Sonne stood at the docks holding a folder. Two ships before him, one cobalt, the other crimson red. Many robed members of The Order scurried about, moving supplies and munitions onto the blue ship, while the sparks of welding torches could be seen from the red ship. He looked at his former home, it was called The Red Fury. It was a powerful ship, multiple massive turrets housing triple barreled gatling cannons, large 40mm anti aircraft guns lining its decks. He sighed. The Red Fury was hurt, he could hear its groans of pain even from the docks. Massive gauges could be seen in the hull of the ship, made by equally as large claws. Scorch marks from perhaps fire dotted the ship, and specks where acid tried to melt away the armor could be seen as well. She was a powerful ship, who had fought against even more powerful foes.

Sonne checked his watch. The good Captain was to arrive soon, as well as the last few members of the crew. He looked over to his new home, it was named Tychon. The Cobalt Trireme. It was as large as The Red Fury, he admired its armament for a moment, although not as much as The Red Fury, it was nothing to scoff at. Sonne could hear the sounds of a festival from the city, they were celebrating the launching of another Armada-Class Exploration Vessel, they were like celebrities. Brave explorers going to the dangerous frontier, facing against creatures nobody has ever seen before. The ship and crew were living legends to the civilians. Toys were made for children, operas and plays for the adults. He chuckled. Perhaps maybe he would go and examine these toys and watch the plays. In his thoughts, he failed to notice an aged man walk towards him, wearing a large black coat.

He cleared his throat, snapping Sonne out of his thoughts.
"Ah." Sonne said, "Lord Gearheart. I leave your vessel for how long, and it ends up how damaged?"
Gearheart was a true living legend. Tales of his exploits were known far and wide in many communities, especially in The Order. A tall man, and despite his age, still strong. He was bald and had a short silver beard, wearing a Captain's cap.
"You can't blame me Sicarus, we encountered a Arexi Hive Tyrant." He replied, "Now, she's going to be in dock for repairs for a while. Lieutenant Colonel Garret requested a transfer to your vessel. And so did two entire Companies. I approved it, now your new Captain has to approve it. Where is he anyways?"
"He will be present soon Captain. I will have to thank Garret, and the two Majors that brought their Companies over." He said. The remaining crew would have to report to him, if the Captain didn't arrive soon.

A boy woke suddenly.

He felt as if he had been sleeping for a long time now. He could feel his joints creaking as he stirred, eyes still heavy, being freshly awoken. He rubbed his eyes, fog slowly clearing, becoming more alert and awake. He blinked as shadows suddenly crossed his vision, soldiers running back and forth, loading cargo onto several ships on the docks; but something wasn't right. After thinking for a few moments, he realized what it was.

Wait, I wasn't here when I went to sleep. He thought, I was... somewhere else?

He looked around him again, trying to spot any landmarks or anything familiar he could use as a guide. It felt familiar, but he had no idea where he was.

I'm sure I didn't go to sleep here... He thought, Where was I?

He closed his eyes, and tried to think back towards the previous night. What had he been doing? Where had he gone?

Suddenly, he felt a harsh pain start to pulsate in his forehead. He instinctively buried his face into the soft bundle of fur in his arms. For some reason, the warmth soothed him, and slowly the pain started to fade. He felt the sound of the creature's breathing, though it was barely audible, fill his mind with a gentle calm...

Wait, what the-?

He looked down at the creature that lay in his arms.

A cat?

He was holding a small white cat who seemed to be sleeping soundly.

Since when was it here?

His mind went to static as he tried in vain to remember anything about the cat, anything about where he was. Why was he holding the cat? Why was he sleeping in a place like this? What clothes was he wearing?

He seemed to be wearing a large brown coat which was far too large for him. It was warm, perhaps that was why he had worn it. But the problem was, he had no memory of ever putting it on.

What do I remember?

The boy started trying to sift through his memories, only to find that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't think of anything. He only saw static. He couldn't remember his name, why he was there, what the cat was doing in his arms, but he could feel that he was supposed to know. The cat felt familiar, the more he thought about it, the more he was convinced. He knew the cat, that much was for certain. The coat felt familiar too, and it looked fairly old and somewhat worn. Maybe he'd been using it for some time?

He buried his face into the cat's soft fur again, letting it's soothing presence calm him down.

If remembering isn't getting me anywhere, He thought, Then maybe I should just follow my instincts?

He looked up from his cat, and took yet another look at his surroundings. He saw a huge damaged airship, he couldn't remember if he knew anything about it, but he could feel that it was something standard, not exactly ordinary, but more like something that happened regularly. The ship was rather magnificent, though. It also looked to be extremely heavily armed and armoured.

Casting his gaze elsewhere, he found little of interest, except for a similarly sized airship which was blue instead of red.

For some reason, he could feel the blue airship drawing him, more so than the red one. Maybe he just liked blue things? The more he stared at it, the more he felt that he should be inside the ship.

That's probably my best lead... He thought.

He carefully stood up, taking care not to disturb the white cat in his arms, and proceeded to stretch his legs out a little. As he watched soldiers and robed people go back and forth, he noticed that the majority of them were heading for the blue airship. His instincts told him he should take care not to attract attention, but he sort of felt like he wasn't supposed to be there but it was okay if he was found.

He put the cat into the brown coat, in a way that allowed the cat to stay in the same place without him having to hold it. The brown lump on his chest would probably look suspicious, but a white cat would've drawn more attention. Still, he kept low, walking at an even pace and walking closer to the people preoccupied with what they were doing.

Eventually, he made his way across the docks to the door of one of the massive airship's cargo bays. Sneaking behind a soldier hefting a large box, the vast openness of the docks gave way to a rather spacious cargo hold that was filling up with crates of supplies. He slipped out from behind the soldier as he put down his load and went out of the cargo hold, maybe to grab another box.

He found a small space to sit in with big boxes on many of its sides which would be able to hide him from anyone looking in from the door. He also found a large cloth draped over the boxes which he could use to hide himself in a pinch.

Alright, He thought, cat still sleeping in his lap. Now what?

Well shit.

Craig was in a bit of a straight. About 2 hours ago he wandered into the dry docks(sky docks?) fascinated by the rush and ramble of the porters and mechanics, and was promptly conscripted. He had been working on the red vessel's boilers, which seemed to have been punctured by millions of...bone fragments? Craig had no qualms with this meticulous work, but he was assigned to the blue ship over yonder, and couldn't bring it to himself to tell the foreman otherwise.

His eyes darted to and from his work and his original objective, a mass of people were already boarding the "Tycoon" or some-such, the thought of being left behind or worse... reprimanded, caused him to panic a bit.

Well, first day out of the Forge and I've already balls things up

He looked over to his toolbox; there weren't no tools to fix this mess. His breathing became haggard. The foreman was instructing other mechanics, far too busy to listen to his complaints... plus he was much larger than Craig. He'd try to sneak away if he wasn't already convinced he wouldn't knock over a set of crates and bring immediate attention to himself.

Please, please, someone... anyone.

The foreman suddenly started to head in his direction, making him recede back to his work.

Fortunately(or unfortunately), the foreman passed by quickly to attend to some porters.

Oh god, please.

Vanius walked towards the docks, the backpack he had been given chaffing his shoulders. The city was exploding with activity, which only distracted Vanius more. The docks were even more crowded than the street he just came from, making Vanius nervous and panicked. After breaking through the crowd he managed to get a break, and sat at a small park bench for a few minutes.

He took out a long, dark brown cigar and ran it under his nose before lighting it. "This may be the last cigar I ever enjoy" he thought before taking a deep puff. He sincerely doubted they'd let him smoke on the ship, and he might die on the ground before he got another smoke break. The duffle bag he'd been given had been making Vanius' shoulders ache, and he wanted to just leave it sitting on the ground. Maybe leave everything on the ground and just run back to his Tribe. Put the whole damn world behind him and go back to a simple life.

He laughed and shook the thought out of his head.

A man hurried through the crowd that surrounded the Tychon, the Order's newest airship. He was only twenty eight but despite his relative youth his hair was white and he had a way of walking with his head down in an incredibly hurry that often led people to believe he was a much older man. His skin was sort of papery and it was clear that he paid more attention to his work than his appearance. He carried a number of papers in his arms and a brown leather pack on his back. He was headed for the loading platform of the Tychon. His name was Armadaus McConally, he was a scholar of the Order of Progress and the handler of the Valkyrie, Avelina Callaghan. Armadaus spotted two men near the airship that he recognized.

"Lord Gearheart, Master Sonne!" Armadaus shouted over the crowd. "Are either of you privy to the location of the Tychon's Captain?" he said looking at the two men eagerly. "He must sign these before the airship leaves." Armadaus said motioning to some of the papers he held clutched to his chest. "Avelina Callaghan, one of the Orders assets has been assigned to this ship. I require that the Captain take responsibility for her before I can retire." Armadaus' eyes widened as he looked into the sky. "Speak of the devil." he murmured looking up into the air were a winged blob was gradually getting larger. "She's here."

Avelina was looking forward to this particular mission. The Shatter Zone had intrigued her ever since her unplanned trip into it's outer edges. She's been experimented upon by an unknown party and only barely escaped. The nature of that experiment had left Avelina with metal wings twelve feet across wired into her back. They functioned perfectly allowing her to soar through the air just as she was doing now.

Despite the constant painful ache that ran across Avelina's shoulder bones every time she took to the skies it was still her favorite way to travel. There was very little she'd ever experienced that compared to the thrill of shooting through the air at fifty miles an hour. Avelina dove downwards at an extreme angle, her stomach dropping off somewhere over the ocean before she pulled of sharply hovering in middle. While I say hovering Avelina was actually drifting up and down at regular intervals keeping her in relatively the same position.

Her augmented eyes spotted her handler Armadaus talking with two men on the port. Armadaus had been eager to study the Valkyrie Wings and how they functioned in conjunction with Avelina's neural implants ever since she'd been taken in by the Order. He'd been very interested in the technical aspect of her abilities and had spend hours calculating vectors, and velocities, telling her how much she had to slow down to avoid breaking her legs on landings and the safest altitude she could attain without using a special breather he'd designed for her. Avelina had preferred to just wing it so to say.

She did what felt right for the wings rather than trying to make sense of the calculations that covered every surface in Armadaus' study. Smiling slightly Avelina arched her wings diving down towards the peer. She came very close showering a number of people including her handler and his friends with a gust of winds before she turned in midair and bent her legs, she spun reversing her momentum. Avenlina curled her wings over her shoulders and out over her head causing them to lose velocity. She landed with grace in a crouch in front of the three men and straightened with a smile, her wings folded themselves up and slipped through the slits sown into her flight jacket, a substance called Velcro sealed the slits after her wings had come to rest against her back. The Valkyrie Wings in many ways were not a blessing but as long she had them Avelina couldn't help but show off just a little. "You miss me Doc?" She said cocking her head to the side like a bird with a flirtatious smile on her face. "Who are your friends?" She gave an exaggerated curtsy to the two officers. "Boys." she said inclining her head.

"Out of the way, out of the way!" Barsad shouted at the throngs of people milling about the Port Titanicus docks, who, though quick to vacate the path of the train of laborers carting his laboratory equipment to his quarters aboard the Tychon, could not move fast enough for his liking.

"Who dares impede the progress of science?!" He gesticulated wildly at an old woman crossing the procession, nearly bent double beneath the weight of a basket of salt fish on her back. "You! Decrepit crone! Get thee gone!"

Barely taking notice of her baleful glare, Barsad eyed the dirigibles resting serenely on the docks, like leviathans dreaming of flight. His mouth twisted in distaste at the multitudinous numbers of the robed members of the Order of Progress. Stuffy, officious fools, too enamored of their own traditions and hierarchy to ever fully give themselves over to their professed calling. Science, Sir Nero knew, demanded sacrifice and an empty heart, not fetishistic affectations and self-inflating titles. Watching them wield their Shatterzone gear like an adolescent wearing his father's armor, he was reminded, and not for the first time, of a tribe of nomadic humans he had encountered in the Pikelands during the first years of his journeys. Having separated themselves from the rest of society centuries ago, the tribe had devolved into a near-feral state, but still clung to the practices of their ancestors, imitating rituals and ceremonies of which they had no clue, no understanding, beyond the vaporous illusion of comfort in the familiar. He believed that the Order, peacocks preening about with salvaged Shatter Tech, was no different: scavengers who surrounded themselves in the trappings of a lost world, claiming dominion over legacies to which they had no right.

But what they did have was unparalleled access to the Shatterzone, that ancient place of things unremembered, the playground of all imagination and cold cradle of monsters. And Sir Nero Barsad would have to learn to play nicely if he was to have the same.

His spirits picked up slightly when he saw a pair of Setra ascending the Tychon's boarding ramp. In that strange and contemplative species Barsad saw the opportunity for intelligent discourse during the voyage, for he had not been reassured when he saw that most of the crew was comprised of humans: dull, squishy, and terribly predictable, with nary a tentacle or chitinous exoskeleton or hyper-evolved psionic glands among the lot of them. He had already resigned himself to spending much of the upcoming journey shut up in his ad hoc laboratory, for these humans, slaves to their primal apish genetics, would have little to offer him in the way of mental stimulation.

Nor was he at all encouraged by their youth. Most of the faces of the Tychon's crew were smooth and unlined. He guessed the majority of them to be in their late teens and early twenties, with even the grizzled veterans among them barely approaching the ripe pastures of thirty.

"Children," he muttered to himself, almost giggling in disbelief. "It's a damned children's crusade."

Vapid youth, creatures ruled entirely by instinct and brazen ambition, whose higher functions and capacities could be overridden with the simplest chemical changes. Raw emotion, barely removed from the wild rutting beasts of the field, choking the air with the scent of their sweat and energy and hormones.

Hormones. Ew.

He shuddered slightly in revulsion, then stood up straight and adjusted his white hat and tie. He spotted Sonne, the Senior Agent of the Order assigned to the Tychon, in conversation with his fellows in the Order.

"Let us get this farce over with," he said quietly. He directed the lead stevedore to deliver his equipment aboard, and turned to Sonne and the others, already dreading this simple requisite interaction. But the sooner he announced himself, the sooner he could board the airship and set up his laboratory.

But already others were approaching. Walking towards Sonne with the unmistakeable purpose of a career officer, was the captain, a Faldkrest named ver Niklos. But more interesting was the girl. Gliding in on metal wings as though she were born to them was the damned oddest halfling Barsad had ever seen.

His eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly. Perhaps he had been too harsh in his earlier appraisals.

Sacrifices, he thought. This expedition was to be greater than himself. There could be no room for ego. The birth of science, he knew, came only at the death of the scientist. It would be the hardest lesson he'd have to teach himself yet.

And so, with mad visions of all the creatures hidden in the 'Zone spread upon his operating table, waiting for the smiling edge of his scalpel to bring their horrors into the light, Sir Nero Barsad made his way to Sonne and his new crewmates, doffing his hat to the future and all that was not yet known.

Captain Vossef ver Niklös was not bothered by crowds.

As he strode across the dockyards, the crowds melted out of his path. Between his stern gaze, the confident, almost aggressive arch of his wings, and not least the thick gold braid on his shoulderboards, it was pretty clear that Sef wasn't an individual who could be expected to waste time slowly picking his way around revellers and onlookers. Sef did not like his time to be wasted in any capacity, in fact. A lifetime of military service and his own rigid self discipline made for a very punctual individual.

Therefore, he was more than a little bit annoyed to find himself on the edge of being late for his own airship launch. The day had begun smoothly for the most part - wake before dawn, breakfast, kit up in dress blues, say goodbye to Klothilda - until he reached the dockyards. Then his carefully prepared schedule had been neatly slashed down the middle by a series of minor emergencies involving quartermasters, the port authority, some sort of journalist, the quartermaster again.... Well. On the bright side, it seemed to be over.

A thick sheaf of papers held carefully at his side in one clawed hand, Sef approached a small grouping of gentlemen standing near one of the boarding ramps. Sonne, his senior order agent was there, along with Lord Gearheart and another order representative that Vossef had not been introduced to. He had nearly reached them when a young woman, dwarfed by her wide metal wings, landed with them in a page-fluttering backwash of wind. Sef tightened his grip on his papers. Ah, the Valkyrie. That explains the other Order man.

Another man arrived, not an Order man and not know to Sef, grumbling after one of the stevedores. The captain couldn't really blame him; he had not been particularly pleased with the dockyard staff so far today either. Working with civilians was not on the list of "Things That Make Vossef ver Niklös Happy and Comfortable."

"Good day Lord, gentlemen, and miss," he said in his resonant voice. The captain clicked his heels together and bowed formally. "I am Captain Vossef," he introduced himself. It wasn't necessary - surely his identity was made clear by his decorated uniform - but formalities were important. "I believe we have some business to attend to?"

Eventually the Cigar's flame was snuffed, and Vanius slipped the mostly remaining torpedo into his jacket. The bustle wasn't going to stop and so he knew he had to just make his way through it and get to the Tychus.

"No wait, that's not right" Vanius thought. He gazed at the great airships trying to remember the ships name. "The typhoon? Dammit what is that ships name?"

He'd been preparing for almost 2 months and he'd forgotten the ships bloody name! In a moment of what can only be described as 'temporary madness', Vanius began searching vehemently for his crew pass. His scaly fingers wrapping around the paper and pulling it to his eyes. And like a man dying of thirst reaching an oasis, his eyes soaked up the information on the card until he saw it

Tychon Crew Pass

He hurriedly moved towards the ship, his pack awkwardly shifting between being dragged along the ground and being ever so slightly raised. As Vanius moved to adjust it, he bumped into a human gazing, well gazing isn't quite the word. This man seemed to be hypnotized by whatever he was staring at. It was a human man in an exquisite suit, and he looked old. Old and important. Vanius cursed to himself and meekly apologized, before hurriedly resuming his journey to the entry way of the ship.

Armadaus looked slightly alarmed at Avelina's superfluous and very public entrance. "Avelina, what do you think you are doing?" clearly the older man was attempting a look of disapproval but this was slightly marred by the wheedling tone to his voice, almost as if he were begging her not to run off like that. "You left the residence without telling anyone, and without bringing your bag." He said dropping a brown leather pack onto the peer.

Avelina did not look particularly happy to be chastised in front of strangers for doing something that as far as she was concerned was her right. If she wanted to fly off there wasn't a lot the Order could do to stop her. Avelina muttered the word 'residence' under her breath. The place was effectively a lab where Armadaus was more than content to run simulations and tests on her wings for hours at a time while she just sat there, it might as well have been a prison.

"Thanks Doc," Avelina said her face and voice ever so slightly harder than the light air that had existed in them a moment ago. "and It's Angel." she said in reference to her name.

"Regardless," said Armadaus in an exasperated voice, he was clearly at the end of his tether. Dealing with Avelina's attitude had a way of stretching his normally infinite patience to the limits. Armadaus set his papers down on a crate. "Captain I need you to sign these before 'Angel'" He said the word like it was a bad taste "can board the Tychon. They essentially confirm that you will be taking responsibility for Angel's well being and any harm that comes to her or the shattertech she embodies will be accountable directly to you. Is that clear?" Then without waiting for confirmation. "If you could just sign here, here and here on the line Angel will officially be a part of your crew."

Avelina rolled her eyes. Though it didn't show in her face the comment about the shattertech she embodied had struck a nerve. Of course she'd always known that the only reason the Order of Progress would even look at someone like her was because she had the Valkyrie Wings grafted to her skeletal system but to have it laid out as such hurt just a little more than Avelina was willing to admit. For the last three years she'd not met a soul who'd been able to see past the cybernetic implants and realize there was an actual person in there somewhere.

Looking bored Avelina slung her pack over her shoulder and hoisted herself up onto a crate, crossing her legs and leaning back so her face was to the sky. She stayed like that for a number of minutes before the sound of footsteps encroaching on there group caught her attention. Avelina hopped off the box to get a better look at an older gentleman that was approaching. He seemed to be a member of the Tychon crew but really, he was ancient compared to the others boarding the airship.

Avelina walked closer to Armadaus with a wicked look in her eye. She whispered loud enough for the old man to hear. "Hey Doc, is he crew? Ain't he little old for this kinda work."

Craig was still busying himself upon the boilers of the red vessel, oil and welding burns marring his new robes. His hair at this point was a greased and matted mess, his face moist and oil-stained as he abandoned his Tech-mask long ago in the sweltering atmosphere. The boiler was far from fixed, sections still bisected by inhumanly large slabs of bone-like projectiles, this surprise project was unlikely to be finished before he was listed as absent and left behind. Craig was afraid. Craig was very much afraid.

Afraid of his failure. Afraid he'd come back a day after leaving with nothing. Afraid he'd be stuck doing such menial tasks without a story of his own. And most importantly afraid of the large foreman, screaming at younger engineers.

He rose to wipe a bead of sweat from his brow, turning his head back at the blue vessel expecting it to already be gone. He saw the more of the crew board of which very few stood out. A young man was amusingly seen dodging the crowd and quietly board the ship. Another man was witnessed to plow through a crowd of people, heavy cargo attended by porters closely following behind him; an event probably standard in the busy port city so he thought nothing of it. An older gentleman chatting it up with passing crew, likely a veteran of the ship. A halfling flitting across the sky, landing precariously yet gracefully near the gangplank, nothing out of the ordina-

Craig blinked twice, not quite sure he was seeing correctly, the fumes of the skydock, surely messing with him.

Then it hit him, a halfling was flying! Not by way of the new fangled magics, but some sort of cybernetic implants. Behind the young female was a beautiful mechanical contraption- nay - miracle of engineering. The metal seemed alive, warm and alive, reacting to the stiff cool breeze as natural appendage would. Craig was awestruck, in the Forges the older adepts' extra mechanical arms were feats of their own capable of performing simple tasks and bearing heavy loads, but this... this was whole new level. This device seemed to be capable of advance aeronautical maneuvers judging by the stunt this woman just pulled.

Knowing the Order's firm grip on technological advances the woman surely had a handler, but hadn't of anything such as this. Craig had to know what exactly this was, and Order heads clearly won't tell him anything, his only choice was to investigate directly.

Gathering his luggage left in a near by corner, and ignoring the protests of the foreman behind him as he jaunted towards the blue vessel. However, his journey was impeded, he lost sight of his target over a mass of what seemed to be laboratory equipment. He tried squeezing by, but ran into a man donning a sterile white business suit, with a matching surgical mask and hat. Craig was about to voice his apologies, when he saw that the man was visibly angry and insulted at his transgression.

"Uhh... sorry"

He'd have to burn his suit. That was the only answer. Twice in the span of a few seconds Barsad had been bumped into, first by a Faldkrest warrior who stank of harsh tobacco, and then by a young Order mechanic in grease covered robes.

Despite his title, Sir Nero was not a man given to class and station. He had seen too many so-called nobles and gentlemen make blubbering, lecherous messes of themselves when they were in their cups, or thought themselves in private. Similarly, he knew it was within the capacity of any commoner to rise far above his assigned lot in life. Was he not, after all, the very shining proof of that?

No, it wasn't that these plebeians could deign to assault a baronet with impunity, but that they had turned a previously very fine -- and very expensive -- suit into a grease rag that reeked evilly of cheap cigar smoke.

Barsad turned to the young Order man, raised an accusatory finger in the air, and was prepared to drive it with great force and purpose into the boy's chest, when, rising clear as a bell over the background din of the docks, came a rather indelicate remark about his age from the winged halfling to her Order puppeteer.

He forgot the young man completely. A cold, impassive smile sketched itself onto his face. He stood up straight and turned to the recently arrived captain. A dignified-looking Faldkrest, ver Niklos seemed to be in his middle age, if the grey coloration of his jaw fringe was anything to go by. Then again, Barsad thought, the premature discoloration of scales in younger Faldkrest males was also indicative of a family of diseases in their species that went under the collective colloquialism of "The Creeping Rot" in certain social circles of ill-repute. He briefly considered asking Captain ver Niklos if he had ever enjoyed any leisure time in the district of Port Titanicus charmingly referred to by locals as Reptile Row, but decided that accusing one's captain of whoremongering was likely frowned upon in genteel company, however salaciously scaly the ladies of Bawdy Bettie's Taverne & Ye Olde Rumpus Roome may have been.

Instead, he gave a crisp nod of the head to ver Niklos, and said, "Captain."

He turned to Sonne. "Senior Agent Sonne," he said imperiously, "I am Barsad. You have heard of me, of course. I've little time to waste, so I'll keep this brief. I am here to make your job easier, and to do that I shall be requiring a sterile operating theatre, and whatever files you may have on the creatures we are likely to come across, as well as prioritized access to any biological specimens we acquire."

And finally he turned to the smart-mouthed little halfling.

"And you," he said, leveling a finger at her, "will see me in my laboratory as soon as possible. Those lackwits who grafted Shattertech onto you may have had plenty of toys, but they don't know the first thing about halfling anatomy. They've completely failed to account for your kind's atrophied serratus posterior superior muscle, which I would wager is why you feel incredible pain whenever you utilize those impressive wings of yours, correct? Yes, yes, and of course I'll need to examine whatever lamentable hatchet job they performed on your obturator nerve. Or in terms even you can understand" -- and here he paused to puff out his chest -- "I need to see where your fleshy bits meet your non-fleshy bits."

He tipped his hat to them.

"A pleasure to meet you all," he said, and made his way to the boarding ramp.

Craig... Craig just looked into the eyes of death and survived the accusatory implement that would have tore a hole in his chest. Craig has stared down a microreactor mid meltdown, ripped apart the circuitry of a rampant auto-barber but never in his years had he felt such mortal fear.

The suited man quickly left him to himself in the streets, the adrenaline rush that made him deaf to the world was starting to dissipate making him notice that his original track had disappeared into the ship. Out of his daze he decided he might as well board the ship. He presented his pass to the nearby attendant and was instructed make his way to the engineering and cargo bay to help with pre-flight preparations.

While disappointed he wouldn't get the opportunity to trail his target any further he shambled towards the lower decks. The engineers seemed to have their own quarters in the lower bays but had to head up to the mess hall for their meals.

In time he was tasked with inspecting the cargo, making sure it was tied down and stored properly, and most importantly to make sure the bay doors were operating correctly.

The room was quite dark and musty, the few streaks of light coming from scarce windows and cracks in the walls. Craig made his rounds checking the locking mechanisms in the hoists and the gears of the bay doors. It was generally tedious and meticulous work, but Craig was content.

That is... until he heard a horrifying sound. A grotesque sound that echoed throughout the room: mew.

Craig's eyes went wide, It was soft, barely louder than the distant bustle of the ship but years in the Forge had trained him remain alert for any out of place mechanically. Yet, he had no former knowledge of ships creating this sound, had the hydraulics jammed? Had a circuit board smoldered? Had a steam-pipe leaked?

Craig visibly exhaled, for the sake of his new home he had to find the problem and fix it.

The sound seemed near, if it weren't for his meticulous, nay, obsessive inspection, it would never had been noticed. He turned the corner where he expected to find the fault, but what he saw was to be expected: piles and piles of crates and cargo. Loose bolts of canvas for the inner lining of the ship's envelope swayed a bit as the vessel rocked gently in the breeze. Craig chalked it up to his nerves and was prepared to leave, when he heard a distinct but recognized sound, a soft purr.

Of course, a small opening in the floor boards allowed air in, billowing the canvas bolts. Simple enough to fix, some quick drying tar, a chemical found in any self-respecting ship engineer's kit, will seal it back up.

Craig moved to uncover the bolts, but something else caught his attention...

Noooo... The boy thought desperately, Go awaaay!

He could hear someone shifting sommething in front of him... His cat had mewed in its sleep only a few seconds before, had the guy heard it? It was loud to him, but he was under a canvas. How had the guy heard it?

Somewhere in front of his hiding spot, he heard the clanking of something footsteps coming closer, as his cat released a soft purr. The footsteps stopped suddenly, and now they were heading towards him!

This is it. He thought, trying to make himself as small as possible.

All of a sudden, his cat woke up. It slowly opened its light blue eyes and blinked at him, as if in confusion. Then it shook its head as if trying to wake up, and proceeded to tilt its head sideways slightly with its eyes closed. After a couple of seconds, the cat snapped upright as if it had just gotten an idea, and proceeded to walk out of the canvas the boy was hiding in.

He heard it meow as it started to walk away from his hiding spot, and he could see through a peephole, the cat looking up at... some kind of engineer?

Um... The boy thought, What?

"Lord Gearheart, Master Sonne!" The two heard a voice yell over the bustling crowd, they both looked towards the young man. "Are either of you privy to the location of the Tychon's Captain? He must sign these before the airship leaves." The man asked. Sonne looked to Lord Gearheart, assuming the Captain would know where the other was, unfortunately no. Gearheart shrugged. "Avelina Callaghan, one of the Orders assets has been assigned to this ship. I require that the Captain take responsibility for her before I can retire."
"An asset?" Sonne asked, their predicted path must be very deep into the Shatterzone for The Order to assign this Avelia to the Tychon. "Where is this... Avelina?"

Armadaus mumbled something and then announced that she was here, looking up into the sky. Both Gearheart and Sonne followed Armadaus and looked at the dot in the sky. "She flies?" Gearheart asked nobody in particular. Soon, she landed next to them and greeted her handler, then turned to Sonne and Gearheart, greeting them in a rather informal way. Sonne was rather blank faced. Gearheart laughed heartily, "If I had someone who could fly, my ship would still be out there! You are lucky Sonne!" He exclaimed, punching Sonne lightly in the shoulder. Sonne cleared his throat, "If you ship were out there, the Tychon would still be in drydock, under study. And I would be in a lab." The armored man explained, "You know I don't do well in labs." Sonne stated.
Seconds later, the Captain appeared. Introducing himself, he then said, "I believe we have some business to attend to?"

"Ah, yes. Captain. We are scheduled to leave in two hours, they pushed the original launch time further. However, they did state that if we are ready before then, we have permission to. Also, some of Lord Gearheart's Armsmen requested a transfer to our ship, Lieutenant Colonel Garret and two entire Companies. They are very capable soldiers, I can vouch for their abilities." Sonne explained, he turned to Gearheart, who held out a piece of paper. "Just sign this and my troops are now your troops." The Captain was much larger in person than he had expected. Sonne himself had never really interacted with a Faldkrest so closely before.
He cleared his throat and looked to the Valkyre, "Lady Avelina." He bowed slightly in greeting, "You are not what I expected."

It seemed that the rest of the crew were starting to arrive, Sir Nero Barsad just arrived. After a brief greeting to the Captain, he turned to Sonne. "Senior Agent Sonne," he said, "I am Barsad. You have heard of me, of course. I've little time to waste, so I'll keep this brief. I am here to make your job easier, and to do that I shall be requiring a sterile operating theatre, and whatever files you may have on the creatures we are likely to come across, as well as prioritized access to any biological specimens we acquire."
"Sir Barsad." Sonne bowed in respect. "There is a lab with a sterile section on board the ship, along with a library with copies of all the information The Order has on The Shatterzone. Hopefully you find the lab to be up to your standards. As for specimens, you will have unrestricted access to whatever our Armsmen can capture."

The Order handler for the Valkyrie was the first to address Sef, so he dealt with his request first. Truth be told, he was a little uncomfortable having the creature aboard ship. Actual flight was enviable to a man who had only ever been able to glide, but he didn't trust he shattertech and had a sinking suspicion that it was going to break at some point and he would be help responsible. Nevertheless, he signed and initialled the relevant papers.

"I trust you can find your own way aboard, Miss Angel?" he said, addressing the Order Asset in question. "You are quartered with the mechanical engineers, I believe, if I remember my crew manifest properly. Unless you require an escort?" He turned back to Sonne and Lord Gearheart, clearly dismissing the winged Halfling.

"Ah yes, the troop transfers," he nodded to his fellow - senior - airship captain. This was Vossef's first voyage on anything larger than a frigate. "I appreciate the borrowed manpower, and I am sure the soldiers will appreciate the danger pay."

He signed off on those papers as well, taking his own copies and adding them to the folder he had carried from the quartermasters' office. "If you will excuse me, my Lord?"

Finally, he turned to Sonne, as he began to stride toward the airship's loading ramps. "I would like to get underweigh as quickly as possible; preferably as soon as the crew has all been accounted for." He knew first hand that the cargo was, for the most part, loaded; he had yet to speak to the admin staff that were responsible for signing in the crew members. "Perhaps in the interim, a quick tour of ships facilities?"

The old man Avelina had insulted was very clearly not a pleasant man but Avelina hadn't expected him have his wits about him. He looked old enough to be occupying a home for the elderly who's minds had fled but despite his looks he was smart enough to target the one thing that most others would regard as a source of pride for Avelina which in reality was a very touchy subject, her wings. There was one thing that Avelina knew for certain. There wasn't a circumstance dire enough that would force her to see that man about her wings. No matter how bad the pain became, how she was injured or what the Valkyrie Wings did to Avelina on a physical or psychological level, she would never ever ever allow that man to operate or otherwise perform tests on her. With that settled in her mind Avelina did not even feel the need to consult the captain or her handler about whether she'd be forced to his lab.

The other two gentlemen that Armadaus was talking with, Avelina gathered there names were Sonne and Gearheart, began having a conversation about Avelina's flight capabilities and the impact it would or could have had on there lives. They spoke like she wasn't even there, like she was some sort of flying drone that the Captain controlled. Avelina didn't say anything, after all those that spoke out, those that complained about there circumstances generally ended up in worse ones. When Sonne, clearly looking for a way to avoid the Captain's eye spoke to Avelina he addressed her by her proper title. Avelina's face froze at this for it wasn't a name she liked to hear but the Agent apparently didn't notice as he told her what he thought of her manners. "Well," she said a smile masking her emotions towards this man's own manners. "I ain't often what people are lookin' to see."

After the Captain signed Avelina's papers he began to speak and as he became the center of attention Avelina realized something horrifying. He was Faldkrest. She'd not noticed before simply because when he wasn't talking she'd barely given him a moments thought. But at the prospect of her new handler being one of the dragon men something ruptured inside Avelina. "Doc, you can't be serious, I gotta to work with..." her mind struggled to come up with a word to describe the Captain but only managed to summon up: "...him?" The way she said the word suggested that him was some sort of disgusting thing she'd found on the bottom of her shoe.

He departed not long after and Armadaus turned to the Valkyrie. "Avelina that was most rude."

Avelina rolled her eyes. "What's your point? Now I think the papers your holdin' mean I ain't gotta listen to you anymore. Have a nice life Doc." With that Avelina turned her back on a spluttering Armadaus and boarded the ship.

Avelina was roughly aware of where her room was but that wasn't really where she wanted to be. This place was enormous and Avelina, true to her heritage was curious as a cat. The engine rooms were unfortunately restricted, at least while launch was being prepted so Avelina decided to take a look at some of the cargo holds. They were transporting all kinds of equipment and machinery, some of it manufactured based on Shattertech designs.

Avelina snuck into one of the holds that had already been filled before she started to poke around. Most things were covered with tarps or locked shut but she found a few interesting things. Crates of weapons, shattertech and otherwise. Food supplies and scientific equipment. Avelina took some of it out to examine before a sound caught her attention. It was the sound of footsteps. Avelina stuck the thing she'd been looking at (a shattertech design called a taser) back in it's crate and took to the shadows. However the person was in between her and the holds exit and he didn't seem to be about to leave.

Avelina decided that the best approach she had was to come out of hiding and act like she was supposed to be here. Even accuse him of trespassing if it came down to it. People were so much less likely to throw accusations if they were busy defending themselves from one.

Avelina straighten and walked towards the man with a strong steadfast footfall. From the looks of him, especially the grease stuck to his body he was a mechanic. "You there," she shouted. "You should not be permitted in this area." Then Avelina noticed a white cat purring at his feet. "And pets are strictly prohibited." She accused with a decent facsimile of Armadaus' high class vocabulary. She had absolutely no idea if there truly was a rule against pets but at the moment it didn't really matter.

(Ran out of time)

"A quick tour? Very well." Sonne replied, following his Captain. He turned back to Lord Gearheart and they both said quick farewells. On the way there he thought of where to go, the armory definitely, perhaps the labs. He made a quick plan and as they boarded the ship, he took lead. "Captain, we'll be going to the Engine Block first. The Engine Block on this ship is one of the most advanced in the world, matched only by the other two Armada-Class ships. There are three primary decks, and several secondary decks. The top most primary deck is to house the two maneuvering propeller shafts." Sonne began, while walking to the Engine block he opened up his folder and leaned in towards Captain ver Niklös, making sure he could see the papers inside. Sonne flipped to the schematics of the ship, pointing to the two upper propellers. He then pointed to the middle propeller shaft, which had two black boxes next to it. "The middle shaft is where the ship gets most of its thrust. These two boxes here... It's still classified. We'll have to show you the actual engines." Sonne explained. He closed the folder and after a moment they arrived at the engine block. Sonne opened the hatch door and revealed a massive room. They ended up on the middle deck, which housed the middle propeller. The deck itself was shaped like a fork, with two massive openings in the floor, letting crewmembers see the bottom deck. The top most deck was shaped like a U, with a single large opening, letting crew up there see the middle, and bottom floors. Engineers were about, working maintenance, eating food, playing cards. Sonne walked over to the edge of the deck and looked down at the bottom floor. Most of the bottom floor was covered by machinery and metal panels. One panel was open, revealing a massive turbine. "We call it a jet engine. We only have a rudimentary understanding of it, but we know how to maintain it and fix it. Activating these will give us about 30 more kilometers per hour." Sonne explained, "I'll show you the Reactor room later. We have to get going."

The tour continued, covering the crew quarters, which contained the barracks as well. A quick mention of the armories, cargo and engineering decks, a quick glossing over the medical bay and labs, soon, the both of them ended up on the bridge. Which looked like a typical bridge. "We should be getting underway. The helmsman stands ready, on your order Captain." Sonne said.

Craig bolted upright, the new voice catching him completely by surprise. He dared not turn around fearing to catch some sort of divine punishment if he did so.

"Craig Masters Sir...er...mam! Order Engineer. I...I came here to inspect the mechanisms before we departed. I w...wasn't aware i needed authorization." Craig felt the cat at his feet again causing him to jump, "Uh...uh this...this isn't what it looks like."

He turned around, eyes pleading for mercy, but as he did it quickly turned to an expression of surprise.

"By the Order! Its...its you!" He quickly forgot his present situation as he began to excitedly look-over the winged halfling. He strayed very close to her, any ideas of personal space abandoned. He was swiftly circling her trying to view the wings from every angle.

"Amazing an advance bio-metric peripheral with a viable neural interface made with an alloy both light and durable. Those that worked on this must have been gods! Oh whats this! A gyroscopic stabilizer, and in pristine condition! Do you realize how wonderfully amazing you ar-" Then he looked up from his kneeling position, finally realizing what exactly he has done. The woman was clearly annoyed, the extent of which Craig could not fully understand. Additionally, it was a woman. He just physically accosted and examined someone without their consent.

"Oh...ummm..." He fell back on his ass, visibly shaken, unsure what to do. Try as he might to save face, he failed miserably. Furthermore he had completely forgotten about the cat at this point. "Order Save me, I'm sorry mam, I...I wasn't...I didn't..."

The man seemed rather flustered at being yelled at by what he seemed to presume was a superior office. He spluttered out an explanation about mechanics and the cat which Avelina could honestly care a pile of Fäldkrest dung about. The moment the engineer turned to face Avelina however everything changed.

The cargo hold they occupied was not far from the engine and as such it was rather stifling. Avelina had taken her jacket off and draped it over her arm, a move she regretted now as this curious engineer with no apparent regard for personal space or respect of command came very very close to the Valkyrie, circling her, viewing her wings from every angle. Avelina considered extending one in order to knock this impetuous bastard in the face but in such enclosed quarters she might hit them on something and that was always painful.

More than the way he examined her what really hurt was how he talked about her wings and the people that gave them to her, like they were some sort of gift from the gods, not a hatchet job done by Shatter Zone enthusiasts with only a working knowledge of what they were doing.

A minute later the engineer seemed to realize what he was doing and shrunk away from her, landing on his ass. This wasn't about simply leaving anymore. If Avelina had just wanted that she could easily turn and go now, no this was about teaching this engineer a lesson. Avelina didn't resort to physical intimidation or violence very often but when she did it was most effective.

Avelina took a step forward planting her foot on the engineers chest, pushing him down into the deck. She leaned in close over her knee and removed her aviators making her silver LED eyes clearly viable. She never raised her voice as she began to speak, keeping it nice and even which somehow made it all the more intimidating. "Tell me ensign, what makes you think that my modifications are any of your business? Is this your ship? Do you need to inspect the crew personally?

Or maybe it had nothing to do with my cybernetics at all." This was a tactic that generally through people off. "Constantly covered in grease can't put you in a good position to find a woman." At this point Avelina shifted her figure so that her breasts were just a little more visible to the engineer. "Honestly though, no one wants someone that direct. Why don't you tell me your name. After all the captian's going to want to hear about this."