoid..." Walker looks at Pitt, knowing how far he will go sometimes to either prove a point or to check something out. Though that save their asses sometimes when Pitt went overboard, or hurt some job opportunities due to him making a scene in front of clients.

Pitt

Pitt gave a thumbs up and a middle finger to Walker as they chatted. Over hearing them as he double check what armor the prisoner was using. Until it seem that Pitt got under SARA skin and she had a small outburst.

"The 'capture,' can hear what you are saying, you rude little man." SARA stated sounding a bit irritated partially by the man and partially by the set of circumstances she found herself in, "The 'capture' is wearing a modified set of Black Water Model #RA-234889 armor with an added stealth and recon package AS WELL AS a self destruct package. The 'capture' has been cooperative with your group despite being beaten by one of your members AND is fairly convinced that she should have remained silent and allowed the explosive device to rip a hole in this ship's hull. Further more..."

"Continue, please. It is understandable you question my words, however I should explain my motives. Having been programmed with a heightened sense of curiosity regarding unknown details, I am not spared from wondering what lays underneath my armor, since I have no recent memory of not wearing it and I am curious to observe the state of my chassis." She stated before adding, "While some of your crew question my existence as an artificial being, they are not the first... I should like to see if they are correct."

"Huh..she is correct...This might be a bit tricky...ugh..I will need help from the machiens. At least one of them. Hmmmm" Pitt seem to be thinking of a way to bypass the self-destruction package. 'Hmmm maybe if we overload the machine with a small DDOS attack that will stall the self-destruction program just enough to throw it out the airlock...or perhaps we can have the AI disable it and then pull her out..' Pitt goes into his thinking mode. Talking outloud to himself as he sits in his chair. Spinning a bit as he thinks.

No, Grace wouldn't believe that, Mary. She also wasn't entirely sure that it was a particularly funny joke either, but refrained from comment as the shower room's curiosity got the true answer out of her. The white-haired woman actually arched an eyebrow at Mary's proclamation of innocence in the gambling affair. Apparently, this all happened at the station they were likely to be headed to, though years ago. A bar battle had broken out and it seemed that Mary had been caught in he middle of it, unpleasantly. It was likely enough to be the honest truth, not that Grace had any intention of verifying it. 'I got my arm blown off in a pirate bar' was as good an explanation as any, as far as she was concerned.

Because she had actually been listening to the conversation while Irina was oh-so-subtly altering her clothing. Once she was done and drying off, she went to find her clothing and...well...found them. This put a frown on Grace's face. What you would expect was proper anger, but after what she'd been through in her life, Grace wasn't exactly sure if proper anger was possible for her anymore. Whatever irritation she had, it was internalized, a mental thing. She didn't give any real reaction to it, except to toss the ruined clothing away. Irina was lucky that had been only casual clothing, not her stealth suit, her combat-wear. If it had been, that would be grounds for execution.

As it stood, Grace found this retaliation annoying. Irina deserved her punishment for breaking the Sweet Child at a critical moment in battle. No amount of negotiation was going to erase that. If Grace wanted her to be punished, she was going to be punished, goddammit. So saying, the white-haired stealther vanished. She'd get her clothing aboard the Archer. They had yet to understand her abilities, so they would not get a chance to embarass her. Of course, this took a few minutes, during which time she began to think on some new devilry. It should work. The Sweet Child did not have particularly strong software. Oh, the ship wouldn't suffer any, but after a bit of hacking, there would be one minor alteration...

In order for Irina to open any door, she was going to have to yodel, and disabling the program would send a recording - from her implant - of Irina showering...to ED.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Yes, Pitt was a paranoid, but he was their paranoid, and his heart - and brain - was in the right place. He suspected in a manner that would keep them all nice and healthy, at least in Elliot's view. Really, he had nothing to give right here, apart from observations and conversation, and of course the attention of his weapon on the often-offended captive. She seemed to get very testy abou being referred to in the manner suitable for her situation. They weren't making fun of her, though. They were understanably peeved at the fact that she and her colleagues had - regardless of brainwashing or not - made their mission go 'tits up'. Elliot was angry himself, really. If not for them, he and his lovely explosives could have made damn-sure that a double-cross was triple-crossed in their favor. So, sadly, Sara here wasn't gonna get much respect. Now, Pitt mentioned getting some hacking done.

"Well, it seems to me that Shanoa's capabilities would be up to the task, considering the skill she demonstrated in the field."

<<< Mar >>>
Sweet Child of Mine | En-Route to Tortuga Drift | Communal Showers
"Hope they got something out of her. I got shot for all that trouble after all."

It took longer than it should have for Mar to get dressed. Her wounds were far from healed, although thanks to the local anesthetic that the Med-Doc had sprayed on them, along with the wound-sealant, made it so that they were simply incredibly sore and tender. That made contorting into a pair of surprisingly simple Terran-style jeans, and pulling on a leather jacket suitable for a four-armed Shree more than a little difficult.

But difficulties aside, she straightened out once she had shrugged into the jacket. Like the jeans, it seemed like it was originally meant for a Terran to wear. It was made of a brown synth-leather with some sort of tan fluff lining the inside, as well as around the collar, and emblazoned on the back was the logo of her ship, the Devil-Fish. It was also clearly well-worn due to various scuffs and subtle stains.

She stepped around the middle-row of lockers to come up behind the freshly-dressed Mary and placed a true-hand on her shoulder.

"What do you say we check on our catch? Maybe the others have gotten something useful out of her." she said with a wry smile, "After all, considering the trouble we went through to get her..."

She started to make her way out of the locker room before she paused and looked around. While she could see Mary and Irina, Grace was nowhere to be found. She thought that she would have at least seen her getting dressed and ready, but apparently she was quicker than the rest of them.

Velka acknowledged the Captain's presence with a quick salute before turning back to hear the conversation that Pitt was having with SARA, in particular about the type of armour that she was equipped with. Searching through her databanks, she came across an entry for the Black Water line of armours; according to this, it was primarily used by mercenary groups and a small number of private security firms, though given the modified nature of SARA's armour, finding a trace would probably be highly difficult.

"Huh..she is correct...This might be a bit tricky...ugh...I will need help from the machines. At least one of them. Hmm," Pitt said before going to sit down at the chair he was at when the group initially arrived, as he thought allowed ways of deactivating the armour.

"Well, it seems to me that Shanoa's capabilities would be up to the task, considering the skill she demonstrated in the field." Commented Elliot.

"Indeed, Miss Shanoa's cyber-warfare capabilities are more precise than mine; whilst I could attempt it, statistically, we would have a greater chance of success with Shanoa," Velka remarked as she gave her two credits on the matter. She then conveyed a quick message to Walker.

Suggestions on what to do with SARA once the situation has been defused?

Mary had turned to gather up her wet things, when she realized Grace had managed to vanish as silently as she's appeared. "Too quiet for her own damn good..." She muttered with a soft chuckle.

"What do you say we check on our catch? Maybe the others have gotten something useful out of her. After all, considering the trouble we went through to get her..."

She turn to look at Mar as the four armed alien spoke, and made a bit of a face. "That one is almost certainly not worth all the effort," Mary sniffed. "And I doubt that lot could successfully interrogate a small child...they were going to let the prisoner deeper into the ship while still in her armour." She added with a disgusted shake of her head. "But you're right 'Shiny' we probably should go see if they've managed any more fuck up."

Towel and flight-suit tucked under an arm she headed for the door, stopping at the last second to turn back towards Irina. "Hey 'Pinky', I think you missed a spot." She called out with a grin, before moving off down the corridor.

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