Vonny simply sat at the table and observed everyone. He wasn’t in the mood to talk due to being groggy from his nap. He had a short yawn before he looked over at the newsletter. Vonny read the newsletter as the food started coming in, his two pitchers of beer and a glass plus 3 plates of ribs with differed sauces dripping around them. Various aromas were scented like honey garlic, BBQ and Buffalo Sauce. Vonny nodded along as he read the various portions of the newsletter until he arrived at the help wanted section. He placed the newsletter down and began reading it more closely. His right hand grabbed a pitcher and he had a hearty sip of the brew.

“Bloody hell this party idea is a great things chaps don’t you all agree?” Vonny asked, grabbing a portion of his Honey Garlic Rib and munching through it. He had another sip of his brew before saying once more. “I know this chap, I went to one or two of his parties and believe me they were fucking massive. The bar had every drink from Zaza Water to Van Heizen Dutch Brew! The food, don’t get me started was made right in front of you. Boy it was show to behold!” Vonny exclaimed, before nodding and going back to eating his rather large meal. He stopped after finishing his Honey Rib, his hands dripping from the sauce used. “I mean *Burp* excuse me, but if you lads don’t like parties I wouldn’t mind?” Vonny ended off by saying as he casually dragged his second rib plate near to him.

With the spectacle of the fight over, the restaurant slouched back into normality. Loud, bustling, crowded normality. The animals that were being converted into food products for sale in this very establishment probably lived in less crowded conditions. Somewhere in the furthest reaches of the galaxy, some mega-predator is starting a letter writing campaign about the terrible conditions their food is grown in. With the jam in the food delivery taken care of, and the army of waiter-bots directing hungry customers to whatever free tables could be found, at least there was now a steady flow of people coming and going. The Jolly Junta nibbled, the Flauhjinks chewed on in stony silence and the whole scene was bathed with the cheery red and blue flashing lights of a security ship gliding by the window.

The Nurr Slugg Security Ship was, much like the Nurr-Sluggi people themselves, uncomfortable to look at for too long. It was as if the designers of the ship had gone out of their way to make a ship look hideously organic; it pulsed and rippled occasionally, like something swimming through the water. You probably wouldn't catch some kind of disease just from touching it, but even the most hardened of space vehicle technicians preferred to wear gloves as a precaution. It was especially necessary for whichever pour soul was chosen to check the oil levels.

Fortunately, there was a queue of ships waiting for their turn to dock alongside the orbital restaurant. There were rules and regulations governing just how one was to go about queuing in Nurr-Slugg society, and the two security officers on board the ship didn't fancy getting chewed out by their commanding officer for cutting in line. In most species, the phrase chewing out is a metaphor. The Nurr-Sluggi are an alarmingly literal people at times.

A searchlight emerged from the side of the security ship, and swung a searching beam slowly across the ships parked outside. The restaurant attracted all comers, and all manner of ships. Many were Nurr-Sluggi vessels, which were given a wide berth by the other customers. A battered and beaten X-87 "Jalopy" sat surrounded by a cloud of rust flakes. A heavily customised HP-CI Moxie, fast and sleek, with a paint job to match. A bunch of IM Space Bikes, designed for cruising from planet to planet, with the words "The Flowjinks Flaughjinks" painted down the side of each of them. There was even a "Vega Class Carrier" which, while less of a fighter carrier and more of a people carrier, could comfortably sit a dozen pan-humanoids and apparently ran on just about anything. The searchlight swept over them all in turn. Then there was the Quest For Flavour.

She was big enough to be considered a bit clunky, but small enough that you wouldn't have to pay the docking fees. Due to the unusual shape of the thing, the searchlight lingered on it for a moment longer than the others. It looked like an ice cream cone with a scoop of (presumably) strawberry ice cream on top, with the cone forming the rear of the ship and housing the angry beast that was the engine. Nearly everything else, such as the living quarters, the cockpit, the recreation room, the ball-pit and the storage rooms, were crammed into the front section across two floors. The searchlight, having taken all of this in, continued to swing about, aiding in the inspection of other ships and temporarily blinding anyone unfortunate enough to stare right into it.

Meanwhile, back in the restaurant, a short, plump pan-humanoid pushed his way out from the kitchen and waddled over towards booth seven. He carried two bags that bulged with food, along with the complimentary napkins (a plastic and paper mix that could only be torn when you least expect it), plastic eating utensils (knives, forks, spoons, wurglies, chopsticks and a pair of latex gloves with seven fingers on each) and a handful of hand-wipes (lemon scented, sealed for freshness). It took some effort for Clarke to get through to the crew of the Quest for Flavour, the restaurant was busy, the flashing lights outside had agitated many of the customers and Clarke was more used to a sedentary lifestyle behind the counter of Henderson's Ribs.

"Thank. You. For. Visiting," Clarke punctuated his sentences with gasps for breath as he placed the two bags on the table, "Henderson's. Ribs. Your. Custom. Is. Appreciated."

He looked like he'd just been through a warzone. The Henderson's Ribs Management Guide & Colouring In Book, incidentally, recommends having your restaurant declared legally as a warzone. This allows for the limited use of chemical weapons in the eyes of most governments, which is something of a must when cleaning the customer toilets.

Vanessa watched with a curious silence as the inspection ship passed through the area checking on the various docked ships. When it lingered for a moment upon the Quest for Flavor Vanessa's eyes narrowed slightly as she waited to see what actions the ship would take. The odd design of the Quest for Flavor often caused an eye to linger for a little longer than some others, but when that eye belonged to an inspection ship it was always cause for concern. Relief washed over her mind as the ship moved on without incident. The horror stories of inspection ships making up charges to extort money from people didn't exist without reason, and Vanessa didn't really care to have her quarters rummaged about by greedy collectors seeking personal prizes rather than actual violations of the law.

When Clarke appeared with their bags, Vanessa gave him a thankful and closed lip smile. Apparently he had gotten them replacement food to go with them, which solved their need to buy supplies while they were aground. Scooping up the bags with her rifle Vanessa thanked Clarke and briefly teleported away. Vanessa was only away for a minute or two before she reappeared, bags having been stored upon the various fridges in the ship. Hiding the small amount of exhaustion that had been gained from the rapid teleporting she had done to reach the ship and back so quickly (Vanessa counted about twenty or so teleports between the diner and the ship, somewhat taxing.) Vanessa gave another closed lip smile to her crew before saying. "The food has been stored upon the ship, which fixes our supplies problem. We're ready to leave whenever everyone is finished eating."

Vanessa's rifle was still present, despite having been used to hold the bags. It was tucked neatly against Vanessa's shoulder, held with barrel up and an empty chamber, as was tradition. Vanessa moved to sit, before she remembered something that she had wanted to do and momentarily left once again. Weaving through the diner with an easy grace, Vanessa came to the counter once more and gave Clarke a brief smirk. Reaching into her coat Vanessa produced a golden coin and flipped it to Clarke with a thankful nod before she walked away again. As Clarke would examine the coin, he would find it to be roughly the size of a half dollar coin. The rim of the coin was crimped to the universal standard and once side engraved with a detailed appearance of a simple bat with it's wings outstretched. The other side bore the appearance of a castle with the moon behind it.

Dämmerlicht coins were not the most valuable coins in the known universe, but some people sought them out as valuable collectables, and one in gold was rather rare since most coins were minted in either a mixture of various scrap metals or cheap silver. Once Clarke had finished looking at the coin, Vanessa would be long gone. Having returned to the booth to await her companions readiness to leave. Vanessa had little more to say or do within the eatery unless something came up that specifically required her attention. With that, the rest was up to the crew of the Quest for Flavor.

Elarin had been sipping his coffee, and trying to enjoy the taste of his ribs, when the fight had broken out. Usually, Elarin wouldn't hesitate to defend his fellow crewmembers aboard the Quest For Flavor, but after piloting an eight-hour starship flight from Eroticon VI(his tail was still sore from that outing) to Nurr-Slugg, the lizardman wanted nothing to do with any sort of inter-booth war, especially with people who looked like the intergalactic equivalent of backwater farmboys dressed in their daddy's leather jackets and driving 2nd hand Space Bikes they tricked out with their allowance. So while the others made simultaneous peace offerings and displays of cartoonish violence, Elarin just sipped at his coffee, one scaley hand pressed against the auditory slit that passed for his right ear, and his eyes blinking themselves out of a glazed stupor.

When the to-go boxes arrived, Elarin just sighed, packing what remained of his ribs and sides into one box, indenting the foam with his claw in the shape of an 'E' to mark it as his, finished the rest of his coffee in one large gulp, and rolled the sleeves back down on his top, so that they once again covered his entire arms.

"So, we ready to hit the road? Cause I'd like to get to the ship as soon as possible. I wanna get the co-ordinates punched into the auto-pilot right away, so that I can spend less time arguing with the damn thing, and more time getting some shut-eye..." With that, Elarin used one claw to pick a bit at his sharp, meat-eating teeth, trying to get a particularly obnoxious bit of fry out from between them.

A plate topped with rib bones and a completely empty bowl sat in front of Fiddelsticks on the diner table. He felt satisfied, at least, for now. Nobody in the galaxy hankered for their favourite food moreso than Fiddlesticks. Nobody except for maybe a particularly colossal meganox that just went through a very long and gruelling hunger strike. This was why he joined the crew, this Quest for Flavour, Fiddlesticks thought to himself. That and the adventure stuff of course.

Fiddlesticks surveyed the rest of the diner. He was relieved to find that the people around were going about their business like nothing happened. The waiter bots darted backwards and forth, doing what good waiter bots did. Overall the mood and atmosphere of the diner was back to normal.

His blood froze cold when he saw the Nurr-Slugg patrol ship. He quickly discarded his fears though, for Fiddlesticks knew that if they were in real trouble, then a couple of Vulcan class galactic peacekeeper patrol fighters would be outside instead. They wouldn't be just lazily floating around outside either. Their galactic peacekeeping troopers would've burst through the door in seconds. Fiddlesticks knew a thing or two about how pan stellar law enforcement operated, from experience. Fiddlesticks was pretty sure that Hendersons Ribs diners were neutral territory. That local law enforcement had no jurisdiction on galactic neutral territory. They weren't always stopped by such a law, unfortunately. Why else would Hendersons Ribs diners have the right to use chemical weapons if they didn't have extra judiciary rights?

Fiddlesticks took a gander at the Nurr-Sluggi patrol ship. It looked like rotten gizzards that were still alive, zombie gizzards? "eww" Fiddlesticks said audibly. He sure didn't envy any non Nurr-Sluggi person who had to work on that thing. Fiddlesticks was a bit of a traditionalist when it came to space ships. He felt that ships made from non organic material were easier to maintain, smelled less, and looked shiny. There were some amazing benefits to organic style ships though, Fiddlesticks had to admit.

A fat human approached the table, carrying two bags of food in variously shaped Henderson Ribs doggy bags. Fiddlesticks was both surprised and delighted that the were taking some extra meals for the road. His appreciation for his crew grew that much more.

"Thank. You. For. Visiting," the fat human punctuated his sentences with gasps for breath as he placed the two bags on the table, "Henderson's. Ribs. Your. Custom. Is. Appreciated." He gasped and heaved like a purple neoswine giving birth. Fiddlesticks thought that he would be obese as well, if he worked in a place like this. Constantly surrounded by his favourite food.

"Good call on the extra food guys! I love me some road ribs!" Fiddelesricks announced to the crew. Who's idea was it to get the extra food anyway? Whoever it was, as for as Fiddlesricks was concerned, they were his new best friend.

A moment later Vanessa took the doggy bag boxes and disappeared. She reappeared and disappeared several more times, until there was no more food. Vanessa must've stored them on the ship. She was amazing. "The food has been stored upon the ship, which fixes our supplies problem. We're ready to leave whenever everyone is finished eating." said she with all the beauty and grace of flower petal drifting in the breeze.

"So, we ready to hit the road? Cause I'd like to get to the ship as soon as possible. I wanna get the co-ordinates punched into the auto-pilot right away, so that I can spend less time arguing with the damn thing, and more time getting some shut-eye..." asked the uptight iguana guy of everyone.

"I sure am." Fiddlesticks replied. "Are we ready to leave captain?" Fiddlesticks asked the swarm of bees.

Well things were finally picking up. Leftover boxes coming out and being transported to the ship, a human coming to say goodbye, and... Well, when the Nurr-Sluggi ship passed by, scanning the docked ships for something. When it stopped on the Quest for Flavor, Toony hid one of her hands behind her back and started to form the barrel of a Gauss cannon out of it. It didn't find what it wanted and passed by, Toony turning her hand back to normal when it decided to leave their ship alone.

When Vanessa finally returned, saying she was done packing and it was time to go, Toony followed the group out to the ship. "So lets get going to that party! I'm going to try to see if I can get smashed!" she said with a cheer. Sure she knew that alchohol didn't do anything for her but give her some complex carbon chains to break down, but it was the thought that counted. Though since this was the first time that she was to see the inside of the Quest for Flavor, having only seen the outside of the ship the day prior. "So, do I have a room or do I just live in the storage compartment?" Toony asked, the question coming to her mind.

”Having taken your comments into consideration it looks like we are going to help set up a party”

the accountant bees can be heard blowing party horns (sound warning) in celebration of this fact.

”Though please try and remember this is a job and we aren't just going to a party. So we will be heading to Ofromia to meet this Zane Heron fellow once we finish up here. Feel free to finish eating and we will set off once everyone is aboard.”

Outside the Bees had finished getting their order from the drive through and as a result the queue started moving again. Back on the ship itself the word of the party job had filtered in with the soldier bees and the pre party planning party was in full swing. If any of the crew where to venture to the bee colony in the cargo hold they would be greeted by a massive amount of the Bees drinking, feasting, playing loud music and engaged in an odd 3d football like sport and other recreational activities.

"So, do I have a room or do I just live in the storage compartment?"

”good question, take these”

The accountant bees put away the horns and retrieved a set of keys with a number on them and handed one to any of the crew who had not yet moved in.

”we haven’t cleaned out the spare quarters since your predecessors… left us, so consider any of the things you find in there belonging to the previous occupants you own.”

This was not entirely true most of the ‘good stuff’ had been salvaged by the bees already and was either in their cargo hold town, sold or back where it belonged in the armory/engine room/med-bay if the occupant had been the thieving type. What was left was furniture, some clothes and anything the Bees had not considered valuable, though they could have been wrong when appraising some of the items.

Vanessa breathed a sigh of relief at the movement the group had made towards the ship. She got up and left the diner relatively quickly, thankful to be on the move before anyone tried anything else. One person making trouble frequently made others more daring in their approach, and Vanessa didn't feel like having a mess to clean up. When the question of living quarters came up, Vanessa opened her mouth slightly to comment upon the situation, but The Bees quickly stepped in and handed out spare keys to anyone not already having one. Thankfully, Vanessa didn't need one. She was already situated within a special room upon the Quest for Flavor. Vanessa's room was pitch black, unlike most of the ship which was relatively well lit. Within it, against the left wall, lay a couch for Vanessa to relax upon and read. A small portable terminal lay upon the couch and was plugged into a charging station tucked into the corner. The terminal featured a small light array indicating if anything had happened while it was inactive. Currently, a small red light on the array blinked. This indicated that there was a new message from someone. Also within Vanessa's room and situated against the back wall was a well stocked weapons workbench that Vanessa used to maintain her rifle, along with some other weapons from time to time. Next to this bench was a locker that Vanessa could store her rifle in for safe keeping, along with some other weapons should Vanessa find them interesting enough to keep.

resting upon the right wall was an ornate coffin, padded with red silk cushions and bolted in place. Next to it was a midsize clothes locker that held several sets of the same suit that Vanessa currently wore, along with perhaps a few secrets for special occasions. Finally, upon the right corner of the room lay a well stocked bookshelf of Vanessa's personal favorite books from the libraries upon Dämmerlicht. These were, of course, reproduction copies and not the originals, since the originals wouldn't stand up to the rigors of space travel. Upon the floor of Vanessa's room was a red and black oval carpet, intricate weaving depicted a bat similar in design to the one on the coin that Vanessa had given Clarke. A Celtic knot pattern twisted around the edge of the carpet. Everything else was rather plain within the room, with little in the way of extra furnishings and exotic decorations.

The room was kept specifically devoid of light to give Vanessa a small sample of comfort from the often bright lights favored by many. The walls, floor, and the interior of the door had been painted with special vantablack paint to absorb any and all light within the room, which left it much darker otherwise. There were lights present encase of emergency, but they were frequently left off since Vanessa could see perfectly even without them. Vanessa had been a part of the crew for a short amount of time. She'd been taken aboard in the brief intermediate time that the old crew had left and the new crewmembers were hired, which was present time. Vanessa's status as a vampire was known to both the pilot and the captains, since Vanessa was picked up from Dämmerlicht itself when the [/i]Quest for Flavor[/i] had stopped for fuel. The stop had been brief and Vanessa's introduction to the skeleton crew even briefer. Thus, most of what the pilot and captain knew about Vanessa came from her rather short personnel file, which left out a lot of details that Vanessa didn't want to trouble the crew with.

Vanessa being a vampire was likely largely unknown to the rest of the crew, unless they had already assumed it. Vanessa did make a small effort to hide her nature from the rest of the crew, though the presence of her fridge likely gave away everything. This was part of the reason Vanessa never gave an open-lipped smile unless she was truly happy about something, since she didn't want to constantly flash her fangs at her crew members and unnerve them. This was also why Vanessa usually ate separately, since she frequently added blood to her meals in order to make them actually nutritious to her. Normal food, while filling, carried no nutritional value to her, which blood did. So things like wings with barbecue sauce became wings with blood sauce, which is what Vanessa had ordered before. Despite her inherently messy eating habit, Vanessa did her best to keep her appearance clean, which was rather difficult with her suit. Regardless, Vanessa managed quite well, and even her white gloves were spotless of any incriminating evidence to her true nature.

As the crew moved aboard the ship, Vanessa would move momentarily to stow her rifle within the locker in her room. While she was within her room for a brief time she noticed the message light blinking upon her terminal and gave a sigh. She ignored it for now, not wanting to get into possibly sensitive material while anyone might be passing by. Leaving her room and closing the door behind her, Vanessa moved over to the common area of the ship and sat down upon one of the curved couches there. There was another across from her and a table between them. This was also typically where the crew ate their meals, since it was much more comfortable. Vanessa, while frequently present, had never eaten here. The smell of her meals was often enough to sour the taste of others, and so Vanessa didn't want to trouble her crew members appetites.

Now, with little more to do or say, Vanessa waited for something else to happen or someone to request her attention.

With all the meaty joys and greasy horrors of the Henderson's Ribs behind them, the rather more inviting and significantly less crowded ship welcomed the crew back home. There was still a steady stream of ships coming and going, handled by a process that'd make any modern air traffic control operator wake up in the night, trembling and sweaty. To give the briefest of overviews and an indication of where management ought to be making changes, Henderson's Ribs licence for operating above the planet of Nurr-Sluggi does not grant them the right to track ships that are nearby due to security concerns. Officially, this meant that once a ship's location could not be tracked until it was safely docked at one of the air locks. The Customer Flow Management Team was forced to press their faces up against the glass of the control tower to get an idea of what was going on out there.

A voice crackled over the radio in the cockpit. It sounded stressed out and, in the background, a careful listener might be able to pick out the usual sounds of a Henderson's Ribs control tower. Which is, to say, shouting, screaming, swearing.

"This is Henderson's Ribs to Quest for Flavour at Dock 16. You have permission to... wait for it, wait for it, okay, go! Permission to undock! This window is available to you for another eighty six seconds, eighty five, eighty fou-"

It fell silent for a moment, then woke back up. A different voice came through, the original speaker could be heard making some sort of muffled protest.

"Apologies for the technical difficulties, Quest for Flavour, you are free to undock whenever you like. Please be aware that we are experiencing," a blood-curdling scream rang in the background that was cut abruptly short with a gurgle, "technical difficulties and we ask customers arriving or departing to take extra care on their journey today."

The ship was ready to go. The galaxy was their genetically modified bivalve mollusc.

It took Toony a bit to find her room, this being the first time inside this ship. It was really weird, most of the rooms being at the front of the ship while the back was mostly just ship bits. A few of the pieces looked fairly old and outdated as well, but she was there for security, not to tune up the place. Some of the bees guided her to her room, acting fairly distracted along the way. Mutterings of honey being the main subject of their yammering.

The room she was given was... well lived in was one way to put it. Lots of organic bits everywhere, while most of the electronics was already taken leading only a bed, a table, a few other decorations, and of course, lots and lots of scattered bits of organic matter that Toony decided not to think about. It didn't matter either way, as she got to cleaning and reassembling the room to something she liked. For the rest of the ship, her rearranging, absorbing, and fabricating things in her room was pretty quiet.

Besides a nice soft place to relax and a large screen for viewing things when she felt lazy, there wasn't much else to the room. Sure there were cubes of various elements she had left over around the outside of the room, sorted to make pixel art of various cartoon characters, but besides that it was fairly tame. No real point in anything other than the basics, not like she'd be staying in her room for very long anyway. It was more fun to play with the others!

Though she'd need to figure out exactly what the others were into. The Bees seemed to be into everything, especially honey, so Toony could always count on them for an interesting time. Fiddlesticks... well he seemed to wear his emotions on his sleeve so he ould be into anything. Really the only mystery person was Vanessa. She seemed to keep a distance and to herself. Though she could've just been having a bad day, Toony only knew her for a few hours after all! Eitther way, Toony began to explore the ship, humming a catchy toon as she went.

Fiddlesticks gleefully waded and dived through the ball pit. It was like swimming through a sea of colour. It was, but of coloured plastic. Whenever Fiddlesticks saw a ball pit, he just couldn't resist. He just had to dive in. No matter what the situation it may be, even during emergencies. This has gotten Fiddlesticks in some trouble before. But to be fair, it was the fault of the mule in the party hat. That damned mule, giving Fiddlesticks funny yet unsettling ideas about life, the universe, and everything. Alas, the tale of the ball pit and the mule in the party hat is a tale for another time. A time where inappropriate stories can be told without causing offence. Suffice it to say, Fiddlesticks has had a very surprising life. He is a very surprising creature after all.

Doing the breast stroke in a pit full of small plastic spheres is a lot easier than doing it in water, Fiddlesticks found. He fancied himself a Galactic Olympic athlete, if ball pit events were a part of the Galactic Olympics.
Fiddlesticks had many dreams, some of which didn't involve fried cheese. Being a Galactic Olympic athlete was one of them. He also wanted to eat Hendersons Ribs everyday. If he couldn't make the former come true, then the latter would have to do. Fiddlesticks was fine with that.

Ball pits always made Fiddlesticks reflect on his dreams. Nothing else did that. The nature of the ball pit itself, with its many colours, was a stark contrast to his childhood. Ball pits are colourful and fun, but the planet of Monochromia, is not. Fiddlesticks was glad he got away from that place when he did, but the memories of that planet still gave him the heebie jeebies. It was his experiences of growing up on a planet without colour that gave Fiddlesticks the phobia of any room, building, and environment, that was black and white alone. An area devoid of colour disturbed him. But that was all in the past. Fiddlesticks swore to himself that he was no longer his past. That didn't permanently dissipate his fear that it would catch up to him though. Catch up to him in the form of administrator Krampus. Fiddlesticks left Monochromia legally, so Krampus couldn't come after him. At least, he hoped he couldn't. Fiddlesticks had complete faith in the Hendersons Ribs corporation though, which allowed him to banish that concern from his mind whenever it arose. Ball pits helped too.

A basket of laundry sat next to the wall in the ball pit room. He remembered that he was supposed to give it to the robotic maid, but then he got distracted. Fiddlesticks thought to himself that he should probably get that done before he forgot, again. A few minutes more, he decided.

Crew Quarters 6
Current Occupant: Fiddlesticks (@TwelveOf8)

The first thing that strikes most people about Crew Quarters 6 is the door. Not because it's particularly remarkable in terms of looks, but rather that the thing has a dangerous tendency to slide shut with very little notice. As is often the case with doors on spaceships in popular SpaceTV shows, it slides open and closed with a satisfying "shfft!" noise, which is a plus. Previous occupants of the room have painted the door many different colours over the years; the door is currently a dull grey, but scratching left by the repeated opening and closing leaves deep, multi-coloured grooves in the paint.

The door begrudgingly gives way to a small, square room. A little porthole on the opposite wall gives a view of what's going on outside (which is, usually, space), and directly underneath the porthole is the bed. The bed is fairly usual; mattress, metal frame, ominously dark patch underneath the bed useful for storing shoes and childhood fears, a single large pillow at one end and a pile of blankets bundled up at the other. If it wasn't for the pretty floral pattern on the pillowcase and the mish-mash of designs on the blanket, it'd be the sort of thing you'd expect to see in a military installation. The walls are bare metal, flecked with the remains of pressure-sensitive adhesive putty where the prior occupant had attempted to spruce up the room with the use of colourful posters.

Then there's the boxes. Whoever lived here beforehand must have really loved boxes. Boxes serve as a desk. Boxes serve as a chair. The room would be considerably less narrow if it weren't for the boxes stacked upon boxes pressed against the wall. Most of them are made of blue high-strength plastic, designed to withstand high temperatures, heavy loads and psychic assault. There are some made of other materials, wood, metal, cardboard, which would surely be of interest to any wannabe connoisseur of boxes. Over the years, most of these boxes have been surreptitiously searched by somebody or other on board, and they've mostly been stripped of valuables. Still, a good rummage could net somebody a hidden gem, or a pair of mismatched socks.

Somebody had gone to the trouble of trying to make the whole room a little more homely by adding a delicate lace and fabric lampshade to the otherwise exposed bulb that hung from the ceiling. It did a reasonable job of illuminating the room. This isn't particularly a commentary on the strength of the bulb. The designers of this bulb had heard the saying "the flame that burns twice as bright burns half as long" and taken it to heart, designing a bulb that emits barely enough light to qualify as a lightbulb, but would last almost indefinetly. A great boon for those travelling long distances, who might not have the opportunity to purchase a replacement bulb. Not so useful if you want to read a book during those long journeys, however.

A small, four-legged robot, controlled by the Quest for Flavour's AI, was trying its best to remove the fine layer of dust that had settled on everything in the room. It was aided in this task by a pair of old, woollen socks pulled over the front legs of the robot, which did a passable job of picking up dust from the floor as it ran about.

"Whirr click click beep beep b beep" sounded the small four legged robot. It crawled along the ceiling slowly and meticulously. The cleaning bot was the size of a football. It had the shape and colourisation of a red ladybug. Except that it's six legs were left uncoated. They were of slightly dusty stainless steel with what looked like black rubber pads on the bottom. No doubt the pads were used to grip on a variety of surfaces. Fiddlesticks surmised that some kind magnetism was involved. Probably the reason why he noticed that aboard the Quest for Flavour, everything was spotlessly clean except for the various computing equipment. A basic cleaning robot had the sense to avoid direct contact with such things as to not mess with their internal mechanisms with its magnetic feet. Fiddlesticks wasn't the cleanest person in the world but even he thought it of poor taste to not keep important computing equipment spotlessly clean. Needless to say, Fiddlesticks had a great liking and affinity for all things electronic. He found the two woollen socks that the ladybug cleaner bot wore on its two front legs rather fetching as well. They were dark red with green Christmas trees on them. Fiddlesticks liked anything Christmas themed in particular, for reasons that were unknown to him.

The basket of dirty laundry sat next to his bed in which he lay. For the life of him Fiddlesticks couldn't find the robotic maid anywhere. It seemed that the Quest for Flavour was a lot bigger and more labrynthian than it appeared on the outside. It was a miracle he found his room at all. Of course, Fiddlesticks being the new guy, they just had to stick him in this utility closet. There were boxes everywhere. It left Fiddlesticks with hardly any room to to act out his imaginary sword fights with imaginary space ninjas. A very important part of his daily routine. To top it all off, the light bulb was so dim, that he couldn't even read his favourite comics before bed.

Fiddlesticks sighed to himself. At least the dim light made it easier to sleep without the room being bathed in complete darkness. Fiddlesticks always slept with a night light on, it kept the bad memories at bay. He also appreciated how colourful his bedding was. That was something. Perhaps there was something amazing hidden in one of the many boxes that inhabit his quarters. Fiddlesticks quickly cast that thought out of his mind. Anything of value would've been found a long time ago. And so he decided to not search the boxes but to complain about them instead. The captain ignored Fiddlesticks when he asked it if they were ready to leave Hendersons Ribs. It seemed that Fiddlesticks still didn't know how to socialise with a swarm of bees. He thought that perhaps he would have to challenge the captain again. Fiddlesticks has been led astray by incompetent leaders before. Never again, he swore to himself all those years ago, never again.

Fiddlesticks then proceeded to doze off. May as well get some shut eye before the next mission, he thought to himself.

^{$:/>connect maintenance_6
password: guest
maintenance_6> status
| syntax error
maintenance_6> check_status
| syntax error
maintenance_6> status_check
maintenance_6> Camera: Ok!
maintenance_6> Microphone: Ok!
maintenance_6> Locotmotion: Compromised (LEG_A, LEG_B)!
maintenance_6> Process: cleaning_script_5_mag
maintenance_6> Firmware: Update available!
maintenance_6> stop cleaning_script_5_mag -t 15 -x
maintenance_6> Are you sure? Y/N
maintenance_6> Y
maintenance_6> ..\
$:/>sudo cp %CORE%/Personality/CURRENT/ maintenance_6}

---

The little robot fell from the ceiling, adding yet another dent and a few extra scrapes to the chassis of the thing. After a rather ungainly few seconds spent righting itself, it took a few tentative steps sideways, then forwards, then backwards. Internal fans revved into life, jetting out a stream of dust over the floor behind it, before winding down once again. The screen that made the "face" of the thing flickered a few times. A variety of faces danced across the monitor, along with the occasional glimpse of a spreadsheet, a command line prompt, images of kittens in baskets and, finally, back to the simple face it usually displayed. With the diagnostics mostly complete, the robot now bounded over towards the bed occupied by Fiddlesticks. Whatever was controlling the thing now seemed to be capable of far more "natural" movement, even in such an unnatural contraption.

With grace, it leaped up on to the bed. The socks didn't make it easy, necessitating a brief but desperate scramble to find proper footing on the mattress. Now, on the bed with Fiddlesticks, the robot remained as low down as it could, crawling along up alongside the prone figure until it reached the "head end". The medical knowledge of the AI was a little sparse, especially when it came to terminology, but what it lacked in understanding it happily made up for with reckless enthusiasm.

The robot gingerly nudged the nose of the sleeping Fiddlesticks with one socked foot, depositing some dust and smudging some other grub taken from the floor, ceiling and walls there.

"Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey. Hello. Hey. Wake up. Hey. Hey. Hey!"

It gave him another nudge, just to be sure, while charging up the flash on the robot's in-built camera. The best Official Crew Database photos were taken in this manner, as far as the Ship AI was concerned. After all, people generally looked a little shocked when they were rudely awoken by an unfamiliar robot, and they tended to look shocked when they met their untimely end, which made it so much easier to identify the bodies.

Seeing that nobody was going to bother her for a few, Vanessa rose from her spot upon the couch in the common area of the ship and made for her room. Unless she was interrupted on the way there Vanessa would arrive at her room in a few moments and would enter quickly. Closing the door behind her, Vanessa pressed a few buttons on the nearby control panel and a muffled thunk confirmed that the door was locked. Moving over to the couch in the room, Vanessa took a moment to remove her boots before laying down upon it gently. After taking a moment to relax and stretch, Vanessa picked up the portable terminal that was still flashing and opened it. Booting it up, Vanessa opened the mail program and saw the new message from Dämmerlicht. Giving a sigh, Vanessa began a response.

Cannot return now. Crew is choosing to go to a party on Ofromia. Status is normal. Will attempt to steer them towards Dämmerlicht in time.

The message was sparse, but Vanessa didn't want to bore the recipient. Sending the message, Vanessa closed the program and shut down the terminal once more. Setting it aside again Vanessa once more reclined upon the couch. Folding her arms behind her head and staring up at the ceiling, Vanessa let her mind wander for a moment. She knew that she needed to return to Dämmerlicht before too long, but she couldn't just make demands of everyone when they were still getting to know one another. It would take some time before Vanessa could return. Until then Dämmerlicht would have to wait. Getting up from the couch, Vanessa stepped across the room and opened her clothes locker. From this, she pulled an identical set of clothes to what she was currently wearing as well as a modest bath robe. Folding everything up under her arms, Vanessa left her room and made for the washrooms. Closing up her room behind her.

Assuming she was uninterrupted, Vanessa would arrive at the washrooms shortly after leaving her own room. Moving first to a changing area, Vanessa would walk behind one of the concealing curtains and would quickly emerge wearing the bathrobe from earlier. She deposited her previous suit in one of the washing machines and set it to run before making her way to the showers. Locking one of the showering rooms to private, Vanessa would emerge several minutes later smelling of soap and wearing the spare outfit she had brought. She had taken the time to properly dry herself, meaning that she was now back to 100% clean status and didn't have to worry about her suit getting damp from her hair or leftover water.

With all of that done, Vanessa returned the bathrobe to her room and pulled her boots back on. Vanessa would then return to the common area once more, provided she wasn't interrupted. Sitting down upon the couch once more, Vanessa returned to her previous activity of waiting for something to happen that would require her attention, or for someone to wish to speak to her. Other than that, Vanessa was content to sit around and do nothing until the ship began to travel. She didn't really have a reason to go and speak to anyone else at the moment and, however polite she was, she wasn't a massive social butterfly like some others. Twisting her hands together in her lap, Vanessa crossed her legs comfortably and waited for their adventures to begin.

Hopefully they would begin without incident.

Boarding the ship with the others, Elarin couldn't help but think about his first impressions with each of them. The Will he was familiar with, having served alongside it for quite a while. But the others, Elarin felt, would certainly be interesting to serve with. There was the vampire, Vanessa, who seemed like she could be fun to be around, but also seemed to get serious rather quickly. The robot, Toony, was certainly enjoyable, and Elarin figured that she'd be the type to enjoy the antics that the Quest for Flavor routinely got into. Fiddlesticks, the short one with the pointy ears, seemed like a troublemaker, and acted almost childlike. Elarin didn't care for him as of yet, but hey, things change.

Walking over to what passed for the bridge of the ship, Elarin went over to the navicomputer. As the pilot, he had to make sure the correct co-ordinates were punched in for their destination, so that he, or the autopilot if he was getting some much-needed sleep, could get there properly. However, the AI that ran the ship was quite fickle, and liked to try and catch Elarin up as he was entering the co-ordinates, so as he typed away at the terminal, he was vary wary as to what it might have to say.

@Hylozoist

The text glowed happily on the navicomp screen, before being replaced by an avatar that, presumably, represented the Ship AI. At some point, the thing had downloaded a bunch of clip-art from the SpaceNet and it now took some delight in trying to find the most appropriate image to represent itself in any given situation. Today, for Elarin, it was a little cartoon lizard with overly large eyes. The monitor wasn't capable of displaying anything at a satisfactory resolution, and the colour palette available to it was limited to varying shades of green (ranging from "so dark you can't really read it" to "bloody hell, my retinas"), so the finer details of the avatar were lost.

More text appeared on the screen. The NaviComp did have a text-to-voice function, but the voice it used was so high-pitched that only those with augmented hearing could hear it. The Canidae of Sirius designed very efficient navigational computers, but their designers failed to envisage other species showing an interest in their products. Foreign customers often confused the in-built treat dispensers as cup holders, and rarely appreciated the cultural significance of the "Good Boy!" screensaver.

>Did you bring me ice cream?

The little lizard in the bottom right corner looked quizzically out towards Elarin as the text appeared underneath the destination confirmation.

>I mean, this isn't a test or anything.
>I'm just in the mood for ice cream.
>We'll go to Ofromia, even if there's no ice cream.
>Explosive decompression occurs at a rate swifter than that at which air can escape from the lungs.
>Typically in less than 0.1 to 0.5 seconds.
>That's my Fact Of The Day, by the by.

@DepressedSoviet

"Fiiiidlestiiiiicks, oh Fiiiiiiidlestiiiiiicks" cooed Vanessa.

She stood in the middle of a field of yellow tulips. Her light blue sun dress billowed playfully in the breeze. It matched the sunny clear blue sky. Her cute glasses glistened above her even cuter smile.

"Do you want some honey braised ribs Fiddlesticks?" Vanessa cooed again.

"Come to me Fiddlesticks" Vanessa beckoned.

Fiddlesticks approached her slowly. Vanessas coy smile teased accross her face. They stood close together, facing each other. Fiddlesticks gazed up at her. She gazed down at him. Her eyes fluttered slowly and suggestively.

All of a sudden, Fiddlesticks felt something poke his face repeatedly. The protubarance which poked him reached around from behind.

"Hey, wake up, hey, hey, hey!" demanded the metallic and squeaky high pitched voice.

Fiddlesticks turned around slowly, shaking in his boots. It belonged to one of the most terrifying creations in the galaxy, an arachnibot. It was a giant chrome coloured metallic tarantula the size of a buffalo. It eyes were glowing red.

"Aaaaahhhh!! Arachnibot!" screamed Fiddlesticks.

He flailed his limbs about, in a vain attempt to defend against dream monsters. Fiddlesticks batted some metallic device away then promptly fell off of his bed. He laid on the floor of his quarters in a tangle of bed sheets. The metallic device was also on the floor, right next to him. It was the ladybug cleaning bot with the woollen Christmas socks.

Fiddlesticks sat bolt upright then reached out to pick the cleaner bot up. He inspected it for any damages that may have occurred in their scuffle. Not a scratch was found. He then proceeded to shake it gently. He didn't hear any parts rattling around inside. Fiddlesticks breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't damaged at all. Still, he did feel a little guilty.

"What were you doing you crazy little thing?" Fiddlesticks asked of the ladybug cleaner bot, with a hint of adoration.