Over the past 39 hours, the mad bomber spent most of his time in the ship's lab. Though Stryker had given the order to purge all the data from the Alliance Labs that they had levelled, Benny of course activated a sub-routine within his virus that copied data containing some keywords he had put in to make a copy of the relevant files before deleting/corrupting it. These small data fragments were saved on Skelly for him to review later, and as luck would have it he had found something that piqued his interest, with enough of its files saved for him to piece it together.

Apparently one of the side-projects the lab was working on was some kind of handheld tractor-beam device. Other than trying to see if he could reconstruct the rest of the data to make a viable blueprint for the device, he was also running simulations on his programs on skelly to see if it was possible to create a “Mag-Grenade” design from it; a handheld device that violently pulls objects towards it. Benny imagined he could make some creative chaos out of that, but it was mostly a theory. Yet, it was a theory he had spent a good portion of the last few days slaving away on. He had slept in the labs as well instead of his room, with nothing short of food and water needs forcing him out to the rest of the ship.

Still, he had an odd feeling that he had forgotten something. It kept creeping up on the back of his mind every now and then throughout the whole trip. He shrugged it off however, thinking that it can’t have been too important if he had forgotten it.

He felt the rumble of the ship when it had docked, but he paid little mind to it as he continued his little personal project. Stryker’s voice came on the comms right on schedule as they did, announcing that their crew had free reign to do as they pleased during their little break. The Scotsman internally scoffed at the notion of having fun out in a rowdy station, far too many opportunities to get mugged or stabbed in a back alley if one were to frequent the places that most criminals did. His idea of leisure was working with his tools. People and society are too complex and nuanced. At least physics and chemistry are known values that don’t change He thought.

A little later, he had gone out on one of his routine food trips to the ship’s kitchen. Spending a few minutes chowing down on some potentially synthetic meats and drinking from one of their citrus juices, he finished, leaving the used plates and glass on the table as he got up to return to his lab.

Stryker caught his attention on the way out. "Benny, how's it going man? Listen, how about you and me dodge out for a drink? I'm supposed to be meeting someone, wouldn't mind some backup in case it goes sideways,” their leader said.

Benny considered this for a moment, thinking perhaps some air would do him some good anyway, to keep his immune system from degenerating due to over-exposure to sanitized ship air. And some action may scratch the adrenaline itch that had been building up during lulls in between working on his project.

”Aye, why not? Where to? How much heat ya need me ta’ pack?” he asked, wondering how much he’d get away with hiding to wherever they were going.

@Crossfire

@Rultaos@TheEvanCat@ArkmageddonCat@iTem@Gardevoiran

"Nothin' fancy. In fact, come as you are, Skelly should be more than enough to handle the situation, if one arises."

A few minutes later, the pair had exited the ship and headed off into the jostling crowd, conversing lightly as they headed towards The Wasted Wormhole. In Stryker's experience, it was one of the better places on Helios to grab a drink, quiet, out of the way, never too busy, and usually avoided by the rougher crowds. It was also conveniently close to the docks, away from the hustle and bustle of the main throughfares.

As expected, the place wasn't very lively. Stryker's gaze was drawn almost instantly to a corner booth where he spotted Matija and Tib, apparently very deep in conversation. Stryker gave a cursory nod in case either of them spotted him and also to draw Benny's attention to it. A pair of bartenders stood on opposite ends of the bar, one was a human woman, the other was a robot. A trio of servers, two humans, one Xaanderosi, flitted around delivering drinks to the various groups sitting at the tables and booths. A man sitting alone at the bar, the only person in the place drinking alone, had to be the guy. Stryker headed over there and leaned against the bar, his elbows and forearms resting comfortably on the counter top.

"Sadaet, I presume? I'm Stryker. Let me grab a drink and we can talk business."
He grabbed the attention of the closest bartender, the human girl.
"I'll have whatever he's having, and get my friend here one as well. We'll be grabbing a booth, take 'em over there please."

"Hardest shit you've got. God's Bile, some milk, and a small glass, if that's around." Tibulass, despite having been clean from alcohol for a few decades, still knew a bit of the slang and some of the names of the worst liquor around the galaxy. Stuff that'll take you from 'able to drive' to 'emergency room' within a shot or two. It was outlawed in a few sections of the galaxy, but who cared? Certainly nobody on the Revenant, that's for damn su- oh?

Tibulass' attention was caught by a certain Mecorian snuggling up to her. That... that was a feeling that had been gone for a long time. Since the days of Jackson Rhodes, even. Matija asked the ex-berserker a question after she found the right position. “How’s it feel to have flesh an’ blood again?”

"It feels... weird I guess. When you've been dead for as long as you can remember, you lose memory of the blood and guts existing and all the admittedly horrible quirks they have. Plus..." Shifting her tone to something else, a tad flirty, a pinch playful, and a touch of sinister, Tibulass continued. "... I get to make up for my lost conquests, if you catch my drift."

Waiting for the drinks, Tibulass noted the appearance of a Stryker and a Benny in the bar. Damn, of all the bars they could've gone to, this was the one? Meh, maybe she can destroy Stryker and outdrink him. That'd be embarrassing. Hell, maybe she could get the Captain's Quarters for a few days. That'd be pretty cool. Regardless of what would go on in the future, Tibulass raised a hand a small bit and waved her index and middle finger at the two men, somewhat like a salute but not close to the face.

"Hey Matija, if you don't mind me asking, would this do anything for you?" On cue, Tibulass put her arm around Matija and pulled the girl a bit closer to her, a sneaky smirk appearing on her face.

@iTem@Rultaos@Crossfire@TheEvanCat

Another day in paradise...

Pax emitted an audible sigh as he readied another round of drinks for table nine and passed them on to the expectant waitress with a deflated "Here". She gave him a puzzled look and shrugged as she took the drinks, all the while he struggled to recall her name. A week since the last reset, and I still can't place it... He mused, returning to idly cleaning out dirty glasses. He glanced up as his fellow bartender was taking the orders of another two customers at the bar... when did they come in, again?

"Pax." Came a voice, though it seemed insufficient to jar the towering metal man from his thoughts. "Pax? You feelin' alright there, big guy?" The voice came again, a hand tugging at Pax's own. Finally the robot turned to see who it was that wanted his attention, only to find the freckled face of the manager awaiting him. Pax jolted to attention, offering a reply as quickly as he could manage. "Why, yes - of course, sir!"

"Everything good out here so far tonight? No incidences?" The manager asked, eyes darting around the bar.

"Yes, sir. The Wasted Wormhole is the place to be tonight! I calculate attendance is up by nearly-" Pax started before being cut off. "No no, that's enough, Pax. Keep it casual, loosen up. But... ah... it's been almost two weeks since your last incident, hasn't it? Keep up the good work, big guy!" The manager spoke, reaching to pat Pax as high on the robot's back as the man could manage before abruptly walking away.

"It... has? What happened?" Pax inquired, though his question went unheard and unanswered. "That was odd... even for a human." Pax noted and turned to look at his coworker, who was still busy fixing drinks. "Back to work then." He muttered to himself, grabbing a small hose and returning his attention to cleaning glasses.

Helios Station

Sadaet saw the two men out of the corner of his eye as they sidled up to him at the bar. They were punctual, at least. One of them was older, with a jarring scar across his face. The other one was younger, messier, with wild black hair: he smelled like explosive residue, which only mildly concerned Sadaet. He extended his hand out to the older one, who was in front. He introduced himself in an odd mix of British colonial accents: "Sadaet, I presume? I'm Stryker. Let me grab a drink and we can talk business."

He turned to the bartender, the human closest to the counter, and asked for two of Sadaet's lagers. He ordered them over to a booth, which he cocked his head towards. Sadaet let them lead the way, keeping them a few footsteps in front of him as he subtly touched the handle of his revolver one last time under his jacket. It was a characteristic tell: he scolded himself internally to stop doing that so much. The two men sat down at the table. Sadaet kept his back to the door, something he was uncomfortable with but did as a gesture of respect anyways.

The mercenary took a sip out of his beer and leaned back into the table. "So I read this contract that you sent me and the job sounds all well and good... even if it doesn't sound like much at all. I feel like there's some super secret squirrel shit you've got, which I can deal with. I haven't been able to find out much about you or whatever crew you flew into the station with."

Sadaet gestured to the women in the next booth over. "Those girls have some pretty phony signal signatures, I feel like they belong with you as well. Am I right? Or are there two groups of secret squirrels on this station. It's a pretty big posse you have rounded up. What's my role in it?"

@Crossfire @Rultaos

Harrison received a message form SA: to use his Focus to scan the parts and did just that. He willed it on and it did so, the alien tech projecting its trademark hologram reticle. The small ring appeared near his right ear while he asked, "I don't suppose you mind if I look a little closer, do you? Can never be too careful." As he was talking, he leaned in closer and scanned the pieces. Looks good, looks good. Could stand to get some sealant on the pipe, but it'll work. That tank looks like shit, but it's structurally sound so... eh. The wire isn't stripped, valves'll seal. Axles are good, so are the rotors and such. Harry tapped his foot twice. "Tell you what, it's eleven seven fifty and I tell you the biggest problems with your project over there." Harrison gestures over to the dented as hell catalyst.

Varrus gave himself a tour of the ship. It was...adequate anyway. After his brief personal tour and introducing himself to some of the crew members, he entered the medical facility and examined it's equipment. Glad I brought my own tools, these would never get the screams I want. He continued to examine the room. The quarantine chamber was in good shape and the operating tables were nice. The lights weren't bright enough to cause the new meat any discomfort though. He set his bags on one of the several counter tops. Should I put my equipment here or in my room? I suppose I'll leave the normal things here and take the rest to my room.

After unpacking his 'normal' equipment in the medical bay, he left to visit the vacant room closest to it. These rooms accomadate more than I thought. He took the time to get his 'fun' equipment out of his bag and organized. Time to get things started.

Varrus exited his room and headed straight toward the kitchen. Upon arrival, he introduced himself. Hello everyone, my name is Varrus and I am your new medical officer. Rest assured that I will be more than capable of taking good care of you. I wanted to help out around while I had no patients however and was wondering if I may volunteer to help prep meals for the crew. It must be difficult woth so fee cooks and so many mouths to feed. Varrus was proud of his speech, it sounded normal enough...he thought atleast. Talking to people wasn't his talent. Reluctantly, Varrus had to talk to people to get accustomed to his new life.

The chefs accepted his help and without delay, Varrus put his steady hands to work. One of the chefs even commented on his skills to separate and perfectly cut slices of meat. Varrus didn't posses the physical capability to smile but if he could he would. Well, I think it goes to show when it comes to it, I have more experience than anyone when it comes to cutting into meat. With those words spoken, Varrus was accompanied by the awkward silence he was familiar with. I'm just gonna get back to helping prep.

Following behind Stryker, they eventually arrived at the bar where they were to meet up with his contact. "The Wasted Wormhole" said the big glowing sign outside of it. Benny figured it sounded apt, given that places like this often suckered in the dregs that couldn't afford better bars. Stepping inside, the pair was greeted by the smell of alcohol, and the sight of two familiar faces in a corner of the place. Apparently Matija and the newly-born Tibulus was there as well. The viking-bodied girl gave them a small gesture before turning back towards Matija, getting intimately close with them.

Now Benny was starting to remember what he was forgetting. He and Matija were supposed to meet sometime after the mission to talk about a few things. It now occurred to him that they hadn't met up or spoken with them throughout the entire transit. He wondered what they were doing all that time, while at the same time feeling a small uncomfortable churning on his chest and stomach at seeing them out and about with one of the crew members that he still had yet to fully trust. He shook his head though and continued following Stryker to the bar.

There they met up with his contact, a tall man who ironically appeared to have originated from the Asian regions of Earth. Though knowing Earth's population he figured they were likely from a colony that had a strong Asian heritage, much like how Benny's own home colony carried much of the old Scottish genes and practices.

"So I read this contract that you sent me and the job sounds all well and good... even if it doesn't sound like much at all. I feel like there's some super secret squirrel shit you've got, which I can deal with. I haven't been able to find out much about you or whatever crew you flew into the station with." The man named Sadaet said. "Those girls have some pretty phony signal signatures, I feel like they belong with you as well. Am I right? Or are there two groups of secret squirrels on this station. It's a pretty big posse you have rounded up. What's my role in it?" He continued.

Benny raised an eyebrow at that as he looked at him. "Techie lad too, aren't ya? Guess this means I betta' start buffin' my personal systems in case ya start feelin' snoopy" He commented while waiting for Stryker to respond to the man to let them decide how much to reveal

@Crossfire @TheEvanCat

Matija saw movement and what seems to be a metallic hand at the corner of her eye, making her immediately glance towards it. Needless to say she found herself feeling less than thrilled at the sight of two idiots that she would rather not see at all.

“Hey Matija, if you don't mind me asking, would this do anything for you?” The gesture took her by surprise and made her sly expression break for a moment. When she had recovered, sh finally responds with a slight nudge towards the other woman.“Gotta do more than that to make me feel thinks, hun,” and added a small nose boop on Tibulass as the waitress earlier finally settled down their drinks. “Say, what’s your little thang about? Is it really that strong or are you just tryin’a say it to impress me?”

With a small wink, she pours herself and Tibulass a shot each. It’s an odd practice of hers to put shot drinks into pitchers but wouldn’t want it any other way. When they both had their drinks at the ready, be it the one that she poured them or the one that Tib ordered earlier, she raised her glass to her companion saying “Cheers!” before easily downing it with a smile. She thought to herself that the rest of the night should be easier with another person distracting her. She just wishes that the two idiots would remain out of sight so they can stay out of her mind or at least be quiet enough on their existence.



Koren didn’t really pay much attention to the sale as he busied himself eyeing other wares from other stalls. But the given price startled him. 12 was very generous for parts looking as old and under maintained. Sure it was lowered a little bit but the Juz’ found the price uncomfortably high.

“11,220 and my companion’s advice,” Koren interjected. “When did you get these, Sir? This engine series has been out for years,” the Juz’ said in a hushedly polite but confident tone. “Am I right to assume that you are selling us decade old ship parts? Surely the price had already lowered past its prime. If it’s not to your liking, I think I saw a newer one somewhere…”

@iTem@superservo27@Silver Carrot

"That's enough" SAL said to both his companions, authorizing the full 12,000 credits "We have no need to bargain while we have access to this account. Time is of the essence, the ship needs to be 100% operational within the next 15 hours, so both of you take the parts back and get to work."

As they headed off, towing the parts away in a pair of wheeled crates, SAL stayed put.

"I require something else. If you don't have it, I'll pay for information on where I can get a fully operational drone frame, humanoid-style preferably, one that's either had it's memory core and Mainchip database formatted or one that's never had an AI loaded into it. I also need a pair of Quantum Accelerators and at least 4 feet of mainframe cabling."

______________________________

@Gardevoiran@ArkmageddonCat@Rultaos@TheEvanCat

Stryker returned Tibulass' salute before heading over to the table with Sadaet and Benny. He waited patiently for Sadaet and Benny to finish, sipping away at his beer with an amused look on his face. Over eight months of dreaming finally about to become reality.

"You're right" he started simply "The two girls in the corner, they're ours too. Our whole crew will have similarly falsified signatures, because in the public eye, none of us exist. All of our information was redacted, classified and sealed up the minute the Alliance got their hands on us, press-ganged us into this fucking Project of theirs- Revenant."

He took a minute or two to quickly explain the basics of Project Revenant, stopping every now and then to take a drink, careful to not let his glass get too empty, lest a waitress sidle over and overhear anything he said.

"... so that's where you come in. You see, we had this rogue AI that installed itself aboard, Ren it called itself. Flew with us for a few months before it up and left, but it did leave behind a small part of itself, converted into a VI with very basic controls over some ship systems, but like I said before, no way to get fully inside the Alliance's surveillance and control subsystem."

He took a breath and lowered his voice even further, it was barely more than a whisper now.
"A few weeks ago, I filed a report to the Alliance that the Ren VI was decaying, causing electrical malfunctions throughout the ship, and that no one in the crew could do anything to fix it, so I recommended hiring a person like yourself, which they approved of obviously. That's when I reached out to you, because I've heard of your reputation, and your skill set is exactly what we need.... because that report was a lie. About a week before I sent the report, I went to Benny here, asked him to whip up a virus, masked as a software update, which I injected to the system and let it sit for a few days, just long enough to cause a bit of inconvenience, so I could send a report. On paper, you're being hired to strip out the VI and uncouple the AI Tower that's still hardwired in, but in actuality, I want you to find a way inside the surveillance subsystem and set up a kill switch, something to disrupt, burn out, and permanently destroy their surveillance. They've got a kill switch of their own set up inside our weapons system, so we can't turn on the Alliance no matter how much we'd like to. And I think that's really the root of the matter, I've grown pretty fond of these folks over the last few months, they're all good people, and I don't want to spend a minute longer than necessary under the Alliance's boot, being a glorified slave, doing all the dirty work for them, time to break free, and if the crew is willing to follow me, we're gonna make life hell for the bastards that did this to us in the first place, so what do you say Sadaet, you in?"

@Crossfire@superservo27@iTem

Qoorb was clearly not ready for a fair offer, and a silence ensued as gears desperately started to turn in their head. Business at this station was usually done by the customer starting low. 12,000 was honestly more than fair, and Qoorb wouldn't go a credit higher for fear of scaring them off. Also, it'd be wrong and greedy, they supposed. They were about to answer, when the others interjected and kept trying to lower the price, as well as offer them advice, and ask questions. Qoorb cleared their throat, their brow furrowing, and then spoke perfectly sound yet accented English, albeit quietly. The 'poor English' act was obviously a facade to frustrate customers before they started haggling so they've be more prone to give up.

"First of all, I know exactly what's wrong with my project here. I wouldn't be trying to fix it if I didn't have a plan. Right now I'm sealing all the joints so that I don't get shocked when I begin testing the internal sensors. There might be more than one problem with it. It is from a crashed ship, after all. It may have even been the cause of the crash, for all I know," they spoke to Harrison, deliberately not addressing his offer to tell them what's wrong, possibly out of pride, or maybe they simply preferred the challenge of finding out. They then looked Koren dead in the eye. "Yes, you probably did find these components new or slightly used by one careful owner somewhere in the marketplace. And they were three times the price if you're lucky. Your friend has the right idea." It was at that point when SAL paid the full 12k credits.

When the two more troublesome customers left and Qoorb's personal favourite of the three stayed, he started making new offers, probably behind his crew's back. The new items that he asked for weren't exactly common junk, and Qoorb didn't have any of them in stock, but they did know a fair few other vendors at this station. "Well, I'm just a scavenger but there are stalls that are run by small-time crooks who work for mobs and gangs, who sell...niche products such as quantum accelerators and drone frames. I can give you names if you're okay with the risks. As for mainframe cabling, you're best buying that brand new from a spool and cut to length, and this is coming from a scavenger so you know it's true. Secondhand mainframe cable...I wouldn't risk it."

"Hopefully it is. It's been a few years since I've taken a shot of anything like it," Tibulass chuckled. When the drinks arrived and Matija poured two shots of the drink she ordered, Tibulass took the second shot and downed it with one tip, placing the glass down gently. After a few seconds of silence from the berserker, she released a relaxed sigh before saying "... god I missed that."

The waitress came back shortly after the drinks were deposited, with a blunt apology that God's Bile wasn't available on the menu for the night. "Ah shit. Oh well, it's whatever." As soon as the waitress walked off, Tibulass spoke up again, pouring herself another shot in the process. "I got a bottle stored on the ship. It's in my small room under the cockpit." The shot was downed shortly after, with Tibulass placing the glass back down.

"You were a dancer before this bullshit with Stryker and all that, right? Tell me... have you ever had any electric clients?"

@iTem

The din of Helios Station’s docking bay was the sound of a thousand radios tuned to static. A keen ear could pick up a phrase or two here and there in alien tongues, but nothing real, nothing tangible. Kotze hardly contributed to the static as he strode quickly on light feet through the crowd, never even so much as brushing a shoulder. “-out, not sucked into...” Kotze overheard. Fucking spacers. He’d dealt with them for most of his life, which is why he was so tired of them. No matter where you went in the universe, spacers all had the same tired jokes, the same old stories. Like sailors.

The agent didn't need to look behind him to know there were two spooks mirroring his every move. He'd picked them up just when he finished his last assignment, just barely having been debriefed by his handler. Even then, he knew something was up. "Return to Center immediately." Agents worked for months, if not years, in the field, and recalling an operative from the Deadzone after only a month was unheard of. So he ran.

The time came for almost every agent. They all knew it. Burn a little too slow or a little too fast, you're gone. Kotze was almost surprised he'd made it as long as he had, burning the candle at both ends for so long. For two years, the spook worked with cold intensity, a terminal overdrive that made it painfully obvious to other agents his time was almost up. In a way, Kotze almost revelled in the self-destructive arc. It made him feel invincible, running the loosest and most dangerous ops no fresh-faced agent would dream of. Not the two punks trailing him, anyway. The seasoned operative was almost insulted they sent these amateurs after him, who were burned probably just hours after starting their tail. He thumbed the .45's grip in his coat pocket aggressively, the anger boiling in his chest with the desire to use it.

The crowd reeked of cheap liquor and unwashed bodies, out in space too long. Deadzone, dead end. Helios Station's shipyard was a haze of exhaust smoke that almost made it difficult to breathe, old-school local cruisers mixed in with the modern FTL-equipped behemoths. Kotze wasn't sure what his endgame was. Only a matter of time before the Agency brought him in, dead or alive, though didn't make much of a difference. Still, the agent wanted one last challenge. One last hunt. As the ships grew larger, Kotze's gaze fell onto an old man in a threadbare jumpsuit leaning against the railing with an outdated prosthetic arm, one of the ancient pneumatic ones. Old salt, probably in the first wave of human FTL. What caught his attention more than anything was the man's skin; patchy, scarred, and rough, it looked like the he'd been simultaneously burned, frozen, and stretched out in a vat of bourbon and left to dry. Spaced. Not for long, but long enough. Kotze wondered what his body would look like after 85 years of life. As the walkway ran out, he doubted he'd find out.

A third agent closed in. Then a fourth. Guess the Agency sent more after all, a nice little parting gesture. Kotze kicked himself mentally for not making them sooner, and now, his back against the cool metallic railing with a 25 foot drop behind him, he had a feeling he was losing his edge, but then again, he'd been on the run for over a week now with scarce few hours of sleep. Still, maybe they were right to can him. Two of the spooks were human, the others Jakmoz. They were all dressed like him, inconspicuously, a little clean cut for the location, but otherwise almost invisible. A human stepped forward, and Kotze recognized him as Nolan.

"Been a long time Kotze. How ya been?" He had an easy smile, a smile that didn't betray the gun in his coat pocket trained on Kotze's chest. It was almost a professional courtesy for intelligence operatives.

"Not too bad, Nolan," he replied, flashing a tired grin, tendons in every muscle tight as piano wire. Kotze knew if he drew now, he could knock out two of them, maybe three on a good day, but there was no winning here.

"Hey, we miss you back at Center. Why don'tcha come back with us, share a ride?"

Kotze shrugged. "Maybe, maybe. Hey, how's Colby doing? He's what, about five now?" Crawling skin was just an expression, but Kotze was sure he saw ants wriggling beneath Nolan’s flesh as the smirk faded. He saw a fist tighten in the coat around the gun. Leaked personnel file, a little parting gift. Nolan would soon be on the opposite end of where he stood now. Before he had a chance to fire, a primed Smart Mine detonated just as it left Kotze's hand. Flash. The massive bay went white for the five as the sensory pigments in the retinas fired on all cylinders. Kotze heard a shot ring out as he fell over the whining in his ears, and he wondered if his chest would sting once the adrenaline wore off, or if the round missed its mark.

The spook relaxed his body for the impact when he jumped off the ledge, and the duffel bag softened the fall, but the landing was still a bitch. The .45 jabbed into his ribs, and his meat arm took most of the damage, maybe a dislocated shoulder. Fucking mechanics should have just replaced everything, at the rate they worked, he bemoaned. His vision partially returned, Kotze jumped to his feet and scrambled to the lower decks of the docking bay, where maintenance on the ship's underbelly took place. He didn't have much time, his hearing coming back enough to hear four pairs of boots stomping down the stairwell. The underbelly was a disorientating swirl of red lights and hissing steam, low pipes and shuffling repairmen. Cargo shifted between hands, some legitimate deals, others under the table. The keel of an older frigate caught Kotze's eye. Pirate ship, judging from the lack of markings and age, perfect for him. Pirates might be rough, but they wouldn't be turning him in anytime soon. The Agency didn't put out bounties, instead preforming all their wetwork in house. No, he could deal with the pirates, as he had before. Kotze quickly retrieved his deck from the duffel bag and set to work on penetrating the ship's security system to learn more about the vessel. The intrusion countermeasures were surprisingly robust, military grade, way beyond anything a ship of this age would come equipped with. Tech-savvy pirates, who knew. A bead of sweat ran down his cheek as he punched away on the pad with his prosthetic arm at a mile a minute, crouched behind an empty box, but still not even a crack in the defenses. No name, no registry, nothing. If Kotze didn't know any better, he'd assume it belonged to the four agents now sprinting down the hallway after him. The adrenaline kicked back in, fight or flight. The hunted man darted up the cargo bay ramp, soft leather boots dead silent against the steel.

Kotze didn't have time to take in the ship's interior ambiance or check for occupants, opting to slip directly into the dimly-lit cargo bay and cram himself into a relatively-spacious metal crate. If he weren't so gassed, the image would be laughable; Kotze'd been in tight spaces before, but nothing like this. The thought occurred to him to check if the security system had an intruder detection program, but hell, he couldn't even penetrate the second layer of defenses. No, he'd just roll the dice, like he always did. Kotze's eyelids felt like lead, and fell like it too despite the ringing in his ears.

"Used ta dance, yeah. Electric customers? Not sure. I danced in them faraday cages though." Matija chuckles and makes herself another shot before placing a wandering hand on Tibulass' thigh and giving it a knead. With a tilt of her head, she downs the thing and sighed at the taste. "Thing stings but it's so tasty. Heheh... So why'd ya decide to invite me in such an opportune time?"

“Well, I figured if I was gonna get drunk, I’d get drunk with someone who could hold their liquor,” Tibulass said bluntly at first before following up with a “Plus, you’re the only one on the ship I can tolerate in large doses. Stryker gets on my nerves, somehow.” Tibulass poured her another shot before downing it. “The real question is, why’d you come? I’m not the most fun person on the ship, not by a longshot.”

Matija was taking and refilling her shots on rapid succession but she seemed like she didn’t care for it. “Yeah well, I can make it fun if I need to, yeah? Heh. Besides, I needed to get out of the ship. Got too stuffy for me. Being in a coma, getting outta it, an’ everythin’ makes a girl itch for certain things. Ain’t one to be caged.” With a wink, she drinks what seems to be her 5th shot in less than 20 minutes. She then looks up at her companion and bats her eyes at her with a slightly dopey smile.

“But I’m sure that you’re not as bad as you think you are, old man. Though I thought that you were more fond of bein’ a guy than a girl, not that I’m complaining.”

“When you’ve been dead for a while, you take what you can get,” Tibulass poured another shot for herself before her speech slurred just a little bit. “... and I feel ya’ on the coma and shit. Livin’ without life was really just bland.” Without a second thought, Tibulass threw back the shot and coughed a bit before stopping and batting her chest. “F-fuck that went down wrong. Good as hell but it’ll fuckin’ end you going down sideways, eh?”

The berserker looked at Matija with a darker glance before poking her in the collarbone, a shock being sent to her body as contact was made. It wasn’t enough to hurt, but it was just enough to feel it’s tantalizing sting. “Poke.”

The Mecorian let out a startled gasp when she felt the little zap and instinctively felt for the affected area. “Heeey...” she said with a pout. “How rude of you, Mister bones. You know I cain’t retaliate like that. But…” she rubs the Viking’s inner thigh, just by the crotch, and gave it a squeeze, prompting a moan from the Viking. “If yer willing to, I might be able to make ya feel a different kinda tingle.”

“Mister?” Tibulass backed up with a chuckle. “I think you mean mistress, there.” She leaned onto Matija gently and put an arm on her opposite shoulder, pulling her close again and lightly jabbing a finger of hers into the Mecorian’s chest, sending a small shock through her once again. “It’s been some time since I’ve gone that far, but I’m not opposed.”

“Just because you’re in a girl’s body don’t mean that you cain’t be something or someone else,” Matija chuckles before the zap where she finds herself gasping again. “Hey now. That’s a bit too much, honey.” She says with a serious voice. “But. If you really wanted to…” She says with a glance and a gentle touch on Tibulass’ hand. “I’m pretty sure the Revenant’s scarce of people right now. Wanna finish what we have an’ get that secret stash o’ yers?” By now, Matija had decided to clumsily sit between the larger woman’s legs where the reduction of grace was likely an effect of the alcohol. She took the viking’s hands into hers and then placed them atop of her thighs. “Feelin’ a li’l tingle near here too. If we hurry, we might be able to do something about it.”

“Well, there’s no time to lose then, is there?” With a smirk, Tibulass leaned in forward and gently bit on the Mecorian’s neck, making her shudder, before letting up and pulling her in for a tight hug. “... how much you wanna bet I can carry your ass outta this bar and all the way to the ship, bridal style?”

“Pfft! Struggling or not?”

“We better hope not.” With an easy lift, Tibulass put Matija to her side as she stood up. Lowering her hand down for the girl, she smirked. “I’m gonna try it, but I’ll need to to stand up first.” When the waitress came by once again, the viking simply pointed to Stryker as she said. “The guy over there is our boss, he’s payin’ for our drink.”

“Oooh. Fast thinking,” Matija quipped as she took Tibulass’ hand and stood up as gracefully as a newborn foal. The alcohol that she carelessly took prior finally hit her all at once that her legs ended up buckling underneath her. Thankfully Tibulass was basically an oak next to her. “Guess I gotta take that offer of yers.”

The Mecorian waited for the waitress to leave as she scanned the place. Once in the clear, she pulled Tib by the collar of her jumpsuit and kissed the viking. It was intended as a simple peck but the siren found herself enjoying the tingly sensation on her lips and tongue.

The viking blushed as she grabbed Matija by the hips and pulled her up into the air, quickly bringing an arm under her legs in order to properly carry her bridal style. “Damn, I didn’t expect to be this strong. Anyway, we should probably move before my legs buckle like yours did.” With a quick kiss on the dancer’s forehead, Tibulass carried the giggling Matija out of the bar and started off towards the Revenant.

A rogue AI? Countersurveillance? Sadaet mulled the proposition while we sipped his drink. Messing around with Alliance equipment was messy at best: they usually hardened their equipment with all sorts of capabilities. Sadaet didn't even know what he didn't know: he never worked for the Alliance, he never held a security clearance. He'd have to figure out all this out before he ever started to tamper with a system. But the money Stryker was offering was good and he figured that this would be the best opportunity he had. Otherwise it's back to running electronic warfare ops with various mercenary groups, some of whom may or may not want to let him go after his services are complete. That's usually how it went in the rogue mercenary market, especially among the more criminal elements.

He sighed: "Okay, well that sounds like a good plan. Ballsy, but at least it's reasonably thought about. The technical aspects of it are going to need some working on. I'm sure if the surveillance goes out they're going to ask questions, and that will just unravel the whole thing. So we can't go around smashing cameras and shit. So we've got to do it carefully, holding it off until you finally can break free and run for it."

He whipped a pen out of the pen pocket on his jacket sleeve and scribbled a quick diagram on a nearby napkin. "Don't worry, I'll destroy this," he said. He scratched out a ship and drew a few arrows to different components. As he wrote, he talked: "We have a hardware problem, which is obviously the systems consisting of sensors and shit. And the software problem, which, I don't know because I haven't seen it, but I can assume everything's all layered together into some sort of intermeshed fuck fuck game. So we're dealing with coordinate systems, because we're going to want to spoof our location and our routes. Communications, making sure those are set up to match our coordinates. Other stuff too like checking us into ports when we 'say' we land there. Making sure the AI gets 'fixed.' All this stuff."

He leaned back and scratched at his beard. "I'm down though," he said with a nod. "I can go back, check out of my hotel, and bring my shit over to your vessel. Which is where, by the way?"

@Crossfire

It was dark when Henry collapsed on the carpeted floor of the study, knocking the objects off the desk. He writhed, as if millions of tiny insects were gnawing at him, shredding away his skin. He'd been feeling tingly all day, but he assumed it was just because of blood loss from the night before, so he'd hooked himself up to an automated blood pump. He was wrong. The Retvvnd had slipped in through a cut.
Henry attempted to scream, but he found that he could no longer control his voice, so he pummeled the floor until his arm turned against him too. Within minutes his arms were banging his head against the corner of the desk. Flaps of skin were falling to the floor, but he felt nothing. Nothing...

No-longer-Henry decided to stay on the floor for a second while it took its jacket off to bandage its head. It hauled itself up using the desk, then said "Ugh... Fuck it's been forever since I've been human. Oh wait we can do this.". He plugs the blood pump into his forearm and sits. Alright... enough sitting. I've got a job to do. and get paid for., he thinks. He wheels the chair to the desk and double taps the desk face to open up the Holo-computer, and waves his hand upwards to open the business bank account. Fingerprint authorisation?, he bursts out laughing, And here I thought they'd have security. He presses his finger to the desk, and a screen opens on his left. He browses a bit before dropping half a million credits into the local crime boss' account, dropping Henry's company into bankruptcy. Oh that's gonna piss of somebody in the command chain, he chuckles to himself. He closes the banking screen and taps a quick message to his contractor, who is the owner of a business that competed with Henry's. He took care of a few more things before getting up and stealing one of Henry's speeders, a rather attractive M-70 Mutiny. Well now to tie loose ends.

He decided he'd make a stop before finishing his errand. A small arms shop on a filthy corner, which may or may not have missed the pistol and small shielding unit he stole. When he arrived home, he made sure the pistol was in working order. The Retvvnd could feel Henry resisting every step towards the door, but at this point his resistance was comparable to that of a 4 month old child's. Ironic.

Four months later he was forced to join some Project Revenant. It sounded fun, so the act was maintained up until now, when he stepped onto the Helios station.

"I need two Blue Wraiths and a Laraxian Swirl, Pax!" One of the servers announced, prompting the mechanical bartender to set aside his cleaning duties and start fulfilling the order. Some nights were more chaotic than this, though he still disliked having to drop what he was doing no matter how slow the night moved. The two Blue Wraiths were easy enough to concoct, as they used a rather simple recipe known for producing a signature bluish glow, but the Laraxian swirl would take more time to get the right mix and presentation.

Pax had just slid the both Blue Wraiths over to the server and retrieved a tall glass to start on the next drink when the door opened, and several more people filed into the bar. As the glass filled up with a foamy green liquid, a taunting voice called out to Pax from behind. "Oi, you! Rust bucket!"

Pax didn't turn away from his work, and kept filling the glass, though the name calling didn't stop. "Ya stupid walking dishwasher, I'm talkin' to ya! Oi! Ya got a bolt lose er somethin'? Where's your owner, what's 'is name... Charaukk? We'd like a word with 'im!" They continued, taking to throwing something at the back of Pax's head when he failed to respond. "Surprised t' see he still keeps ya 'round as useless as ya are."

The robot bartender finally set down the glass he had been filling, making and audible thud on the counter as some of the foamy liquid spilled out onto the counter, and turned around to face the name-caller. It was some kind of alien with a stupid grin and a stupid face, whatever kind it was, accompanied by another alien of conceivably the same filthy breed wearing some kind of cloth face mask.

"Charaukk isn't here today, so if you're looking for him I'd suggest you go on and fuck right off." Pax stated with a low growl, which served only to frighten off the other bartender. The two thugs standing before him laughed, and the one standing to the side grabbed hold of Pax's arm and pulled himself closer. "Don't think he won't scrap you and sell you for spare parts in a heartbeat, he will! Tell us where he is!"

Pax then instinctively clamped his metal fingers around the offending specimen's throat, turning him around and dragging his body on top of the bar. The other thug yelled out and panicked, trying to wrench the towering robot's arms away from his friend to no avail. "Would you like a drink, sir?!" Pax declared maniacally, grabbing the tall glass containing the unfinished Laraxian swirl and slamming it down on the face-mask of the second thug, cutting off his access to air and essentially waterboarding him. It also provided the additional benefit of muffling his screams, though the name-calling thug got louder in his stead.

A moment later a chair collided with Pax's head, sending the machine stumbling and releasing the face-mask wearing thug from his grasp. Catching himself on the counter behind him, Pax regained his footing, knocking over several cups and glasses in the process and launching himself over the bar. The first thug moved behind the enraged robot bartender and jumped up on his back, wrapping his arms around the machines neck in an attempt to keep him on the ground. "Get up, Yaatu! Shoot the bastard!" He yelled to his friend, whom was still coughing sputtering as they drew a pistol from within their coat. Pax saw the weapon and panicked, grabbing at the body on his back until finally his hands clamped down on a jacket and he could wrench the thug off of him.

With the fleshy restraint removed and set down upon a table, Pax tackled the gun-wielder and slapped the weapon aside just as a shot rang out. Though, before the mechanical fiend could finish the fight, the manager yelled at him to stop. "NO, PAX! STOP!"

"But, sir, these are... dangerous... thugs..." Pax started to explain as he realized that people in the bar were screaming and fleeing, and that some unfortunate bystander had been killed by the gunshot.

"Stand down, Pax! The authorities will handle this!" The manager shouted, holding out his hands in desperation despite knowing how powerless he was.

"But, I-" Pax started again, though the manager was unyielding.

"Get in my office, now, Pax!"

Pax reluctantly backed off of the thug, Yaatu, but did not stand. He glanced over at the gun laying on the floor before glancing back at the bar owner, mulling over whether or not he wanted to sit around and wait to get crucified for his actions. The answer was simple and succinct no. He reached for the gun and quickly pointed it at his boss, whom raised their hands in fear.

"Now... Pax... don't do this, put the gun down and let's just talk... you're malfunctioning again..." His boss negotiated with a shaking voice, taking a few slow steps back.

"You stay right there, and shut up! I don't know what those thugs wanted from Charaukk, but I won't take punishment for doing my job! I'm his bodyguard, the ungrateful bastard!" Pax screamed, squeezing the gun hard enough that he pulled the trigger.

His manager stumbled frantically, and out of shock Pax fired again. The frail human fell backwards, blood leaking from his wounds as his head smacked against the floor. Pax turned away and looked at the gun in disgust, mumbling quietly to himself in a quivering voice. "Why did I... I-I didn't want to do that... it's not my fault..." Pax trailed off.

@Xandrya@Gardevoiran@Silver Carrot@Rultaos@iTem@BKburke@superservo27@t2wave@ArkmageddonCat@Strange Rodent@TheEvanCat@Vampire Stepdad@sntabe@Damo021

SAL took the information about the potential drone dealers and thanked Qoorb by transferring over an extra 1000 credits before bidding the scavenger farewell. The robot carried on about it's business and within an hour, he was returning to the ship with a push-cart containing his new acquisitions, fists only slightly tinged with a green blood smear from a Tragladarian who got in his way. The cart rolled silently up into the cargo bay and SAL pushed it over to the far corner. He noticed Koren hard at work through the engine room window. Harrison was nowhere to be seen, probably off cooking sustenance for the other fleshbags. The Tobi situation would have to wait just a little bit longer- Stryker's orders had been clear, the ship needed to be ready by the morning.

------

"We can discuss the more technical aspects of it all later, but yeah, great to have you aboard. I suppose now's a good time to mention there's a line in your contract, the one the Alliance will want you to sign, about also being part of the ground team during combat ops. There's hazard pay included and all that, but like I just said, no need to get into all of that now. Get your stuff and meet us at the ship. C-Dock, berth 15."

As Sadaet headed off, Stryker sat back in his seat to finish his drink. Benny had a bit of a dumbfounded look on his face, like he truly couldn't believe what he was seeing as he stared across the bar. Stryker turned to look and nearly spat his drink out as he saw Tib carrying a giggling Matija in a full-on bridal carry, moving swiftly towards the exit. The look on Stryker's face was probably pretty similar to Benny's as he spun back around in his seat and reached for his beer.

"Well" he said, tipping up his glass to finish the drink "That was... unexpected."

Stryker and Benny sat there in silence, each processing what they had just seen. The complete lull in conversation gave a waitress the opportunity to sidle over and speak.

"Excuse me sir, but before they left, those women in the corner booth claimed to be your employees? Said that you'd be paying their tab?"
Stryker sighed and cracked a smile, still in disbelief even as he reached for his datapad to transfer the credits "Of course they did."

"Is that a.. problem?"
"No no, it's fine. That is to say, I do know them. Here you are." He finished up the transfer, including a bit extra as a tip for the poor girl's trouble, then went back to sitting in silence. Both men still surpringly speechless, I mean, what do you say after seeing that happen before your eyes?

A situation seemed to be unfolding down at the counter, at last something to distract their attention. To Stryker it looked like the robotic bartender was calmly dealing with a pair of loud and disorderly patrons when it suddenly snapped into action. Stryker watched on in awe as the robot handily fought off the aggressors, despite being outnumbered. He had signaled to Benny to not interfere, but when the gun came out and people began running, Stryker dove to the floor, reaching for the pistol tucked into his boot, but still, the robot took care of business, although sadly, there were a pair of casualties when the dust finally settled. As he watched the robot stand still in the middle of the carnage, an idea came to his head. Stryker approached the robot carefully, his hands up to clearly show he was unarmed.

"Excuse me a second" he said cautiously "You handled yourself well there. I was pretty impressed. And sorry if this seems insensitive, but it seems like you might be in need of a new job now. One where you could put those skills to use. My ship can always use an extra pair of hands if you're interested."

"I... I did?" Pax responded, slowly lowering his gun arm before looking back at the bodies around him. "Well... I suppose joining you might be the best thing for me. Though... I have a few things to take care of while I'm at it." He continued, heading for the door and stopping in the doorway. "Oh! And where can I find your ship when I've... taken care of my things?"

Stryker told him where the ship was docked and they shared a quick introduction before parting ways, agreeing to chat later about payment and the like. Once he made sure all their drinks were paid for, Stryker (and Benny) left the bar to return to the ship, all in all satisied with the events of the night.

The Next Morning....

Stryker woke early, it was just after 7am local time. He'd have slept a little longer, but his datapad starting chirping that oh-so familiar chirp, a message from the Alliance. He rolled over in bed and stretched out to grab the small tablet, squinting with the glare of the words on the screen. Still half-asleep, he skimmed through the correspondence, mumbling aloud.

"Two more recruits, transported separately, communications transponder codes, mhmm, dossiers attached, blah blah blah, official bullshit, this message will self-destruct, ok."

A few minutes later, Stryker pulled himself out of bed and trudged into his bathroom to splash some water into his face. He got dressed and wandered down to the Crew Deck, to see if anyone else was up yet and to make a pot of coffee. The captain was pleasantly surprised to find that Harrison was already there, whipping up enough breakfast for the entire crew.

"Morning" Stryker said, crossing the kitchen floor to fetch himself a cup of coffee "Might wanna throw on a little extra, just got word that we'll have two more joining us before we take off in a few hours."

----

Grayson groaned lowly as the thump-thump of a monster headache roused him from his slumber. The toll of having a good night like the one he and Amy had just shared. There was a faint smell of food cooking wafting into the slightly ajar door of their room. His right arm was curled up around her midsection, and he could feel in her breathing that she was either waking up or already awake.

"Mornin' love" he managed to rasp out, his voice gone from all the cheering he'd done during the holo game "You gettin' up yet or did ya wanna stay in bed a while?"

-------

SAL walked out of the engine room, his feet clanging loudly on the metal grating of the landing. He had just completed the final repairs of the engine, though he'd resolved for the Juz' to wake up before running any advanced diagnostics. The robot walked down the stairs to the cargo bay floor and walked over to the push cart holding the spool of mainframe cabling and the crate containing the new drone frame. He had just grasped the handle to wheel it over to the elevator when his audio sensors picked up a faint noise from the opposite end of the cargo bay floor. The ramp had been closed all night and SAL was the only living being (figuratively speaking) in the cargo area.... or was he? A quick optic-thermo scan picked up a heat signature from an industrial-size ammo crate. Fearing vermin, or worse, another stowaway, SAL retrieved his shotgun from the hidden compartment in his leg and approached the crate, gun at the ready. He swiftly hauled open the top of the crate and shoved the barrel of the shotgun into the face of a cowering human who wasn't supposed to be there. With one hand, SAL grabbed the man by the collar and dragged him out, dropping him roughly on the floor beside the crate.

"Stay there, and don't move." SAL uttered before pinging Stryker's comms unit.

"... nngh..."

What a night that was. Tibulass woke up with a groan, still tired despite definitely falling asleep last night. Glancing over at the bedside table, which was just a shelf next to the bed, the bottle of the infamous God's Bile was opened, and sadly it was about half-empty. That was depressing, though it did raise the question of how much the girl drank last night. She certainly didn't feel entirely good, but she did feel tingly all over. Looking over at her side was none other than Matija, halfway covered in a sheet. She clearly didn't care to be covered last night. Speaking of those sheets... they were red in a few places?! What the hell?!

Panicking a bit, Tib looked down at her legs before noticing the many bite marks along her thighs. A few of them had dried blood trailing away from them. That's probably what caused the sheets to redden. Ah well, they could be cleaned. Both of the girls had a fair amount of evidence on their body of the night before, ranging from bites to hickeys, but nothing permanent could have occurred. Though... there was one spot that didn't look so good on Tib's chest, next to her shoulder. That, right there, was a prime example of a good time.

Sniffing the air, Tibulass patted the girl beside her while running a hand through her hair. "Hey girlie, wake up," the viking said before shaking her gently. "We need to go shower, we smell like sweat and liquor. Let's go steal Stryker's big ass shower, eh?"

@iTem

There was an awful ringing in the air when the siren finally came to. A nudge and a muddled voice greeted her morning when she grasped enough of lucidity to even process what she’s experiencing. She had been sleeping face down when she woke and the first thing that she notices is the taste of iron on her lips and the dull pain of everywhere and everything. Matija groans and turned her head to the side to look at the voice and realized that she was sharing the bed with… Tibulass?

The thought jostled her awake, making her bolt upright and hiss from the pain of sudden movement. But between the pain and ringing in her ears she still caught the “...steal Stryker’s big ass shower,” to which she nodded in approval despite her body screaming at her to keep still and stay down, plus the knots welling up in her stomach at the thought of contact. “Y-yeah… We should. Does he lock it? Ain’t good with electronic locks,” she says as she smiles with her teeth.

With some difficulty, she managed to put on her clothes from last night. It also took her some effort to walk and sneak past everyone towards Stryker’s cabin door, pick said door, and grant them access into the shower where she pulled the viking in with a languid smile. Leaning towards the other woman, she mumbles “Looks like you handled last night better. Help freshen me up? Not too loud now. These ears are sensitive.”