"Final preparations are being made, boss." The portly navigation officer, Matthiew "Matty" Grissom, spoke to Renault. An old time friend, Matty had accompanied the captain on many a voyage, delving into deep ruins of the old world and fighting off the most vicious of pirates to assail them. Grissom may weigh a little under three hundred pounds and tends to enjoy that one extra leg of mutton at dinner, but there are few that are as deadly with dueling pistols as he. Wearing a dark blue pinstripe suit and sporting a slicked back, black, head of hair above a broom of a mustache and his dark brown eyes, Grissom was no stranger to fashion. Renault counts him as one of his closest friends.

"Excellently done, my portly friend." The captain said as he stood from his desk. He had been working on a table-mounted holographic projector that had navigational charts on it. He was planning their next route, which was to the island of Tirbetha, a pirate complex. He whistled and Asphexia looked up from it's perch across the room. It hopped into the air and flapped it's metallic wings, the propellers inside spinning up and giving him flight to reach Renault's shoulder.

"Bah, just a few extra pounds on my bones, I swear." Grissom chuckled. "The crew is awaiting your orders sir."

"Then lets not keep them waiting, shall we?" Renault turned toward the door leading out of the ship and opened it, stepping out onto the balcony that hung above the extravagant cafeteria below. Big enough to seat forty people, each east on the many benches and tables were packed with crew. Grissom came up to the railing and showed everybody just how loud he can be. "AAAAATEEEENSHUUUN CREWWW! CAAAAAAPTAIIIN ON DECK!"

With many plates and foods flying at a few places in the tables, the crew in the cafeteria stood up and saluted. There were plenty that took their dear sweet time with it and others that ignored the fact that they had coffee all over their laps. "Welcome to the Crimson Dusicyon, crew!" The Captain yelled. "Now that you are all here, I will tell you the three rules of my ship. One: Take care of each other, you're all you've got! Two: My orders are law! I will not tell you to change who you are or how you operate, but cross me and I'll toss you off the side of the ship! And Three: Enjoy what time you have alive! You might lose it when you least expect it! Now rest up, get what you need from Havanah, and sleep well, for in the morning we are taking off to the pirate haven of Tirbetha. As some of you may have guessed, we have no home base. We're going to solve this dilemma. As ease! The captain nodded as the entire crew lowered their salute and sat back down to eat."I think this crew is going to do well. What do you think, Grissom?"

"I agree, boss. Some are wet behind the ears, but a little live fire training 'ought to teach them what end of the gun fires the explody material. Plus, if that doesn't work, I'm sure that GeneralFaulkner will kick them in the shins and genitals until they get it through their heads...don't worry. Doctor Bishop will patch them up like new...a few might need new bulk heads though."

"We have to give Teddy and his entourage something to do every now and then, right?" The captain said with a chuckle before he turned back to his quarters and went back to mapping routes and planning their attack while Grissom went down stairs to get his fair share of most of the food.

_______

"Tirbetha...?" Cyrus thought to himself as he sat back down, looking up to the captain out of the corner of his eye. "Place is a mad house..." he grumbled. "Lots of psychos and mass murderers. Renault better know what he's doing or he's going to get us all killed." He shook his head and dug back into his mashed potatoes and lobster. "Gotta say, the cooks know how to make a damn good meal, they need to learn how to construct better drinks though. Their booze sucks...wait, this is water. Still not Cabernet Sauvignon." Cyrus had been pleasantly surprised by the quality of everything here on the ship, minus the lack of the most expensive wine in the Turquoise expanse. It was almost high class, but the captain made sure that everybody knew that this was no pleasure voyage. The best that he could get from him was that the captain made sure that his people were taken care of. Like a family almost, but not quite. Still a lot better than the rest of his family.

However, he did have that itch in the back of the skull. That premonition that everything was about to go horribly wrong. It itched at his skull like a knife, but he ignored it for the most part. He was too busy enjoying the food. It was really nice food, plus, the cute girl that controlled the artillery of the ship across from him was...well, cute. When she looked up, he gave her a wink.

~Doctor Cassandra Bishop~
This Morning
Cassandra's eyes fluttered open to reveal the metallic roof of her small room. She yawned rather loudly, pushing herself up into a sitting position on her bed before stretching her arms. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she slid sideways so that her feet touched the cold metallic floor. Being the head doctor on the ship had its advantages. Primarily a room to her own, albeit small, but it was enough to make Cassandra feel at home. The walls were littered with various half ripped posters of the former occupant. She really had to decorate the place more in the future. Currently all she'd added was a potted plant, a canvas print and her cat's food and water bowls.

Speaking of her cat, Ruby was currently toying with a small ball filled with catnip on Cassandra's desk. She grinned as she watched the small kitten for a while, before rising from her bed and stretching once again. She made her way to the bathroom where she had a quick shower before returning to her room and getting changed. She pulled her blinds open first, checking the weather to see what clothing would be appropriate. It was quite sunny today and so she opted for a mauve dress. Of course, her lab coat went on over said dress, but it wasn't thick enough to add any amount of substantial heat anyway. She made her way to the lab to no doubt see some young recruit who Faulkner had undoubtedly pushed too hard.

Present Time

Cassandra toyed with the food on her plate as she half listened to Cyrus tell some tale of grandeur no doubt. To be honest her mind was elsewhere. She couldn't pinpoint what it was, but she just had a gut feeling that something was going to go wrong. But then again, she was a bit of a pessimist. Her head shot left like a bullet as the captain's presence was announced. She laid her fork down on her plate, brushed herself off and stood, saluting to the captain. She never really understood why they saluted Renault. Not to say she didn't respect him, it just seemed kind of ironic to do something as militaristic as saluting when you're doing it towards a pirate. Cassandra had always thought that it was Faulkner that had swayed Renault into doing it, but she had never really cared enough to ask either of the two.

As it turns out, the crew of the Crimson Dusicyon were actually getting some sort of homebase. Cassandra only hoped it was somewhere sunny, where she could go on holiday for a while without being called back to the ship too quickly because Faulkner 'Just had to throw the boy off the ship for being too dumb'. She picked up her fork again, stabbing a small portion of the lobster that she had cut up before raising it to her mouth and eating it. Cyrus was right, it was delicious. She suspected that Cyrus was drunk from the way he mistook water for an alcohol, but it was often hard to tell with the man.
"Could just be really non-alcoholic vodka" She grinned.
"Besides, you're not one to talk about alcohol being mostly water, Cyrus!" She joked.

---

~General Richard Faulkner~
This Morning
The new recruits quarters were silent as the sun barely peeked its head out from over the horizon to begin the new day. A normal person would have slept for at least another 2 hours or so. But under Faulkner's regime you got up early and you went to bed early. Heavy boots thumped along the wooden floor and a trumpet sounded as Faulkner made his way up and down the quarters. The new recruits were startled to say the least. They had been warned about Faulkner but, they had never expected him to be wearing full military garb, with a revolver strapped to his thigh and a trumpet in one hand.
"Rise and shine maggots, a day slept in is a day wasted and a day under my regime is never wasted!" He shouted, his voice booming and echoing within the room. The recruits stood, lined up in rows awaiting orders. Faulkner grinned, new recruits were always a delight to him. His walk was slow and decisive. He scanned each and every recruit, before selecting a rather scrawny, skinny looking fellow and marching straight over to him. Thus began the slew of insults and expectations that Faulkner spouted out every year.

A few hours later and the deck of the Crimson Dusicyon was practically spotless and shining. The first job for every new batch of recruits was, of course, scrubbing the deck clean. Faulkner often said it built character, but it was more of a chance for him to insult them more. Surprisingly though, there was a big lack of any physical punishment being handed out. Faulkner seemed to be more than happy with his insults to ruin them with a punch. He grinned, holding his fist to his heart as he strode up and down the deck, admiring 'his' work.

Present Time
Faulkner stared down at the mighty steak that lay in front of him. He always loved dinner. Say what you will about pirates, but they always got high quality food. Much better than the shit they gave you in the core, hard to tell if that was meat or something pulled out of an exhaust pipe. He grabbed his steak knife and cut into the steak, he was overjoyed to see it was exceptionally rare, to the point where some blood could still be seen within the meat. Some would have said Faulkner was a sick man, others a man of fine taste. He picked the piece of steak he had cut up with his fork and was about to bite down on the delectable slice he had cut when the familiar sound of the captain coming on board echoed throughout the hall.

Faulkner quickly dropped his fork, standing to attention and saluting. He quickly sat down after the speech was given. A homebase for the crew? To Faulkner that could only mean one thing. A place to train recruits without the restrictions of the ship. He was practically day dreaming about the possibilities when the smell of his steak rose to his nose. He returned to it, feasting like a true gent.

A quartet of fingers drummed on the smoothed wood table, accompanied by the dull whirr of mechanisms upon each digit and the boisterous crowd of sky pirates fresh and old making the best of their new dining. Greyson sat slumped forward, picking away halfheartedly at some potatoes and a small slab of meat. Each new bite of food was met with slow, deliberate, and yet strained chewing, as he tried to keep himself from vomiting at the thought of having to actually stay aboard this tub.

One could see it in his eyes- those beady amber globes, darting to keep a careful watch out for any crew facing his way. He was cautious, suspicious even, clearly not wanting anything to do with the rest of these free-spirited rogues. Then why, of course, would he put himself on a ship filled with a whole lot of the dogs if he held such spite for them?

As one half-sensible brigand within his prison said, "At this point, you can either be free, or be dead. No in-between." Of course, to Greyson, there was no truth behind the saying.

The apparent captain of the Crimson Dusicyon was made apparent, and much of the subordinates present stood to salute him hotly. From his corner against the window, meanwhile, Greyson slowly threw down his fork and stood up, not even bothering with a salute. Perhaps Mr. Renault was a perfectly reasonable and capable man (for being a sky pirate, at least), but to Greyson he could be no different than himself: guilty, until proven innocent never. If authorities gave themselves no reason to care, why should Grey himself, an otherwise unwilling civilian, make any further effort on his own part?

"One: Take care of each other, you're all you've got!"

Call him a cynic - no, go ahead, it's not like he has anything left in his crushed little heart to lose, besides his life blood - but Greyson found himself more of a nihilist now. People just weren't ever used to seeing the good in a man until it aligned directly with their own gains. If you saved a life, it wasn't out of the goodness of your heart, it was because they still had some personal use to you.

"Two: My orders are law! I will not tell you to change who you are or how you operate, but cross me and I'll toss you off the side of the ship!"

Case in point. Now Grey stood with his arms crossed, and barely repressed a sarcastic sigh at the captain's minced words.

"And Three: Enjoy what time you have alive! You might lose it when you least expect it!"

So, overall, I won't tell you how to live or act, but you'd better enjoy yourself and take care of others or else you're defying my will. So much for being a figure one could relate to. As the captain finished his speech with tomorrow's plans and dismissed the crew, Greyson plopped back into his seat with an audible skid on the floor. There was several bites of food left on his plate, but the shattered man couldn't care enough to stomach them. He was still reeling at what the next day was going to bring.

A raid on Tirbetha... an island packed with the most sinful, scum-filled vagabonds this side of the horizon. Certainly, Renault was in a fat hurry to die, and just wanted a few good men to bring with him to the grave. Still, that had to be better than being at all left to the will of the disgusting outlaws of that place. Perhaps Greyson would consider it, when the time came.

There was still that childish, idealistic spark that was yet keeping him alive now, though...

There were only a few people sitting around in the cafeteria when Cari entered through the large double doors and moved towards the meal counter. As routine she always made an effort to eat her fill before or after the crowd of 'maggots', as named by one particular crew member, appeared. This was mostly due to the public's reaction when they saw her exposed face; a look of curiosity, a look of uncertainty, a stare that often left her unwilling to finish off her meals. As she walked towards the counter and skimmed across the front of the serveries, she picked up anything that looked mildly attractive. Meat, vegetables, bread, it didn't really bother her what each serving contained. She just simply took her fair share and made her way over to one of the tables closest to the side of the room, ensuring that she sat in a chair that faced the wall.

Cari pulled down her bandanna and picked up the cutlery, holding them in the proper manner as she began to slice up her meal and lift each portion into her mouth. She felt it enter her lips and let it float around between her grinding teeth and tongue, but sadly tasted nothing. The engineers that gave her this new body did everything they could to revive her sense of touch after her accident, but the sense of taste was something deemed too difficult to perfect. Any attempts they made only resulted in the taste of metal, the metal that filled the lower half of her face.

Steadily the noise in the cafeteria began to rise as more and more people piled into the room. Cari placed her utensils on the plate, wiped her mouth and pushed the meal away from her before lifting her bandanna back into place. She sat there quietly and closed her eyes, zoning out from the activity in the room waiting for it to eventually leave. A couple of moments passed when the smashing sound of serving tray being forcefully placed down broke Cari out of her trance. Her eyes shot open only to see a small collection of young men sitting both opposite, and beside her.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake up sleeping beauty," the cynical male opposite her spoke out, knowing full well that his noisy racket got a reaction out of her. She sat there silently staring back, "I gotta say... I do like the colour of your hair. It matches your eyes. Turquoise? Cyan? I dunno, what do you think?"

The male turned to one of his associates and awaited his response, "Um, It looks blue to me..."

"That's cause you're a fucken idiot!" His attitude changed dramatically in a way that showed his dominance above these fellow crew members all while lifting his hand to give a quick backhanded slap across the side of his mate's head, "If you want to show a 'woman' that she is a beautiful object of desire then you have to broaden your vocabulary!" Taking a deep breath he turned back to Cari, "I'm sorry about letting you see that. Here's the thing... We all know this is going to be a loonng journey, and me and the boys have certain neeeds that we occasionally want filled..."

She chuckled slightly, interrupting him, and lifted her hand to cover her face much like a teenager hiding a dirty secret. She looked at the male with wanting eyes allowing him to lean forward in anticipation for an answer... and that's when she made her move.

Cari flicked the bandanna down with her index finder, kicked the chair she was sitting on out of the way and was standing up over the edge of the table before the others had a chance to react. Her hands slammed down on the hard surface and as she suddenly lowered her face she gave her jaw a mighty, loud, SNAP! Instantly the male pulled back, rocking on his chair to the point where he almost fell arse over tit. He looked at her in shock, seeing her grin with the bright, metallic teeth surrounded by black lips and sheets of metal.

"AAAAATEEEENSHUUUN CREWWW! CAAAAAAPTAIIIN ON DECK!"

Cari pulled back slowly and turned to face the balcony where the captain was making his speech. For the second time in that cafeteria she pulled her bandanna back into place and then proceeded to salute the captain, all while grinning like a child under the sheet of fabric knowing full well that she more than likely made a fellow new recruit, who thought he was king shit, piss his pants.

Previous Evening

Light, white and hot came down from a desk-lamp poised above Nikola's hands, scurrying around the circle of illumination was Dorkface curious about what was going on, yet apprehensive about stepping into the harsh white light. In Nikola's hands was a watch he had found rattling around in the engine's housing, he brought it to Grufman's attention and it turned out that it belonged to a previous member of the crew. He turned it over and over in his hands before setting down the scorched time piece and picking out the smallest screwdriver he had. Gently, he turned the screws to the back plate and placed them on the desk nearby, upon lifting up the panel he sighed, everything was loose and rattling around in the watch's body.

"It going to be loooong night." he mumbled. Upon those words, Dorkface bounded up his arm and came to rest on his shoulder, slowly turning himself around so he was facing the watch, then settling down to watch with half lidded eyes. Nikola tapped out all of the gears and springs and looked down into the empty husk of the watch, it would need a good cleaning and clean it he did. The stainless steel glinted in the harsh light of the desk-lamp and it sat there on his desk, clean and strapless, as Nikola had to dispose of the charred leather strips that were once straps. He had cleaned the face and buffed the glass, now all that was left was putting all the pieces back in their places. Nikola stuffed his hand into his pocket and poured a fist full of Ferret Food onto the desk; he was settling in for a long night.

Present

Dorkface opened her eyes and slowly and instantly squinted, the morning light was pouring into the space from porthole in the walls and hurt her little rodent eyes. Upon getting use to the light she surveyed her surroundings, beneath her Nikola's head was rested on the table and his hands dangled on either side of his body, he was asleep. She opened her mouth and yawned silently before proceeding to chomp down on Nikola's ear.

Nikola woke up with a yelp and sat bolt upright, sending Dorkface tumbling through the air only to land on her feet on the desk. He glared at her and she looked down at the desk beneath her paws, smiling sheepishly.

"Was that really necessary.." he groaned, leaning to crack his spine on the chair back, she simply replied with a bob of her head and her attention was taken by the somewhat depleted pile of bits left on the desk from the previous night. Letting Dorkface chow down on what was left of her bits, Nikola rose from his chair and groaned as he stretched his arms back and sighed with relief as he let them fall back down on either side of his body. He trotted over to his cabinet, the catwalk beneath his feet rustling gently, he slipped out of his apron and shrugged into his suit-vest, slipping his tie on with practiced ease.

Looking out of the porthole Nikola smiled, it was a gorgeous blue day outside. He strode over to his desk and picked Dorkface up, putting her on his shoulder and pocketing the watch. He vacated his room and locked the door behind him for two reasons, one was because that was his ‘room’ and two because the engine was right below the catwalk and if one were to fall in they’d die.

As he clonked down the metal halls, he fiddled with the watch in his pocket, he was sure he could get good money out of it if he sold it, or he could get it a new strap and wear it himself. As he ruminated on what to do with it, he stepped in to the cafeteria and got into line for what must have been lunch or something; he didn’t get anything fancy, soup and a nice mini-loaf of bread. Upon joining the crew he quickly found out he couldn't stomach most of the food on offer, to seemed that his body had grown use to 'poor people' food and just couldn't handle nice things. Nikola found himself a seat on the end of a bench and plonked himself down, placing his tray on the table and pulling out his not book. On the far end of the table it appeared that a minor kerfuffle was going on, between a bunch of men and a lone female, Nikola didn't intrude, instead he picked up his pen and as he ate drew.

However soon he was interrupted by the yell of the captain and stood to attention, even Dorkface standing on her hind legs as if to express her respect to the captain. Upon dropping his hand down from his salute, Nikola's mind wandered off and he only managed to pick up a few words. "New base?" he mumbled to himself and plonked back down into his seat, finishing his drawing with a tentative Dorkface watching from her spot on the other page.

---

"Well that was a rousing speech, wasn't it Faris?" A slender man whispered inaudibly from behind the upturned collar of his jacket. Though his eyes seemed focused upon the captain during his display, in actuality: his attention was drawn to the inner-workings of the ship that were being relayed to him via his small automaton that was now skittering about the ship. Of course his little creation was set loose only after the Captain had welcomed them aboard the ship... Officially. Still, the fact remained, that if Nathan was to serve upon this ship, he'd like to get to know 'her' a little better. He didn't regret that decision at all.

As visions of the ships tech began showing upon his HUD, Nathan could only smile in satisfaction. It seemed like it had been forever since he had time to settle down with any sort of machinery... Well aside from the bionic limb upgrade he was apart of less than a month ago, but that didn't count. Here, he was surrounded by it. As the prospects of what was to become began playing out before him, he couldn't help but remove his hat from his head and sigh in satisfaction.

"I think that's enough for now Faris, we'll scout out more later." The man spoke slightly louder, partially forgetting he wasn't alone in the hall. As the realization of his new station began to settle upon him, Nathaniel couldn't help but let his frown fade slightly. 'They are pirates after all... If I'm going to survive even the first boarding, I've gotta learn how to use these,' no sooner than the thought had crossed his mind was he idly peering down onto his rather packed duffle bag. There it all was.. The armor he had made some few years ago, the two pistols that he hardly ever fired, and the katana that- well it looked badass. Still, Nathan recognized that if he was going to have any chance at living a long life in this line of work- he had to get his hands dirty. But for now, that could wait. As he sat idly- waiting for Faris- One could see the rather satisfied smile of the seemingly absent minded man.

"I sung of Chaos and Eternal Night,
Taught by the heav'nly Muse to venture down
The dark descent, and up to reascend..."

Carson cradled the worn old book in her hands and continued to read through its delicate pages for quite some time. It had come into her possession from another member of the crew some few weeks ago. When she was finished with it she would, in turn, pass it to another who took interest. It was a strange ritual that had developed among several denizens of the crew and spread rapidly. She sat curled in a chair in the corner of the officers lounge with her left leg straight. Things had been rather hectic on the Dusicyon with the new recruits cutting their teeth and she had taken to seeking out places of peace and quiet when she had time. The quarters she occupied, though kept exceptionally neat and orderly by her own hand and a few of her comrades', was not always the best place to find solitude.

The light coming through the small windows changed in hue from late afternoon gold to evening red. It only occurred to her that dinner would be served soon when she began to find it hard to see the words on the page. Coming to a good stopping point she slipped a piece of scrap paper, with a completed to-do list scrawled on it, between the pages and rose out of the chair. The book would be dropped off at her quarters on the way. She took long, quiet strides hampered by a slight limp to the door and left the lounge empty.

The sunset was brilliant from the deck and she walked slowly, letting her hips rock rather than keeping a straight-laced military strut, and enjoyed it. Not only did she want to enjoy the light painting the clouds, but also the stark cleanliness that had found the well-traveled deck. The corner of her lips only just turned up. Her fingers drifted over a freshly polished hand rail.

Once in the cafeteria she took her place in line and chose her food quickly. She didn't bother to make pleasantries with anyone. She had only just sat down when the captain entered. She didn't have to wait for Grissom's bellowing to immediately snap back up into a salute as rigid as a marble statue. Others did the same only a second or two later.

Solid ground. An interesting prospect for this crew. It had been nearly two years at this point since she had been picked up by Renault on that hellish little spit of an island and she could count on one hand the number of times she had stepped off of the ship. While the concept now seemed strange to her, she couldn't help but think it was a much needed asset. The crew was growing steadily. Perhaps the Captain should begin considering the procurement of a fleet in the future as well.

Now casual conversation resumed and she listened as banter flew across tables while eating her simple meal of steak with no seasoning, greens with no sauce and baked potato with no butter. Water was all she drank. A necessity she saw as the luxury it really was.

When Cyrus winked at her she had just, unfortunately, looked up. In return, all he got for his efforts was a cold, deeply unimpressed stare. She kept eye contact with him until it became uncomfortable to the point of being scathing and then turned her attention to Faulkner, a few seats down.

"General," Carson spoke in a low, soft and highly articulate voice, "The deck is in flawless condition this evening. It's been some time since I've seen it shine quite like that. You have my commendation."

Niesha had slept sparingly, her dreams tormented with nightmares, memories, and fears. She woke several times, her blankets wrapped around her, her breathing fast, shallow, covered in clammy sweet. Sadly, not an unusual occurrence for her. She finally gave up after the third time, and just spent the rest of the night looking up at the ceiling, until it was a reasonable hour to get up. Even then, she just sat on her bed, holding her bow in her hands, the one soft, uncared, normal. The other...well, that one had been maimed, and repaired with technology the world possessed.

Where are you, Mother, Father? Where are you, my big brothers? Are you even alive? Will I find out htat you died years ago, one day? She thought to herself, sighing softly, and laying the bow on her bed, rising, dressing, she brushed back her hair with her fingers, not particularly caring if it was neat and dressing in her usual clothes. She then trotted to the cafeteria, and silently got some food.

She had been n the ship for a little while. She had chosen a bed, and put her stuff away, and explored the ship, and done any tasks that were required of her. She cleaned, offered to cook but she was terrible at that so sshe didn't do it too often, and did any tasks the rest of the crew didn't want to do. Which is exactly what she did today, She stopped for a few minutes and watched Faulkner with the new recruits, but otherwise she worked hard.

She knew how to read and write, and could do both very well, and one day, she would transfer and copy the books that the crew and ship had, so she could have her own mini personal library but also to preserve what was in it. When the day had been completed, Niesha headed back to the cafeteria for her evening meal. She took it as a luxury that she could have more then one meal a day.

She looked up as the Captain entered, and turned her attention to the speech. Niesha had a respect for the captain that she didn't for many other people. The Captain didn't have to give her a job, a place on the ship, but here she was. And that meant a lot to her. She looked about at the crew, new and old, studying them all. She knew soon she would have to investigate, to ask probing questions, but for now she was content to keep quite and to watch.

Travis raked his slicked back hair with his fingers, sweat plastering it to his head. Deep bags had set into his under eye after the night of restless sleep. He looked into the mirror above his sink, smelling of after shave, as he ran his hand across his face, feeling his five o clock shadow, the stubble lightly prickling his fingers. Despite the active sunlight outside, the room was dark as the blinds were drawn. After taking a deep gulp of air, he splashed frigid cold water on his face, expelling his tiredness. After drying his hands on a ragged hand towel, Travis unholstered his revolver. With a flick of his wrist, he popped the chamber open, making sure all the bullets were loaded. One, two, three, four five, six. Six bullets. Yep, that was right. With elegant speed, he flicked his wrist again, closing the chamber. He flipped off the safety, spun the gun around his forefinger, and holstering it -- a move he did often in his hometown deserts. He shook his head, clearing it, and headed out into the ship's hallway.

As Travis arrived into the mess hall, he glanced at his watch. "Damn," he muttered to himself, realizing he was late for breakfast. Renault was finishing up an introductory speech, one he'd heard from many augers do in his time. He was sure it involved something about his word being law, and the like. It was a common cliche' that he was all too used to. Travis entered the mess hall's line, nodding to the staff. "What you got left for me?" he asked the server who he for some reason had taken a liking to, named Jim.

"Late again Travis? How hard is it to wake up on time?" he said with a chuckle. After a hard stare from Travis, he continued, "Right, what we have left. Well there's some coffee left, if you want," pulling out a pot of coffee from under the counter. "I'll take what I can get," responded Travis, as Jim poured him a cup of Arbuckle's. After grabbing the cup, taking a sip, and giving Jim his nod of approval, Travis pulled into one of the only seats available. It was next to a blonde girl, probably in her mid 20's who was wearing black clothing; something of a hybrid between a dress and a jacket. As he studied her more he realized that she had a cybernetic hand. Travis found this interesting, but turned to his coffee. He nearly finished it by gulping it in one go, and once he was done he pulled out a pack of Marlboros. He held the cigarrette in his mouth as he drew a lighter out from his breast pocket. He cupped the flame from the lighter in his hands as he drew it to the ciggarette, effectively lighting it.

"Smoking first thing in the morning, now you've really sunk low Trav," he muttered to himself, thinking out loud.

Last Night

The night had been silent and calm as the Dusicyon flew through the sky in all her majesty. None could really argue just how beautiful the ship was, especially not to Cyrek Krusek. Cyrek knew the ship's every crack, as he worked hard to keep her in good repair. Tonight was another one of those sleepless nights where he had his work cut out for him. He had every reason to sleep in tomorrow, but there was to be some big dinner going down, courtesy of the captain.

The ship didn't glow against the light of the moon, as she was bluntly colored enough to not be noticeable to the eyes of her prey. One thing was visible that night, and that was a small light coming from the arc of Cyrek Krusek's welding torch. He stared unflinchingly at the hot metal, through shaded lenses. Sparks would sally forth every now and then, attacking his leather jacket he prized so much.

He was held up by a strong leather tether and a harness. He seemed to be able to free float, but he was locked in place to his work with different methods. He was also locked to his work with his attention. He was dedicated to welding. It was an art form to him. He controlled the hot metal, directing its flow into the crevices, strengthening them and making the ship stronger as a whole.

This night of sleeplessness would not be to his liking. He always found it more to his liking to burn an arc during the dark hours. It was easier to concentrate on the difficult task when all the light you had was the arc.

The Present

Cyrek awoke late, having burned up the entire night of any sleep he could get, leaving it all for the day. He looked to his old clock, seeing the alarm had gone off a long time ago and had gone silent a long time ago. He jumped out of bed, still wearing the same clothes he had worn last night. He splashed water on his face and went running around his shared quarters, back and forth. He didn't bother wearing his leather jacket, as he headed out with only his tank top t-shirt to cover his upper torso and his work pants. He seemed to be wearing all of his work clothes except for his jacket.

He made his way towards the cafeteria. "Ahhh fuckin' hell, man. This is fucking bullshit." He ran through the hallways, busting through the doors only to notice he had missed even the captain's speech. "Fuck." He ran his hand through his hair and headed towards the line, walking very pronounced and determined.

He stepped into line right behind the aloof Travis Ice. The man seemed to have come in at a similar time to him, probably not for the exact same reasons as Cyrek. Cyrek had been hard at work on the repairs which kept popping up. "So you too, huh?" He said, lackadaisically. He took up a tray and started collecting food on it.

"Oh don't worry, LT. Faulkner made sure everybody gave the ship the good ol' spit shine. Though mind the blood, he may have used the faces of a few recruits as sponges." Cyrus laughed and stuck a spoonful of hash into his mouth. "I have to admit, LT. Your reputation has not been wrongly spoken of. It is in fact a pleasure to see the woman that fractured the Nesychian army. You did a loooooot of damage, ya know."

__

Holding out his hand, the captain whistled quietly and the robotic creature he called his 'pet' used the miniscule gyrojets underneath it's wings to flap up and land on his arm gracefully. He sat alone in the officer's lounge, a dark purple lit cabin with three small groups of lounge chairs around a few small tables. There was a decent sized bar on the far side of the room with the wall filled many a type of alcohol.

The captain held out a small cracker that Asphexia pecked at it uninterestedly. He enjoyed coming up here during the dinners, listening to the frenzied mumbling from down below. It soothed him somewhat as he thought about the upcoming days. It was going to be a siege of one of the most dangerous fortresses in the region. Ulysses was there, but his spies inside the fortress told him that his fleet was not. Ulysses had been the victim of a massive mutiny at the hands of his first mate. He had commandeered one of the flagships and assumed control of the fleet, speeding off for another region to settle and pillage on his own terms. It left Ulysses open, weakened him to the point of being a pushover, but Renault was no fool. He knew that this wouldn't last long. Ulysses was a man of intense charisma and power. He would not stay weak for long. Perhaps he was rushing to fast into this, but he was not going to miss this opportunity to take him down and avenge the fall of the Tiranade and take back his home. He held up his free hand to Aspexia's beak. It clicked a button on his wrist and activated a remote communicator.

"Attention all officers. Report to the officer's lounge in one hour and thirty minutes. We have business to discuss about tomorrow...and Cyrus, please attend to the drinks fifteen minutes early. Make them strong. That is all." Aspexia clicked the button again and he leaned back in the lounge chair, closing his eye for a few moments. A yawn overtook him and he felt himself slip away into darkness for a bit.

Several people had began to disperse out of the cafeteria, possibly to prepare, but knowing what the crew was like they were probably going to head off to the closest bar near the docks for a drink. Cyrus was going to be serving the officers during their meeting with the captain which meant that the bar wasn't going to be open for a while. It was a shame really as he knew how to mix a mean Electric Storm.

Cari was sitting back in her seat finishing off her meal after she noticed the harassers aroud her had decided that it would be best to leave her alone. They weren't pleased but after she made their alpha leader look like a coward they decided that she wasn't worth their time. Looking around the room she noticed a few familiar faces on some of the tables, people who must have arrived in late, and decided it would be best to socialise with the more accommodating members of the crew.

As Cari stood up out of her seat she stepped aside and slid the chair back under the table. She left the tray with it's unfinished scraps of food where she sat, noting a young kitchen-hand that was scurrying around the room collecting the dishes to be cleaned, and began walking towards some of the other crew members. When she closed in on her fellow crew she brushed past the tightly sitting chairs spinning around and resting her hands on the edge of the table before lifting her body up and sitting up on the edge. Her feet rested on the corners of the two chairs that the two crew members to the side of her were sitting on.

"Smoking first thing in the morning, now you've really sunk low Trav" @Inuyasha

The cigarette smoke around Travis dispersed as Cari moved about and made herself comfortable. She reached into her pocket she pulled out soft-pack, tipping them up and letting one of the death sticks fall into the palm of her hand. Slowly she lifted it towards her mouth and exposed a lighter, which she happily clicked to ignite a flame, and gave a few puffs to keep the tip lit.

"Travis... This is yours by the way," Cari mechanically spoke as she held out the lighter to the man sipping on his coffee, barely making an effort to make eye contact with him. Her speech sounded human, but the tone had a slight robotic pitch as if it modulated through an intercom. As to why Cari had Travis' lighter? Well she had to practice her skills occasionally and taking her fellow crew member's personal items right before handing them back was a sure way to hone those traits, not to mention that it was a bit of a bragging right.

As she sat there joining Travis in the smog Cari picked up a bread roll from on the table and began to pick it to pieces. With each piece that she broke off she gave it a flick so that it would land on the table that she was previously occupying. Every time a piece landed the little ferret, by the unusual name of Dorkface, would rush off and chow it down like it was the last meal it would ever have. @Voltus_Ventus

Dorkface wasted no time scampering across the table, munching down on little bits of food as they fell from the sky. She was amazed that such a thing was happening, having never observed such strange weather patterns before. She continued to nosh on the bread, Nikola only chuckling lightly and allowing her to romp around the trays left behind, eating bread.

Once sated, she decided to investigate the bready weather anomaly, her eyes scanning the metal ceilings for signs of clouds that often came with rain. She spotted nothing and instead, tracked the trajectory of the bread bits to their source - A woman on the other side of the cafeteria. 'How odd..' thought Dorkface, 'Light pieces of bread shouldn't be able to get this far.' she payed the lack of physical sense no mind and instead scampered along the table, jumping from bench to bench until she landed on the one where the woman was perched.

Dorkface scampered over to the vicinity of the bread-throwing-woman, though instantly recoiling upon getting to close. The smell of burning hit her nose like a brick and the smoke coaxed a barrage of silent sneezes from her nose.

Ptew.. Ptew.. PTEW!

The last sneeze nocked onto her back and she wiggled around a bit until she was away from the smoke, rolling her muzzle around in her front paws to try and alleviate the post-sneeze sensation she was experiencing. Upon reliving herself of her discomfort, Dorkface sat up on her hind legs and looked at the woman expectantly, 'I'm waiting.' she thought, hoping that an apology was on it's way, though she doubted that was the case, to those who weren't Nikola she was just a funny little animal who played at intelligence.



He drew absentmindedly, not paying attention to his surroundings, occasionally he'd put his hand into his pocket and pull out a pinch of Ferret food, popping it into his mouth and crunching. Nikola repeated this action, stuffing his hand into his pocket and pulling out some food, however this time instead of bringing to his own mouth he held it to Dorkface. He waited for a few moments, his hand extended outward and waiting for the feeling of her little mouth to nibble at his palm, it didn't come and soon he grew impatient.

He turned his head to look at her, giving her a stern look only to have it disarmed as he noticed her absence. Nikola's eyes glanced around and yet he could not find his rodent companion; he checked under the table and benches, he searched in soup bowls and empty cartons and could find her, he even checked under his book, that showed no signs of anything being under it. However he soon gave up his frantic searching and simply called her name.

"Dorkface?!"

Niesha watched the others. She had learned throughout her years of imprisonment to watch others, to learn who could be relied on, who would crack, and who had just given up, as well as which slavers and smugglers would offer you an extra piece of bread or those that would just as easily give you a punch.

She watched the ferret, cute thing that it was, practically dance around as she chased after the bread, and then as she joined the woman smoking. She gave a light chuckle, and used her own break to sop up the rest of her soup, and then watched as Nikola frantically searching.

the Announcement for the officers to meet was nothing to Niesha. She wasn't one, and anything they came up with, she would follow her orders and do what was asked of her. She might question them, and if they seemed wrong to her, she might speak up, but she would do all that was asked of her.

Niesha was still watching as Nikola continued to search, wondering if she should speak up. Finally, as Nikola called out to the ferret, Niesha put down her spoon, and said softly, loud enough to be heard, "The ferret? She's over that way, with the smokers. One of them was throwing bread and she was chasing it" Niesha's voice generally had a soft tone, a slight tremor in it as if she expected to be punished for speaking up. Something she had never quite gotten over.

She studied Nikola, wondering why anyone would bring a ferret here. Of course, Niesha didn't know the bond that could form with pets. "Why did you name her dorkface?" The ferret seemed cute, playful, not at all dorky. She also seemed intelligent, having figured out where the bread was coming from. It didn't make sense to Niesha. Maybe it was an affectionate name.

"Attention, all officers. Report to the officer's lounge in one hour and thirty minutes. We have business to discuss about tomorrow..."

The final announcement over the intercom made Greyson suppress a groan. Yes, he was a navigator, but the captain already had a navigator as his right-hand man and practically best friend. When it came to local area planning, there surely wasn't anything that required Greyson's 'expertise'. But then, the washed-up adventurer quickly reminded himself, he would be nothing more than another one of these wild dogs being led into danger half-blindly. That was the reason he had lobbied for his position as an officer: so that at least he'd have a medium of control over this tub so he could not die so quickly.

Giving up on finishing the remnants of his food, Greyson hoisted himself out of his seat, only bothering to pick up his tray as an afterthought. One of the work-hands scurring about bumped into Greyson, and he in turn handed over his dishes before he made to leave. Somehow, Grey managed to take his time, inching his way through the throng of scattered chairs and remaining rowdy vagabonds.

One pair of tables had a ten-some of the loud-mouthed men, all rambling and laughing about some various stories. Another end table bore the likes of a cowboy, two mechanically-modified women and a ferret - half of them were smoking. Farther back from where Grey was had what seemed to be one of the ship's engineers, calling out for some pet named Dorkface. The ferret, he guessed. Wordlessly, Grey inched past one more latecomer looking for a seat and finally exited into the hall.

He was at least going to get some shit from his room first.

"Officer's meet?" Nathan seemed to blink out of his daze as his eyes cut towards the direction of the sound. Something then sparked in the man's mind, "Hey, Faris... Postpone the home coming. Try to find this officer's lounge. And stay hidden! I don't want to have to piece you together like the last time you got caught," the man added beneath his now raised collar. As the heading of his dear machination changed, Nathan would shut down his HUD as he rose from the table and made his way out of the mess hall.

The inner workings of the ship. Never had Nathan thought he would be serving upon a vessel of this magnitude and quality. What with his experience smuggling parts and machines in quiet inferior vessels, this seemed like heaven to the mechanically inclined. And with that notion, he saw himself traversing the corridors of the Dusicyon, careful to mind the signs as he attempted to find whatever workstation there was to this ship. Despite the traffic of whatever corridors he was in, he was able to slip past them with ease; his familiarity of slipping in and out of tight spots to hide would prove useful inside the vessel. Though after a bit of treking, a thought dawned upon him.

"Damnit... I left my gear in the hall!" With that thought, he rounded back the way he came, rushing back in an attempt to retrieve his gear before someone else did.

~General Richard Faulkner~
Faulkner's eye twitched as cyrus spoke. He preferred to eat in silence, but Cyrus was sitting fairly close to him and he was forced to listen. He took a large drink of his whiskey before continuing to eat his steak. He would have probably interjected into the conversation and changed it to something that he was interested in like guns, killing or shouting at people but the captain began to speak through a remote communicator. He was to report to the officers lounge in an hour and thirty minutes. Of course, Faulkner being the punctual man he was, rose from his chair, staring at cyrus like a wolf stares at it's prey all the while.
"Excuse me, gentlemen, ladies, but I must go and report for duty" He stomped off to the officers lounge, his boots almost splintering the wooden floor.

~Doctor Cassandra Bishop~

Cassandra toyed with her food, dinner was always a boring event for her. It was always far too loud within the cafeteria to have a proper conversation and when she did finally find someone to have a conversation with they were usually some drunk idiot pirate, slurring their words and attempting to make advances towards Cassandra.

The captain spoke through a remote communicator, explaining that he needed the officers to report to their lounge. That included Cassandra. She sighed, wiping her face with her napkin before picking up her drink and sipping it as she listened to the conversations of others. She never really knew why she was called to these meetings, they were always about who to kill next, or where to pillage next or other such pirate related things. Cassandra knew little to nothing about these subjects and could only contribute a small
"My department can heal the wounds!" every now and then. Nevertheless, it was common courtesy to go. She sat a while, finishing her drink, before rising from her chair, excusing herself, and making her way to the officers lounge. She only realized halfway that Faulkner was waiting there, seething with rage. She made a quick detour back to her room, fixing her makeup for a small while before returning to her previous route and heading back to the officers lounge.

"I forsook that title years ago, Cyrus," she reminded the man, "And I had no bigger part in the events that took place on the Tarakan nor the events that it sparked than a snowflake has in an avalanche. Nesycha was a time bomb. I was simply there when the clock hit zero."

While a handful of officers quickly found their way out of the cafeteria Carson opted to stay behind for a few minutes to finish eating and keep an ear out for interesting goings on. Besides, she had an hour and a half before the meeting began and she had already spent most of the afternoon in the lounge. While she wrapped up dinner she watched a member of the crew throwing food for an agile little creature the likes of which she had never seen before. Though she didn't approve of animals on the ship that was not her call to make and she had to admit the little thing was rather fascinating to observe.

However at the forefront of her mind was the operations that were to take place the next day. She tried her best to think ahead and what the Captain might have in mind in the way of attack plans, but he was unpredictable and she never could get that one or two steps ahead of him. All she could do was consider the situation carefully and make sure the gunners and weapons on the machine were ready. Her heart beat heavily.

She rose from her seat and took her dishes to the kitchens herself before heading for the door. It was then that she noticed the strange bag sitting unattended at one of the tables. Carson examined it for a moment trying to place it. Who had been sitting there? A man. Ah, yes. He was new. The one with all the gadgets who had constantly been staring at a screen of some sort. Other than that she knew little about him. She frowned before walking over and hefting the bag over her shoulder. The weight caused her to grunt and exacerbated her limp as she left and walked down the corridor to the lounge. Just what the hell was in this thing?

Whatever it was, she made it her responsibility to return it to its rightful owner before one of the fresh ruffians decided to rifle through the contents... Even if she did rather enjoy watching such people being brutally put in their place for disrespecting other crew members and treating the ship like a child's bedroom. Somehow it always felt like cleaning house.

Nikola strained to hear Niesha's voice, it was a faint thing like a whisper through an intercom but he caught something around description of them being by the smokers. 'she should learn how to project.' he thought to himself as he pulled his eyes over to the table where - just as Niesha had said - Dorkface was. Nikola sighed in relief, his rodent companion was ok, she may have been sneezing and wriggling around but she seemed fine; he began walking over to her, however after seeing that people were enjoying her company he decided to let her mingle with them.

Upon deciding he would leave Dorkface to romp about elsewhere Nikola found that he was standing in the middle of the hall with nothing to do. Looking around he spotted Niesha, the one who had directed him to his Ferrety friend, and remembered that she had asked him about Dorkface's name. She was only a few tables away, so it seemed more appropriate to walk over to her instead of loudly replying across the hall. So he did so, walking over to her and sitting infront of her but by the time he arrived his mind had wandered off the question and he found himself struggling to find it again.

"Um.." he began, thinking through the words in his head, "what was Question?"

Niesha gave a small sigh, and finished off her water, silent once more, and watchful as Nikola spied Dorkface. She hadn't expected anything, rather, she had just sought to ease Nikola's panic, and nothing more. So Niesha was surprised when Nikola approached her, sitting down in front of her.

Her expression was probably comical, but she quickly smoothed her expression. "Oh. Well. I asked why you call her dorkface. She doesn't seem dorky" Niesha said softly still, studying Nikola, before looking over to where some of the others were smoking, and at Dorkface.

She seemed uncertain, as if she was asking something wrong, or too personal. Was a pets name personal? she didn't know. There was a lot she didn't know about life, it seemed. She shifted, moving aside her dishes so she could rest her arms against the table. "I mean...Can someone have a dorky Face? is that why you named her that?"

Normally, ,after eating Niesha retreated back to her room, or to practice with her bow, or even to borrow a book. She didn't normally hang around and talk with others.