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[Dwarmin]

Scarlet sighed. You know what, she's just gonna have to deal with it. Besides, it's a survey drone, right? I'm surveying something with it.

((OOC: I"ll save the GM some work and describe the sort of thing Sadish would use. Though he might have something better in mind!))

Sadish's designs invariably combine both strictly mechanical parts (something she only has partial familiarity with) and biologically mimicked design choices (about which she knows a great deal more).

Her drone is typical of this train of thought-her survey drone sort of resembles a jellyfish, in general shape, being made of an out layer of amorphous thermoceramic polymers, with a small cluster of tech and sensors visible inside acting as it's 'brain'. It's polymer shell is quite resistant to chemical and biological threats, it is capable of squeezing through very tight spaces, and it has a triple pair of elastic grapple arms on the underside for physical manipulation. It's movement mimics the creature it was designed on, meaning that it moves in small and precise bursts. It says something of a Fins short attention span that running the machine requires constant minor adjustments to the gravimetric pressure, and the complicated trajectory analysis-things Sadish might have intentionally designed to keep herself from getting bored. It's probably a trait that makes Fins good pilots.

The control mechanism itself, is a ball held in the center of an anti-gravity ring, with flat buttons and sliding levers located about the surface-imagine a rubiks sphere, if you will. In essence, it's a complicated control panel-and Fins think in three dimensions! The sheer size of the thing may make it difficult for a non-fin to manipulate.

For reasons only Sadish knows, the entire device, and matching control mechanism is entirely candy pink.

[Draignean]

Sadish

Action: Sadish gestured back with a quick counterclockwise twirl of her own fluke, meaning yes, quite emphatically so.

A swirl of movement later and the younger Fin found himself struggling against a strong wash, upside down and twenty feet away. Laughter erupts at from the other Fins, and the small male makes a sound analogous to a human raspberry. He swims off in a flurry of movement, making a bit too spectacular a somersault through an air bubble before finding a different bar to settle into.

"Kids today," the older male sub-toned, the equivalent of sotte voce in an aquatic conversation.  "I'd say more, but I don't know that I was much better when I was his age."

The older fin was one of the more interesting people involved in the conversation. He hadn't shared exactly why he was on the station, just that he was part of the event, and he had a surprisingly sophisticated grasp of history, if not an in depth knowledge of the topic in question. The scars on his side had an odd look, like the blast lines from an explosion.

"So," the older Fin continued, still in sub-tone, "what brings a scholar such as yourself to Deliria at a time like this? A hint of a dream tells me you aren't involved with the festivities."


Scarlet

Action: Send the drone into the med bay. Look for useless crap interesting historical artifacts to appease Sadish with alongside attempting to locate actual medical supplies.

Piloting Sadish's drone was a learning experience for Scarlet, to say the least. With a lot of practice she thought she might be able to move the camera, move the drone, and move at least one of the manipulator arms all at the same time. At the moment, however, she felt pretty good to get any one of the three working properly.

With trial, error, and a lot of cursing, Scarlet got the drone over into the air vent that should allow access into the locked down section that included medical. Should, assuming that she could figure out the rather arcane workaround to make the air-vents function like a mini-airlock that Boris had figured out. Scarlet supposed the solution was ingenious, it kept the ship from bleeding air constantly and mostly contained the radiation leaks, but it was also utterly obtuse.

If Scarlet could properly figure out Boris' method, that would lock the vent cover and slowly open the outer vent in order to gradually ease the drone through. If she got it wrong, either both vents would remain closed, or both would fly open. The first just meant she had to try again, the second meant that her section of the ship would rapidly begin to vent atmosphere.

There were three vent control buttons next to the vent itself. One for open far vent, one for open near vent, and one for purge. Given the station's damage, and Boris' liberal rewiring, the buttons undoubtedly didn't function the way one would expect- which would explain why Boris had repainted the three buttons with new labels: A, B, and C. Attached via yellow sticky note to the opening of the vent was a set of highly cryptic instructions for how to 'cycle' the vent.

It did not inspire confidence.

Spoiler:  Boris' Diagram (click to show/hide)

[Dwarmin]

"So," the older Fin continued, still in sub-tone, "what brings a scholar such as yourself to Deliria at a time like this? A hint of a dream tells me you aren't involved with the festivities."

Sadish took another shot of Sealite from her drinking bulb.

"Not anything interestingly, really...just visiting. My crew is here on business of an altogether different manner, related to some typical mercenary endeavor, as you probably could have guessed...personally-I'd rather be digging at the remains of those 'Neo-Murids' they supposedly found in a lost settlement on Myrgheil I...there's always been rumors of a '6th Sapience', or more, but no one has conclusively proved they exist yet...

~Aem!

Unfortunately, I'm merely the ships doctor-and my crew is the sort who often take hard jobs, not smart ones. They need my hands and mind, much more often than they need my heart. So, I go where the tides take me, learning what I can, doing what I have to do.

Still, there's something to be said about the act of unintentional discovery! As it turns out, you find plenty of things when you're not looking for anything at all..."

She paused for a moment. Got a little excited there.

"Well, now for the atypical social 'riposte' from myself-that's an ancient term Neo-Apes used for a counter attack in sword fighting, you might not have heard of it-what brings you here? Are you an endeavoring mercenary as well? More to the point, are you best working with your heart, your hands, or your head? And, which one do you make your living on?" Sadish said, with a hint of playfulness in her sub-tone.

[Draignean]

"Well, now for the atypical social 'riposte' from myself-that's an ancient term Neo-Apes used for a counter attack in sword fighting, you might not have heard of it-what brings you here? Are you an endeavoring mercenary as well? More to the point, are you best working with your heart, your hands, or your head? And, which one do you make your living on?" Sadish said, with a hint of playfulness in her sub-tone.

The other Fin rolled over in the water, a shrug. "My heart, I suppose, though there comes a time when one begins to wonder if their heart truly belongs to them anymore. Getting paid to do what you love can put... strings on you. I'm not a mercenary, that implies a certain freedom to pick and choose your jobs. I'm just an old troubleshooter, trying to keep this event from running into a reef before the 'Loy can take their cut- not that they're helping calm the waters."

The old Fin made a quick request to the barkeep, and another lump of heavily frozen sorbet was served to both before Sadish could object. "As a curiosity, have you heard tell of a killer skipping around this region, blacking out ships while they're plotting flicker jumps from deep space, heavy use of bio-weapons? It makes some of the accountants nervous, and, quite honestly it irks me too, particularly when the powers that be here seem to be rather stingy with allocating resources to look into it."

[Chevaleresse]

Scarlet frowned at the diagram as the urge to hit something spiked rapidly in her psyche. "What in the god damn fucking. . ." She pulled her phone - what, you didn't think people still had phones in space? - out of her pocket irritably and dialed up Boris. Once he picked up, she immediately spoke without a greeting. "Why the hell is it easier to build my own airlock than to figure it out how to operate yours?"

[IronyOwl]

It took a lot of Khate's willpower to keep on task. Possibly more than she had, given that she decided to take a quick detour.

See, Khate was still pretty certain AL-Loy was involved in their mission, if not from the start then certainly now. And since she knew they were involved in the current celebration, that gave her a possible window into their activities. Probably nothing concrete, especially if they had no plans for their operations to overlap, but to a connoisseur such as herself any little hints might help.

Plus, getting into the mood might inspire her.

Wade back into the crowd to collect information on Goliath Falls and AL-Loy's latest developments. Anything that hints at what AL-Loy's connection or intentions to our target might be, if any.

[Digital Hellhound]

Scarlet frowned at the diagram as the urge to hit something spiked rapidly in her psyche. "What in the god damn fucking. . ." She pulled her phone - what, you didn't think people still had phones in space? - out of her pocket irritably and dialed up Boris. Once he picked up, she immediately spoke without a greeting. "Why the hell is it easier to build my own airlock than to figure it out how to operate yours?"

Boris took the incoming call with a grunt. It was never good when they called him.

He was quickly proven right. 'Oh, my airlock is not good enough for you, girl? Fine! You'd be long dead without them. Why do I even bother...'

The call ended promptly after that. The person on the other side would quickly discover they had, apparently, been blocked for an indeterminate amount of time.

***

Boris turned his attentions back into the important things. His shopping had been surprisingly bountiful - except with jump solutions, but price gouging was only to be expected in a scum-station like this. All three were useful, but the EM Flask suited his needs best. Sure, it could still irradiate its surroundings, but it was a big ship. The chances of the rest of the crew coming near enough to get a lethal dose were not that high. That's what he'd tell them, anyway.

Satisfied with his purchase, Boris moved on. Augmented frame or not, they were going against a hardened killer. He wouldn't mind a few tricks up his sleeve.

Get the EM Flask.

Shop for bombs, mines, and other explosives. Incapacitating and non-lethal variants, too.

[Dwarmin]

The old Fin made a quick request to the barkeep, and another lump of heavily frozen sorbet was served to both before Sadish could object. "As a curiosity, have you heard tell of a killer skipping around this region, blacking out ships while they're plotting flicker jumps from deep space, heavy use of bio-weapons? It makes some of the accountants nervous, and, quite honestly it irks me too, particularly when the powers that be here seem to be rather stingy with allocating resources to look into it."

"Naval tactics isn't my realm of expertise...however, it's possibly related to the job my crew is on. All I can tell you without giving away too much, is that it's the sort of job with a lot of competition-and a lot of our competitors have been disappearing lately, in a fatal manner. Was their any connection between the attacked ships that might indicate that to be the case, or am I not within an echo?"

((OOC: Btw, I've decided Sadish saying 'X isn't my realm of expertise' followed by a bunch of information on the subject is now one of her personal habits Might as well channel some DeForest Kelley there. ))

[Draignean]

"Naval tactics isn't my realm of expertise...however, it's possibly related to the job my crew is on. All I can tell you without giving away too much, is that it's the sort of job with a lot of competition-and a lot of our competitors have been disappearing lately, in a fatal manner. Was their any connection between the attacked ships that might indicate that to be the case, or am I not within an echo?"

"Could be that we're in different seas, could be we're on different verses of the same song. I can tell you that the crews killed were very independent people, but that's just my personal feelings- completely unsupported by any factual evidence that I may or may not have seen. Someone of independent mind and an ambiguous line of work might not want to linger too long in the black, but, again, that's just the personal feelings of a senile old fish." The scarred Fin eyed Sadish sideways, a very young mischief in the expression. "Of course, if an independent person such as yourself happened to have more cooperative contacts aboard this station, and could potentially provide a few facts to fill in my specious feelings about this killer, I might have a decent stipend to pay for such details." 

[Dwarmin]

"That's a beautiful song for us to sing together. Getting paid for a good deed on one tide, and that deed, maybe helping me and my crew avoid trouble on the other tide. I'll shake my tail to that...and do what I can to help. You have a deal.

Also, what of your name can you offer me? Do you have an honorific, like me? If you've got one, I hope it isn't 'the old'..."

She was amused.

Some Fins were officially given 'honorifics' by their parents when they reached the age of maturity-these were considered nicknames, and sometimes more. It became a part of them-ultimately either a stigma or a boon granted to one in Fin society. Not all Fins had them of course, and some would just as soon forget them, or take new ones. Her comment here was somewhat tongue in cheek-a proper honorific bestowed by fin parent calling their child 'the old' was cheerfuly absurd, implying they had been old, since before they were children.

Sadish had always thought her own honorific was fairly accurate.

[Draignean]

The old fin chortled. "My parents used to call me the Shark. It was a fond title then..." There was wistful expression to him for a moment, like he was on the edge of a sea dream, but he dispelled it with a quick shudder. "It stuck for different reasons, and now has grown too deep in me to be dispelled easily. Keresh the Shark, at your service. You are?"

[Chevaleresse]

Scarlet sighed irritably. The bucket of bolts had to choose this moment of all to be touchy about his goddamn airlock, didn't he? Nevermind that all the ex-pirate was trying to do was keep the rest of the crew alive and not maimed horribly (or any more maimed than they already were, anyway. She wasn't liable for that.) Unwilling to risk venting the ship's atmosphere and unable to figure out what in the underworlds of all the major religions she knew of the diagram was supposed to say, she continued to search for assistance, phoning up Kesari.

"Hey, Kari, I'm trying to scout out a bit of the med bay - you know, the part that's probably more radioactive than the goddamn reactor chamber - and Boris left this clusterfuck of an instruction manual for the airlock. You got a little time to help me figure it out?"

[lawastooshort]

”Good… Afternoon, Malissa.”

Aubrey took a stool at the bar.

”Yes please. It has been quite a long time.”

She waited what she hoped might be taken as a polite length of time.

”Look. I am sorry to have come in need, rather than just for the company, after such time. I have heard that there has been increased mercenary activity in the region recently. Well, the Flounder region. And more specifically increased mercenary… turnover, so to speak. I wondered what you knew here about it? My particular interest is perhaps gaining information that might prevent my… turnover, if you will. Do you think I might be able to find some time with Fuzzy if it might help? How is Fuzzy? Sorry, Malissa. How are you?”

Aubrey cocked her head for a second or two.

”I am willing to offer my, and perhaps my colleague’s services for aid, of course. I seem to have found myself in a mess where perhaps intelligence and tricks may be all I have to help.”

“I am sorry that I cannot be more direct, just yet, Malissa. But I’m sure you understand.”

[Dwarmin]

The old fin chortled. "My parents used to call me the Shark. It was a fond title then..." There was wistful expression to him for a moment, like he was on the edge of a sea dream, but he dispelled it with a quick shudder. "It stuck for different reasons, and now has grown too deep in me to be dispelled easily. Keresh the Shark, at your service. You are?"

"Sadish, the Restless. It's fairly fitting, if you know me. And, now you know me better than you did.

I do consider it a better day now that I have met you, Keresh."

...

She would send a message to her friends at the next possible time. She made prodigious use of her's communicators whale-mojis (emoticons that looked like her own face).

~to Aubrey, Khate, Boris

Hello, friends! I hope you're all not busy with larceny. I have something that may interest you.

For, though my social current is weaker than yours, but I did meet an interesting new friend. He's offered a bit of pay if we find any clues relating to what he called a 'killer'- -a hostile ship located in this region, reputed to be attacking ships while they're preparing to flicker jump, and using bio-weapons. And they were targeting people like us-independent types. I had a thought it might indeed be one of our competitors, or perhaps al-loy trading group themselves. 

He did mention the local powers were not eager to allocate resources toward resolving this. What are your thoughts? 

[Draignean]

”Good… Afternoon, Malissa.”

Aubrey took a stool at the bar.

”Yes please. It has been quite a long time.”

She waited what she hoped might be taken as a polite length of time.

”Look. I am sorry to have come in need, rather than just for the company, after such time. I have heard that there has been increased mercenary activity in the region recently. Well, the Flounder region. And more specifically increased mercenary… turnover, so to speak. I wondered what you knew here about it? My particular interest is perhaps gaining information that might prevent my… turnover, if you will. Do you think I might be able to find some time with Fuzzy if it might help? How is Fuzzy? Sorry, Malissa. How are you?”

Aubrey cocked her head for a second or two.

”I am willing to offer my, and perhaps my colleague’s services for aid, of course. I seem to have found myself in a mess where perhaps intelligence and tricks may be all I have to help.”

“I am sorry that I cannot be more direct, just yet, Malissa. But I’m sure you understand.”

Malissa smiled and shook her head. "Your small talk has improved, little Raven. I'm as well as can be expected, given how taxed Deliria is with feeding all the extra mouths." She made a distasteful face, sniffing visible at the only slightly astringent air before adding:  "And, of course, what all those extra mouths have the propensity to do when left alone." Aubrey had only a moment to wonder what that meant before Malissa continued.   "I understand about the tight lips, dear, and I'm sorry that I can't help, but my expertise is limited to within Deliria's walls. Hold on to this and give me a moment to see to the others..."

The drink she served Aubrey was an old favorite of the station, clean and almost non-alcoholic, but with with a moderate blend of herbals that were good for focus without hyperactivity and lent the drink a peculiar, spicy flavor. Aubrey nursed it slowly while Malissa took a moment to tend the rest of the bar before coming back around.

"Fuzzy has, regrettably, boycotted my establishment until I can get the air fully cycled again," Malissa added, making an exaggerated moue. "He's been busy recently, but he's currently in his gallery- hiding from the worst of the crowds, I think. I made inquiries, and he'd be delighted to see you again."

Fuzzy's gallery was a hybrid cross between a museum and a park, and it occupied the very top of the central spire. It was also a public work, open to all to admire and be inspired by. Fuzzy was an effective and ruthless administrator, but he had an appreciation for art and a devout respect for individuality. The gallery was a way for him to try and keep the refugees that he picked up inspired, to show them something beyond their own pain and misery. He was an odd Claw, but it was a nice gesture.