Lotta sudden changes going on today. One moment Lionel's trying to help Gideon get some medical treatment, three loud bangs later and suddenly there are three people dead, two of whom he almost kind of liked. He wasn't entirely sure what the whole situation was, but now they were dead so it didn't matter anymore as far as he was concerned. Still, he couldn't help but feel like he had ended up walking in on the climax of the final movie in a trilogy. At least Gideon wouldn't be passing out any time soon after that.
~~~~~~~Timeskip~~~~~~~~~~
Lionel stifled a yawn as he stood around in the Alliance ship's Conference Room. After dropping off Gideon at the Med Bay with Dorothy, he didn't really have much to do, and most of the ship felt hostile towards his very presence. A meeting was the last thing he wanted to sit through at the moment, but he had little choice in the matter. He blamed this entire situation on the Reavers and just added this onto the long list of reasons to hate them.
Carla Lobo
Location: Outside
Carla spent the entire conversation silent, and still as a rock. It was evident quickly that violence wouldn't be necessary to resolve the situation, which was yet another shitty occurrence for what should have been a good day. However, when the guns opened fire, some of the blood from ex-Captain Quinn splattered all over her. She reached out and touched her face and her fingers came back smeared crimson with blood. Something told her that she should be shocked from this event. Gregory was one of the few people who would deign to admit her as a friend. The warmth on her fingers quickly faded away, and she found she couldn't force herself to feel anything that wasn't there. She returned to the ship unfulfilled.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Carla returned to her quarters to strip back down to her standard gear and figure out what she was going to do. Gene being on the ship was both a good and bad thing. On one hand Genevieve would be easily accessible, on the other she would learn a lot of things Carla would have rather kept secret. On top of that, Carla was feeling really pent up and Genevieve's presence only exacerbated impulses that were difficult to hold back already. Mental strategies for self-discipline were cut off early by the announcement for all personnel to meet up in the conference room. She was by no means required to actually go, the announcer was crew of a now defunct Firefly ship and even if it was someone from the Alliance, she didn't work for them. Still, she went to the conference room anyways. She didn't want to miss out on any other information and end up caught off guard by another set of ill-fated encounters. The assassin stepped into the room dressed in only her Agency uniform, but still very well armed, just not brazenly.
Everything happened so quickly. One minute the crews were glaring at one another, and the all hell broke loose and three people were dead. Daphne felt terrible that things ended the way that they did, although the shaky conversations lasted longer than she thought. She didn't know if anyone would die, she only knew that shots would eventually be fired.
When they boarded the Alliance vessel, she felt strange because she ended up not being the main person flying it. She didn't trust the pilot, but figured that he probably knew how the vessel handled better than she did, so she tried not to complain about it too much. Daphne tried to stay out of the way as much as possible, and she found herself with nothing to do. She was relieved when Anisa asked them to head to the Conference Room, and she headed there without hesitation. She was curious as to what this was all about.
Location: Vengeance Landing Site - Conference Room
It all happened so fast. She was sure the others felt the same, but in that moment she felt she could have done little to stop the events. She could still feel the warm blood on her skin from Camilla. Jackson and Quinn also falling rendered her mute. It was the first time in a long while that Gene was stunned into silence. She urged herself to move, to go see if anyone needed help, but she couldn't. It brought her back and that was something she wanted to avoid. It took a good minute, but she shook herself back and followed her Captain's orders. However, she kept an eye on Anisa. What just transpired couldn't just be brushed off, even if the Captain hated Camilla's guts.
She helped wherever she was needed, grabbed her own supplies from her shuttle, and proceeded towards the Alliance vessel. She'd been in a few before, but it still felt weird considering she spent a good amount of time on board a Browncoat vessel. Now she was being situated with them.
She could feel the eyes of the Alliance crew on her. She wanted to put their minds at ease, but it wasn't the best time. She wasn't in charge and had no authority on this ship. She had to remember to speak to...whoever was Captain now, to see if she could help. They all just lost someone on their ship and even the most badass of space pirates needed to sit down and talk every now and then.
Once Gideon was situated in the Med Bay, she followed the others to the Conference Room. She went inside and sat down, not next to anyone particular. Though she eyed each of them carefully. She wondered what would happen next.
Location: Retribution Medical Bay ---> Retribution Conference Room
If it had not been quite so easy to slip back into routine and manage an Alliance medical bay, Dorothy's mind perhaps would have been reeling from the events of that day. Her good friend, Camilla, had been murdered. An old friend, now estranged, had been killed as well. And then Jackson, the man who never quite trusted her, had joined the deceased too. There had been so much bloodshed, yet Dorothy could not postulate as to whether or not it had been unnecessary. Her mind was too focused on the tasks at hand--the care of the wounded.
Gideon's condition was being improved, thankfully. Dorothy had taken the scans she needed and made the appropriate adjustments to treatment. Others with injuries were being tended to, and for a moment, Dorothy found herself at peace. The medical resources of the Alliance were impressive, and it did help that she already knew her way around the Alliance organization system for medical bays. She pulled her hair back, fixing the bun she had secured it in. The stress of the situation seemed to be dying down, allowing for tensions and rivalry to flare up again.
Truthfully, Dorothy couldn't help but be slightly surprised about the outcome--with the Alliance ship under Browncoat control. It wasn't something that happened all too often--that the Alliance and the Browncoats set aside differences. The two sides hated each other traditionally. But here they were, with Anisa declared Captain, and an Alliance boy flying the ship.
It was strange, to say the least.
Dorothy did a quick check on all of the patients in the medical bay, with the ones in more serious conditions having their vital signs monitored by machines. For the moment, things seemed calm enough for her to head to the conference room and join the others in the meeting. She pocketed a communicator, and left instructions for someone to alert her with it if she was needed before the meeting ended. With that in order, she left the medical bay, and headed to the conference room, having already slipped back into her old military posture.
"No, I retract my previous statement." remarked Foy, to absolutely no one. He hadn't the time to return to the Retribution before the shots rang out across the barren countryside of Whitefall. "THAT is a fine How-Do-You-Do..." Just as much as he would have loved to switch his rifle to full auto and spray the entire group into so much red, steaming confetti, the fact that Quinn was a corpse made the wording of his present contract highly unclear. Foy did not work with Highly Unclear. And it was a condition that would allow him to ethically break his Alliance contract with partial payment, if he so chose.
But he meant what he said earlier. The sudden examples of mortality didn't change the fact that Reavers were on their way, and deathly soon. "Well, wǒ de xīngxīng hé huāhuán..."1 A mild wind picked up, fluttering his very fine coat about him and revealing more of his tailored charcoal-grey suit. He pitched his voice louder, "I say, ladies, gentlemen... does this mean you do not wish to board our boat?" He waved them onward. "Come along, then. Time waits for no one."
The gentleman of action (and hot lather) disassembled and stowed his Callahan Full-Bore Auto-Lock back inside of his quarters. No sense in carelessly slinging a larger weapon with the potential of manifesting a hull breach. He maintained his other armament, apparent and less so, on his person. The most obvious of those being his matching Colt revolvers in a gunslinger's belt and extra large straight razor in a custom leather sheath. He wasn't about to offer the brunt of his hospitality until things smoothed considerably. They didn't know each other; just because they no longer had anything pressing to fear from him (as he was no longer rigidly bound by paper contract), didn't mean he had no concerns with them. Especially after the whole "murder chain" event that occurred while his back was turned. You can believe that the dapper fellow engaged the locks on his quarters.
Eventually, Foy found himself standing near to the aftmost doorway in the Conference Room. "I say, after this unpleasant show of establishing hierarchy and setting our plans to (preferably) not do one another injury, anyone wishing a cut, style, shave, or follicle update, perhaps a Core styled coffee and wrapped candy, please do find your way back to my parlor. I have been assured by the previous administration that it will remain a neutral oasis - one I hope the present administration will maintain. His voice lowered a bit with the last few words of his utterance, but his face remained open and cheerful. Carefully, he removed his bowler hat and held it at his side, surreptitiously covering one of his two sidearms as he allowed his palm to rest upon it.
Foy hated waiting. At least, waiting without gentlemanly distractions.
1 = My stars and garters
William Harper
Location: Retribution, Bridge -> Conference Room
Fore visuals revealed a scene unfolding which called for the immediate mobilization of what little Harper had access to on board his boat. He checked his own issued sidearm, and began procedures for immediate liftoff and hard burn away from a situation that, logically, could only end with a metric fuckton of death. Be it his own psychotic crew, these outlaws, or the twenty Reaver vessels he just warned everyone about, he was pretty sure that the best option was to go away, fast and solid, and let the chips fall where they may.
Then something odd happened. The shooting stopped, and they seemed to come to an understanding. William supposed that the pressing threat of terminal rape and cannibalism made strange bedfellows, and lets face it: No one deserves to die like that. Ok, very few people deserve to die like that. Fine - He needed both hands and one foot to count the number of people who deserved to die like that, but these people weren't on his list. Thinking about it, this little misstep could very well be the opportunity he was waiting for. And much sooner than expected. When personnel are eaten by Reavers, the Alliance doesn't even bother looking for a body. Not when an official report can be glossed over.
A few awkward moments later and Harper was taking orders from the lady they had come there to apprehend (among other things, apparently). Plotting a secondary course to the far side of the next nearest moon around Athens was easy. Hell, Harper didn't even have to log coordinates - a simple long-range scan gave him a real time location in space, and as soon as he could clear the atmosphere to get a visual, manual piloting to location was a cinch. To lessen the possibility of direct discovery, Harper kept the ship low and fast, then abruptly took them out into the Black.
He rode the gravity pull of Athens as best he could, giving the engines minimal burn. Less burn meant less signature, and he was fairly confident that the older models of Reaver vessels would have difficulty trying to track an up to date Alliance ship that might or might not have been there in the first place. As they drifted closer toward the next nearest of Athens's moons, Ormuzd, Harper addressed Anisa Crowe in a quiet but clear voice.
"Captain Crowe, I would very much like a private audience with you after you are done addressing the crew. It will prove a very interesting conversation, I can promise you."
The Retribution was in static orbit on the far side of Ormuzd, unreachable by direct sensor or communication from most anything Whitefall had to offer. Harper had powered down the patrol boat to minimal energy use, and proximity alerts were cranked to eleven. He took the usual spot for a senior officer around the conference table, just to the side of the Captain's place. He intended to show some measure of solidarity, unless the situation expressly dictated otherwise.
Anisa took the spot at the head of the table, not sitting down but just resting her hands on the back of the chair. Looking out at the crew she ow had in her hands. Most she knew, some she didn't. Out of all of them Jahosafat seemed to be the most distraught over everything. The man was still dressed as finely as was possible but all in black, to Foy who knew the man it would be very out of place. the doctor never wore black. His normally jovial face was blank with thin lips as if he was holding back the tides of anger.
The preacher had taken care of giving last rights to Camilla, Jackson, and even Quinn once they were on board. Something Anisa wasn't too happy about, at least not the Quinn part but she let it slide this time. Anisa kept her feelings on the matter buried, which was different for her, one to normally give her opinion right loudly and often. She knew if she did she would break down in front of the crew because she had lost her childhood friend. Now was not the time for depression.
Looking at Harper she nodded somewhat before looking back at the crew. "Gonna make a couple of things very clear for your Alliance folk real damn fast if you hadn't already picked up on it. I was part of the resistance. I was a browncoat then. I am a browncoat now. I will always be a browncoat. If you have a problem with that I can dump you at the next gorham port. You want stay on this ship, you will be hunted by the alliance and probably charged with treason. Simple as that. You stay, you work for me, end of story. Chain of command is simple - Me, no one else. My crew already knows this."
Pausing for a moment after she stated the obvious she continued. "We are running as quietly as we can for now until the Reavers that were incoming are too involved with what they were doing to notice us pull out and get the hell out of dodge. We still have a job to do, once that is over we'll figure out our next move. Try anything and my crew has orders to kill you without question. If they don't I will and then shot them out of an air lock for breaking orders. Any questions?"
Much like everything else that had transpired tofay, this 'meeting' was quite disappointing. Here she was expecting to learn something useful only to sit through an attempt to cow the crew into subservience. It's true that Carla was a tool to be used for murder, but she was not a dog that could be swayed by some menacing barking. All the blathering about her forceful tactics amounted to very little when it came from a captain who just crashed her own ship and had one of her crew break orders when the chance presented it.
"Why? Why should any of us bother sticking around and do what you say once we've cleared the Reavers?" It was a simple question, but one well worth asking and one asked with a tone of geniune curiosity rather than the verbal finger-pointing the words would normally used with. Sure Foy and Carla could probably kill every one of the Browncoats here and have Lieutenant Harper take the ship back to an Alliance Headquarters. Or once they had arrived at a spaceport they could just report the location of the ship and what happened to make it easy for the ship to be tracked down and brought to justice. But either of these things would be shutting off a potentially beneficial proceeding. For as little as she thought of the woman proclaiming herself monarch of the ship, she thought equally little of the Alliance. She had no great love for it, nor did she technically work for them. Work was work, and this did provide an opportunity to see a lot more action than she'd been getting insofar.
Daphne glanced around the room, eyeing the Alliance crew members. She figured that they would try and take control of the ship, and she didn't trust them. The whole situation was strange and, unlike her sister, Daphne was not used to being on an Alliance vessel. She still didn't like the fact that she wasn't really flying the ship, and the pilot could be flying them to an Alliance planet for all she knew. The entire group were strange, and so was the fact that she was on an Alliance vessel, and was not under arrest or anything.
She listened to Anisa's voice, and just nodded. The woman had mentioned shooting them if need be, and Daphne silently hoped that no on was trigger happy. Otherwise this entire thing could blow up in their faces. The one woman stood up and spoke, and Daphne had to agree with her question, though she hated to admit it.
Things were getting intense. On one hand, she respected Anisa and liked seeing her take charge of a situation that she didn't want to be in, but on the other, did she have any authority to take control of the ship. Surely in the event of their captain passing, the Alliance had a chain of command that didn't include the captain of a Browncoat vessel. While she was sure that her comrades were ok with Anisa assuming control, because it meant they didn't have to spend their time locked in a room or a cage, she was sure the Alliance wouldn't go for it. Her thoughts were confirmed with Carla speaking up.
She didn't want things to escalate, so she finally spoke up "I think we are all in a position we would rather not be in. After recent events, it may be best to just make sure we get away from the Reavers. We can come to terms with everything after we are safely away. Perhaps a meeting of the powers would be best, meaning Anisa and whoever is next in line after Captain Quinn. I could moderate, if you'd like. Otherwise, I may take you up on that offer," she said to Foy. The man was...interesting, to say the least. She also eyed Carla, hoping the woman would see her. She very much wanted to speak to her too, but she had to make sure that they all weren't going to kill each other first.
The Esteemed Mr. Coiffeur took the situation with more than an ounce of concern. Not only was social order disrupted, but threats were being flung about in an attempt to establish a new chain of command (or lack thereof). This was most undignified. Not boring, which was a tad refreshing, but definitely most undignified. Add to this the extremely low morale of his childhood friend, Jahosafat. Foy was classist, not heartless. Well, not completely, anyway. This is something that would have to be discussed in the manner of gentlemen: Privately, over decent liquor and cigars, without showing much in the way of emotion unless it could be utilized for dramatic effect.
One thing which put the generally spirited gentleman's mood to the demonstrably irritated was the fact that, the moment a bullet tore through Captain Quinn's body and brought about his swift, untimely end, Foy's contract in extremely fuzzy circumstance. There was very little preventing him from exercising the skills he had honed for half of his lifetime (barbing notwithstanding) to reestablish a social order upon the vessel more to his liking. His thoughts dancing upon this concept for a moment, Foy scanned the faces of the remaining Alliance personnel within the conference room, looking for a glimmer that they might be thinking the same thing. He locked eyes with as many as he could, studying. Seeing who was waiting for a moment and who was going to fold like a pair of twos.
He kept a personable expression the entire time.
Within the confines of his own thoughts, he kept a running tally. ...Hmm... Myself (of course), Josie, our Engineer, Yeo-y #1, Yeo-y #2, our assassin Carla... His brain hovered there for a moment. He and Miss Lobo had worked well together in the "Asset Elimination" business once upon a time. With a bit of teamwork, the two of them could clear out the seven interloping crew members. ...possibly medical? Didn't we have an additional med guy? Eh. Our gunner Williams, and Harper. Yes, quite...
Tactically, they still held the advantage were they to make a move soon. Ship familiarity and the still locked away arsenal were assets in this undertaking. Provided that they were able to leave this room, one way or another. Foy gave one last smile and nod at Carla, and waited until their new "Captain" was finished speaking. Then he began to pursue an alternate possibility.
"Indubitably, madame." began Foy, speaking to Anisa. "I must concur with my cherished colleague on this caveat. This is not a Firefly vessel, quaint as the machine is. You shall require the assistance of these Alliance gentleman (though I utter the term loosely in part) to bring out her abilities. And what motivation have we to cheerfully carry out your commands? Loyalty and obedience are a sore things to wager upon when they are procured with intimidation."
It was strange to Foy that one would be so transparent, thinking to recoup losses of crew and ship from among the people who had just let one board their vessel to escape certain death and dismemberment. A little premature, at the very least. That took amazing naivety or ironclad intestinal fortitude. "As for myself, my contract with this noteworthy vessel's secondary endeavor was cut short with the sudden demise of our Captain. Now depending upon how one reads said contract, I have either become a Free Agent, or my primary obligations pass on to the next ranking Alliance Officer on board; specifically the one with claim to take over for our departed Quinn."
"In simpler words, Captain; I find threats of violence give me frightful ennui. Convince me with other methods. Ah, but wherever are my manners? You are a guest still, I suppose, whatever our Reaver situation. Would you care for a wrapped candy?"
William Harper
Location: Retribution, Conference Room
The enigmatic Pilot kept quiet during the last pieces of verbal exchange. His words were for Anisa alone, unless a specific question were put to him. Even then, he planned to answer in a manner that would better secure his possibility for survival. To be quite honest, that's really all he had left.
Harper briefly wondered if he had chosen the wrong life to take over. The wrong guy, wrong job, assignment, ship, etc. About a week ago he was a prisoner, tucked far away from civilization. And now, William Harper was trapped in a term of service with the Alliance Military, caught in a Black Ship, still tucked far away from civilization. Crewmembers of a black ship didn't exist, either. Except for a select few of the higher-ups elsewhere, no one even knew they existed. Good to see that nothing's changed for him.
He noticed that their barber was valiantly trying to broker a contract of some sort, probably for his own survival or to turn a profit in their swiftly changing circumstances. That didn't take very long.
As Dorothy listened to Anisa's speech, her eyes flickered around the room. No one else from her days in the Alliance remained. Quinn was dead, his last rights already rattled off. Camilla, although she knew her as a browncoat, was gone as well. However, as she saw her sister, alive and breathing, she couldn't help but smile ever so slightly. The events might have been horrifying that day, but her small little family made it out just fine.
With Genevieve's interjection, offering to serve as a mediator, Dorothy had to hold back a sigh. She loved the girl, but her idealistic nature wasn't going to work out. Dorothy knew that Anisa would likely refuse the possibility of relinquishing the chain of command, and that a mediated meeting wouldn't happen. Anisa would do exactly what she said she would--run the ship, drop off anyone who didn't want to at the next hub.
But furthermore, it was more the military chain of command breach that rubbed Dorothy the wrong way, ever so slightly. While you could take the army doctor out of the military, you couldn't take the military out of the army doctor. The meeting was being conducted by Anisa, the questions were addressed to Anisa, the Captain of the Retribution--in Dorothy's mind, only Anisa should be answering questions. Though of course, she knew Genevieve only meant well, that she was trying to do her best to help.
Dorothy was half tempted herself, for example, to explain to the Alliance members on the ship that they had to make a moral choice. It was the reason she had deserted the Alliance, for their part in the creation of reavers. But she doubted as well that the people in the conference room could be swayed by moral convictions--compensation in the form of credits would likely have more sway, as far as she could tell.
"Other than work and not being under the thumb of the Alliance, I have none." Anisa's answer to Carla was direct and to the point. She wasn't going to argue the semantics of the situation. "But hey, if you all enjoy working for the very people that brought about the Reavers, then by all means I can drop you off at the next port without issue." It was a bit on the nose as far as things went but there was more, something she would get to eventually before Gene made her offer.
That girl, damn she tried to be a voice of reason at times but Anisa wasn't exactly very reasonable. She had just lost her childhood friend to the hands of the Alliance captain, the fact she just didn't execute the rest of the Alliance crew was about as kind as she could muster right then. Preacher knew this and kept his mouth shut. He knew that look in the captains eyes and he wasn't about to get shot out an air lock. If she threatened to it wouldn't the first nor the last time but he figured after losing Jackson she'd follow through right then.
"Thank you Gene but as far as these files show, Harper is the next in line for their command and he and I already have a meeting after this," she said tapping through the screen of one of the tablets. Jahosafat looked up and grinned broadly. "Got something to add?"
"Well that I do my good woman. Per Alliance orders I am the next in line and I would very much enjoy talking about what and where we could go from there."
"It isn't in the files. Granted from what I am seeing here neither are you, so as far as I am concerned you are the only one I have to worry about currently."
Jahosafat was rendered speechless for the first time in his life. Usually being off the books paid but right then it didn't. Why he was there and his position were not on file, so he couldn't exactly use that to get his point across.
Looking over at Foy, Anisa smirked. "Oh don't you worry, Dorthy is more than capable if Mr. Harper decides to jump ship. She's a quick study," Anisa added with a bit of confidence in her own pilot. Dorthy was young and didn't have the experience that say Harper did but she had not doubt the girl could handle this vessel. It wasn't much larger than a Firefly Vessel and while there would be a learning curve and Harper would be better in the main driver seat, if worse came to worse, Dorthy could handle it in Anisa's mind.
"Now back to business, like I said I can drop you off or not. Personally I would stay on if I were you but that's me after what my crew found on Whitehead, I wouldn't be associated with the Alliance for all the gold in the 'Verse. Granted I wouldn't have before hand either," she said sliding across the box that Camilla had opened for her earlier that day. Contained within the information it held.
"Our little Alliance wants to use Reavers as soldiers."
Jahosafat looked up and rubbed the bridge between his eyes before looking over towards Foy. The look he gave his old friend confirmed what Anisa had just dropped on the crew of the Retribution.
That last sentence was clearly meant to be a huge reveal and a checkmate against a crew that was presumably loyal to the Alliance and the causes it championed. A reasonable assumption, but one that happened to be for the most part utterly false. Of the crew that remained after being stripped down, a great number of them didn't even official work for the Alliance, and she was fairly certain that less than half at most of the total crew could even be considered loyal to the government. Her expression remained as neutral as ever in the face of the big reveal.
Most people would certainly shocked at the moral reprehensibility of the Alliance and how low they could sink, but the mind of a sociopathic killer could cut through the moral outrage and see the logic of it all. Why wouldn't you want a breed of absolutely ruthless, vicious killers under your command? It was just another attempt to get the perfect human weapon, much like her own upbringing and training under the Agency. And as outlandish as trying to control the Reavers sounded, Jahosafat's expression gave it all away and in the process explained a great many things. There were many things that Carla could verbally pick apart right now, but she deigned to voice her many, many complaints with Anisa In favor of trying to get a better understanding of the situation.
"Alright, say that the Alliance does want to use the Reavers as soldiers. Say that it's actually possible for them to actually carry this out and are working on it right now. What are you planning on doing with this information? Are you going to try to raise an army with this information and make a second attempt at revolt? The Alliance is a lot less popular now than it was a scant few decades ago. You could possibly get a much greater force together than the first Browncoat Uprising, Will you tuck tail and try to remain out of sight of the Alliance and hope they don't succeed at this Reaver Army project? As powerful as the Alliance seems to be, none of us truly know how many of their projects and desires come into fruition or end up crashing and burning. The mere existence of the Reavers proves their track record in the scientific experiment is far from spotless. Or are you going to go on as if you'd never learned this tidbit in the first place? Try taking little potshots against the Alliance whenever you can, feeding your own need for Revenge against the machine but never causing any lasting harm. What are you going to do now?"
This was becoming interesting, and very quickly. Certain types of interesting were more beneficial than others, however. The type of interesting that they were skirting into might possibly lead them into a pitched gun battle right there in the Conference Room. As fun as that might potentially be, it was a hair counterproductive. If anyone was going to kill anyone on this ship, it would be a smooth, clean job wherein the particularly ungrateful interlopers were surgically aerated, their bodies jettisoned above an atmosphered planet to burn away into nothingness via reentry friction. For want of a single crew member, even a Captain, these people figured they were the final authority.
The whole gave Foy some pause, really. Then the facts started to get very interesting indeed. Jahosafat's silent affirmation of what Anisa had said surprised him just a little, true. Reavers as soldiers. The concept seemed to make sense, in an odd sort of way. But Carla... She meant well. Ok, she probably didn't. But she was his colleague; in this regard a professional equal, regardless of the status of her birth.
"Why I declare, Miss Lobo - Such questions more prudently answered following the initial discussion of terms. At present, madame, all we have is a general declaration of loyalty to the Independents, and nigh palpable news of scandal that might embarrass the Alliance. It is all rather ungentlemanly, I should say. Reavers do not make for soldiers. Attack dogs, mayhap. Weaponizing Reavers. It is as absurd a concept as tarnishing feculence."
Foy looked to the people around the room. For a second, he did the quick math of how many bullets he had loaded into firearms on his person vs. the number of new faces, debating the order in which they would have to be killed before the likely event of him taking a bullet. The faster, the more agitated, they would have to go first, if chance favored him, then move on to the more talkative and easily panicked. They always seemed to have a slightly slower draw time than others. His next words covered for this train of thought, "Come now, all of you. I can tell a most charming bit of camaraderie when I see one. Profoundly, I desire your fellowship nothing but the best of luck, provided that your endeavorous windfalls do not negatively impact my own. Now, I do realize the benefits of keeping stoutly "mum" about your proposed dealings on the interim, however, were one to desire membership in your, ah... social club, without revealing specificities, mind you, what might one find in the way of Risk vs. Reward, and how does this go toward alleviating that most common of Rich Mans' ailments - Boredom? I assure you the latter consideration is one of note."
"Then we may discuss the whats and hows, provided the initial stimulates our attentiveness. By your leave, of course madams."
Had it perhaps been another time, another place, Dorothy might have lightly teased Anisa for mixing her up with her sister. It was generally Lionel who got the pair mixed up, but to be fair, their parents were not all too creative with names. Dorothy and Daphne. And to make matters worse, they resembled each other, as siblings tended to do. But it wasn't the time to point out the Captain's slip--especially with the tensions in the room, driven to a maximum from too much death and too much loss.
However, Dorothy's mind went blank for a moment as Anisa announced what she had learned that day. Reavers as...soldiers?! The Alliance had always been attempting to gain the upper hand, to grow more and more powerful. She knew that all too well. But that concept, of harnessing savage beasts, driven beyond what could even be called insanity...It bewildered Dorothy, to say the least. The last time she had felt so shocked and appalled, she had deserted the Alliance military, and thrown her lot in with the browncoats. The Alliance knew no morals and it repulsed her.
Two members of the Alliance in the room were more vocal than the others. The woman was very blunt and to the point, simply asking what Anisa was going to do with the information. And the man, well, he seemed to care about alleviating boredom more than anything else. The Alliance did attract certain types of personalities, that was true--but Dorothy couldn't help but feel a bit irritated with the pair of them.
Were they not human? Did they not understand what it meant, that the Alliance was not only responsible for the making of reavers, but now attempting to use them as weapons?
She half-expected Anisa to keelhaul her ass out the airlock for speaking up and was pleasantly surprised that she, instead, seemed to respond cool and controlling. She nodded and waited for the speeches to be over, she had lots of things she wanted to get done. It wasn't until Anisa brought up the Reavers that she started to pay attention.
While she had no specific ties to the Alliance, apart from some sessions with the members, she knew the Reavers were a mistake and one the Alliance would have to pay for some time. Now, she hears that the Alliance wants to control them and use them as weapons.
On one hand, it could go their way and they wold have control over a huge force of power. One that, if used correctly, could bring many people to its knees. Anyone with that kind of power would find it irresistible and that would bring ruin to them and everyone. On the other hand, it could not go their way and many men and women would lose their lives in the process.
Either way, people died.
She sat on these issues in her head. There would be time to talk, time to plan. Carla seemed vocal. She would talk to her later. She also wanted to poke the other man's mind. He seemed...funny to her. The way he talked and walked. That would be another time. She assumed they still had much to discuss.
Anisa would have balked at Carla if that had been her way but she didn't. Simply standing there staring at the woman with a blank expression as she ground her teeth together. "Excuse me but it should like you want me to give my gorham plans to a member of the Alliance that has no loyalty to me or my crew. How fucking stupid do you think I am? Or is it just your own stupidity that would make you think that I would dare delve into anymore information than I have already given to you? Piss off, you can get off at the next stop. Which, you are lucky I am even willing to do. I could just be like Quinn and put you down but I'm not that heartless former son of a bitch. I actually only kill if I have to. Now, you are dismissed because I will share nothing more with you. You can report to your housing quarters or be shot out of an air lock, the choice is yours." Anisa's voice was flat as she spoke, her eyes though were awash with anger.
"Ladies, ladies, please. There is no need for this. What Anisa has stated does make sense considering the information I have and my mission whilst here on the ship. I dare say, it would be the next logical step. Enough to make me wish I had worn my brown tux today but alas, black it is. I have no qualms staying on this vessel as long as I can continue my research. It does sound like an adventure is to be had! Yes, yes, quite the adventure and I for one could use some excitement after so many moons on a core Worlds. They just don't bring about the type of fun and flagrancy as the Outer Planets do. Rip roaring goods times are to be had," Jahosafat said as he sat there, running his fingers along the top of his hat which say in his lap.
"You, out, now," Anisa stated coldly looking at Carla before her eyes darted towards Jahosafat. "You, I will want a private word with you shortly," she added before looking over at Harper. "Think it is time we spoke before this goes any further and I just jettison your crew and get back to work. The rest of you are dismissed as well. Vengeance crew, stay on your guard and put any of these gorham Alliance folk down if they even so much as look at you the wrong way."
Atticus unsnapped his side arm before picking up but bible and standing. Turning he headed out, he didn't know if he needed a drink or a prayer at that point. Either would be welcome, both was probably going to occur. Looking at Jahosafat as he stood and placed on his hat he blinked a few times. He and this Foy character were exactly that, characters. What they were doing on an Alliance vessel made him question just who the Core was recruiting these days. Things sure had changed since his service with the other side.
"You mentioned a shave?" he said towards Foy as he tugged at his own facial hair. "I could use some cleaning up, if you wouldn't mind. Cleanliness is next to godliness. That is unless you can tell me where to get a drink in this place I will have to abstain from being Moses right now."
Anisa looked at Harper and motioned for him to follow her after pulling Dorthy aside. "You're my second now, keep your eyes open," she said to her old friend before heading towards Quinns former and now her current office. "Inside Harper, seems we have a lot to talk about," she said as she waited for him to enter. Shutting the door behind him she secured it so they could speak privately.
"Now, what did you need to tell me that is so interesting?"
Lionel idly wondered why he or any of the other surviving Vengeance crew members were here anyways. Anisa clearly didn't have anything to say to any of them. Then again, why were any of them here in this meeting anyways? This same information could have been just as easily distributed over the intercom and everyone probably would have been better off than this ill-thought out arrangement.
Meeting with a room full of psychos aside, Lionel had bigger things to worry about. Right now aboard this ship, he effectively had nothing. This was an unacceptable state of things, especially now that he knew about the Alliance's little plan to use Reavers as soldiers. Fuck that. But to load up on resources would require some rather specific travel plans which would need to be approved by Captain Crowe and right now she was having a discussion with what seemed like the only sane member of the Alliance crew. So he'd stick around the conference room until they were done and see about talking to Crowe.
Yep. Sit around and wait. With nothing to do. Fuck.
Daphne had to suppress the urge to laugh when the Captain mixed her up with Dorothy, but she was used to it by now. She was glad that Anisa had some confidence in her piloting abilities. There were so many people in the room, that Daphne was more interested in them than the rest of the conversation. She knew her orders, and that was all that really mattered to her. Her sister was going to be busy again in the medical area while Daphne didn't have anything to do, since someone else was still going to be flying the ship.
When she heard Anisa dismiss the crew, she was slow leaving the room. Daphne noticed the Alliance pilot hanging back, and wondered what business he had with the Captain. She thought about hanging back, but decided against, figuring that Anisa would kick her out of the room anyway. Daphne left the room, and started trying to figure out what to do now, and how that meeting was probably going to be the highlight of her day.
"Positively, my good man!" remarked Foy to the Shepherd(?), spinning his hat from its resting place atop one of his sidearms and onto his head. The picture of gentlemanly panache, he slid one finger across the brim to ensure a tidy, level fit, and turned toward the door behind him. A self-assured smile grew on his lips. He turned his head halfway around so that those in the room could clearly hear him. "Should anyone appreciate the feel of a clean shave, fresh cut, or merely the luxury of a decent coffee and something sweet, please feel free to join us." He stepped into the corridor, and completed his thought aloud, "The sentiment likewise is applied to civilized discussion. I have come to ascertain that it is in reduced supply in this part of the 'Verse. That is civilized discussion. I refuse to tolerate the guttural musings of underclass prolix within my parlor."
He strode casually to the nearest ladder, calling behind him, "One deck up, across from Recovery!"
A very short time later, Foy found himself setting out a plate of shortbread and toasted nuts, readying a pot of aromatic black coffee (providing the appropriate creamers and sweeteners), and of course, his virtually endless supply of wrapped candies. The final touch came when he unbuckled his gunbelt and hung it across the left ear of his barber's chair.
"Might I interest you in a styling, or simply a cleanup, my good man?"
William Harper
Location: Retribution, Captain's Office
This was going to be an interesting conversation. No two ways about it. Harper did not know this Captain, but she had said very distinctly that she was a confirmed Browncoat. So he expected to be either treated like a precious resource or jettisoned from a missile tube, equal chance of either possibility. So what the hell? He was in this. Time to allow his actual personality to slip, what was left of it after the last few years. Glancing at the instrumentation in the room, he made really damned sure that no recording or observation was taking place before saying what he had to. Or even getting comfortable.
He settled into a chair opposite Quinn's former desk and steepled his fingers in front of him. Harper squinted his eyes slightly and cocked his head to the side, looking at Anisa in an appraising manner. He raised a finger, motioning in her direction as he began to speak in a confident, damn near upbeat voice. "I've got very little to lose, so I'm going to start this out with the biggest piece of conversation. So let's lay it out bare:" He was obviously significantly more assertive than he had been letting on throughout the meeting.
"Lieutenant William Harper died about two weeks ago, in a cold and horrible place I wouldn't wish even on that Quinn asshair. Blunt force trauma that involved a Jùdà de Tā mā de Bānshǒu.1 I am not Alliance, but I used to be. Cards on the table, yes I served in the Unification War. Pilot. Imagine that. I do a lot more than fly, these days. A couple of those things can help keep this ship under your control. Trust me, they're thinking about it. Guns and numbers too - they've got 'em. I'd prefer to be an asset than not, personally. Hope you feel the same way."
"So! What part did you want to discuss first, Captain?"
