Two Jackals

Centauri Landing Platform 

The transparent crystalline walls grant a magnificent view of icy Shalyaris. Overhead you notice several hovertanks patroling the city and this spaceport in particular. Various ships, mostly of Centauran design, occupy spaces on the platform. Many Centaurans mill about, speaking silently with telepathic voices. In the center of the platform, a smooth-walled tube with ten foot glassy walls around it plunges into the heart of the tower. A conventional staircase for non-Centauran visitors also spirals downwards about a hoverchair lift. The night sky glitters with stars, the yellow-orange companion of the sun a particularly bright one. Patches of the city extending off into the distance begin to darken their lights; a distant mountain remains completely dark. The spaceport itself glows from within.

Contents:                              Exits: Gunsmith Malion                       [SH] Offworld Shuttles Starrunner Swiftfoot                  [LA] Launch IND Saviour's Haste                   [STR] Stairs Food, Rest, and Entertainment Sign    [TU] Tube Refueling Console - Centauri

Jeff Ryan disembarks from the IND Saviour's Haste.

Malion follows the Demarian across to the tube. "Fuck no," he replies, peering down the tube.

Swiftfoot shifts her gaze to the gunsmith. "Cmon, live a little." After a moment, she chuckles and goes back to looking over the edge. "I'm messin with you. I wouldn't do it unless therre was a substantial sum of money involved. Maybe not even then."

Malion looks up to the Demarian and laughs. "I'd do it, but me falling ability is as lame as me piloting... I'd manage to block up the tubing somehow... If there -was- a large amount of cash, then yeah, I'd be doing it."

A rare humanoid figure walks up the stairs from the the Shalyaris customs area. Looking tired and wearworn the man walks towards the vessel marked 'IND Saviour's Haste'.

"That'd be prretty damn funny," Swiftfoot says, chuckling. "Until I had to go get you out of therre, that is." She snorts, then her attention shifts to the humanoid. She taps Mal on the shoulder and jerks her head in the direction of the ship. The Demarian then hitches a sizeable satchel up onto her shoulder and pads toward the Haste. Malion glances across to where the Demarian had indicated, and follows her at a brisk pace to keep up.

Jeff Ryan is arriving at the Haste when he notices the demarian and her martian gunsmith. He raises his hand in greeting and waits for them, "Hello there."

"Evening," the Demarian replies, inclining her head politely. "Orr perrhaps it's morrning by now. I'm not so surre anymorre myself." She chuckles, the end of her tail flicking absently.

"How ya going?" Malion asks, being quite civil towards the Lunite. He reaches into an pocket in his grey jacket and pulls out a packet of smokes, takes one for himself and offers one to Jeff.

Jeff Ryan laughs at Swiftfoot, but definitely an amused laugh going by the lunite's body-language, however strange the sound that accompanies it. He nods, "I keep the ship's clock at Luna Standard, what my body grew up with and I see no reason to argue." He smiles, which slowly grows into a grin and shakes his head to Malion, "No thanks, I quit a while back."

Swiftfoot snorts softly. "I think Jackal is on Ungstirr time. Something like that, anyhow. I ought to just go by the time on Demarria, seeing as I'm therre most of the time anyhow. But that, my frriend, would be the intelligent thing to do. And then, I would have one less thing to complain about." The felinoid chuckles, her whiskers bristling.

Malion shrugs, and replaces the offered smoke back into his pack. "It's alright mate," he replies, as he puts the packet away and lights up his own. For the time being he remains silent, and listens to the conversation.

The lunite, nods, still smiling at Swiftfoot and glances towards her load, "Mind dropping them aboard the Haste for me?" He glances at Malion slightly apologetic at refusing the offer of the smoke. He begins to walk up the boarding ramp to his vessel.

Swiftfoot nods and pads after the Lunite, her tail flicking absently.

Malion starts to walk up the boarding ramp after Swifty and Jeff, flicking his cigarette away.

Jeff Ryan boards the IND Saviour's Haste. Corridor  - IND Saviour's Haste -

The short corridor runs along the portside of the ship, lit from a set of recessed fourescent fixtures hidden withing recessed ceiling coves. The corridor ends in two hatchways for and aft, and halfway along the inboard wall there is a third, more elegant, doorway. Last, outboard, a heavy pressure door accesses the ship's small airlock.

Thu Mar 16 15:48:12 3006 Contents:                              Exits:  Docking Collar  Main Cabin  Stateroom  Cockpit

Jeff Ryan boards through the ship's airlock.

Swiftfoot has arrived. Swiftfoot boards through the ship's airlock. Malion has arrived. Malion boards through the ship's airlock.

Swiftfoot quirks an eyeridge as she ducks to enter the ship, obviously impressed as she looks around. "Hrh, I've flown against a few Spitfirres myself. If she's a match forr that, then she's a damn good ship."

The Martian gunsmith gives a nod of approval as he enters, trying to feign a passing interest. "Not bad," he says. Never on to beat around the bush, he then continues on to ask with a grin, "How big's ya armoury though?"

The man smiles and nods at Swiftfoot, "She is at that." He begins walking towards the stateroom, opening the door, again allowing the others to enter first, "Big enough, though I lost a small fortune when we lost the Lupercalia during the war. I miss my Mark 6, standard pulse pistols or even those pulse assault pistols just don't match up, rate of fire and sheer penetration... If you come across one of those, let me know."

"Funny you should mention the Marrk 6," the Demarian says, chuckling. "That's what I use. Wherre I can get away with it, that is." Swiftfoot blinks in feigned innocence, her head tilting slightly to the side. "Got a pairr, but I'll keep my eyes open forr any morre."

"Screw the energy based crap," Malion states. "Give me an automatic projectile pistol or one of the H and K's... Or a rifle and I'm a happy man. 'Sides, I'd be happier when I get that fiddy cal." The gunsmith starts to grin like a mad man.

The hatch slides to the left, allowing access to private stateroom. Stateroom  - IND Saviour's Haste -

There is an air of quiet simplicty which frames the room, bringing the subtle touch of elegance to the finely appointed quarters. The far wall is dominated by a single window, a long narrow band of clear polycomposite glazing reaching from the carpeted floor to the latticed ceiling above. Beyond its crystal pane the stars slowly pass, looking out to the sable depths. Outboard is a recessed bunk and storage units, an efficient array of elegant casework. The bed is neatly made, its single pillow set square at its head. Sheets and bedding are the finest satin, falling in fancy pleated folds. The bed is set into the wall of exquisite millwork. Above, below, and to the sides the cabinetry becomes a paneled grid of polished ebony and mahoghany, trimmed with mother or pearl inlays. Some panels are doors, some for storage cubbies, and others are displays, monitors and commlink, the pragmatic links to the officer's world. Inboard is a workstation, flanked by a pair of fine mahogany and leather chairs. The workstation wraps the far corner of room, its data display and workpad set flush in the finely polished desktop. Upon the screen is traced a lattice of coloured lines and scrolling shipping schedules, as  well as readouts repeated from the ship's bridge.

Thu Mar 16 16:04:08 3006 A storage locker is here. Contents:                              Exits:  Out

Malion enters from the corridor. Malion has arrived.

Swiftfoot enters from the corridor. Swiftfoot has arrived.

"A pair eh?" says Ryan smiling. "If you decide to sell one, I'll offer twice market value, a man in my position need all the help he can get." He gestures to the bed and makes his way over to one of the leather chairs in front of the desk-top. "There's fine." As he takes his seat, "I'm checked out on those, in the resistance we used whatever we could get our hands on, and as it usually came from the Fleeters... Still I'm happier with a Mark 6." He sits down.

"Fancy," Swiftfoot comments, looking around. "Jackal's a bit morre... utilitarrian." She chuckles, and pads over to the bunk, sliding the satchel off her shoulder and setting it down atop the bedding. The Demarian shakes her head faintly as she turns back to the Lunite. "Hrh, I have to tell you, I feel naked on this planet. Can't even carry a damn stun pistol."

Malion walks in after Swifty and leans against the bulkhead head nearest the corridor. The gunsmith crosses his arms across his chest as if thinking for a moment. He taps his fingers against his hands, and then bites his lower lip, as he tries to get it completely figured out.

The lunite chuckles, "On Shalyaris you don't need to carry weapons, someone with hostile intent wouldn't get to draw." The chair swivels, so he does. "I feel more protected here unarmed than I would on Sivad with a battalion at my back." He pulls out his PDA as he speaks, "The money's transferred, along with a small 10 percent first-business bonus." He then throws the PDA in Mal's direction with a grin. A slow lob, so the martian has time to catch it.

Swiftfoot tilts her head to the side, one ear flicking absently. "Hrh. You've got a point. Old habits, I suppose." She fishes her own PDA out of a pocket, tapping at the screen briefly before she nods. "Surre enough. Thanks, chief. You didn't have to do that, but I apprreciate it." The Demarian shifts her gaze back up to the Lunite, smiling faintly and pocketing the device. "You know, we'll have to get togetherr forr a drrink orr two sometime, now that you know I can be trrusted, meh?"

Malion quickly unfolds his arms and catches the PDA, he blinks and looks down to it. "Bloody hell," he says, in surprise. The gunsmith looks back to Jeff, with a raised brow. "What the hell am I meant to do with this?"

The lunite raises an eyebrow at the demarian, "Trusted? Not yet, but please don't take it personally. I don't entirely trust my colleagues or my..." He trails off at that, "Trust doesn't come easily to me, but give it time." He's in the Centauran Freehold and surrounded by his allies, trust probably hasn't even entered his mind. He chuckles at Malion, "Whilst I appreciated the attempt, there's less dangerous ways to gather some types of information. I suggest a more low-key approach next time, alcohol usually helps loosen the tongue in a way that will put your quarry at ease. I'll pay for information I can use, if your earlier message leads to something definite, there will be prize money and possibly not just from myself." He holds out his hand for the return of his PDA.

"No offense taken," the orange-furred felinoid replies, chuckling. "I've got a rratherr loose definition of the worrd 'trrust,' I suppose." Swiftfoot tilts her head to the side then, one ear canted back thoughtfully. "Just look at it this way, Torr would prrobably have my hide forr a rrug if I had it in my head to trry anything untowarrd herre."

The gunsmith grins at the mention of payment, and then he carefully tosses the PDA back towards Jeff. "I'll keep that in mind next time," Malion replies. "Ain't used to evesdropping for info."

Jeff Ryan catches the PDA in his hand and chuckles himself at Swiftfoot, "I doubt that, Hotshot and me came to blows twice. I think the only reason he never tried to shoot me was Mika wouldn't allow it." He nods his head smiling at the memory, "Still, trust or no, perhaps we /can/ work on that over a drink sometime. Though I won't be hanging around my usual haunts until this bounty is off my head." As he pockets the PDA he nods to Malion, "As I said yesterday, just be careful. It's a dangerous business and the sivadians have the death penalty for it."

Swiftfoot snorts softly, a wry smile creeping across her face. "Torr wanting to hit someone? Surrely you'rre thinking of a differrent man than I am." She chuckles, and shakes her head. "Mika is a good frriend of mine, not to mention she's still my employerr. Errgo, I'm morre than willing to do business with associates of herrs." The end of the felinoid's tail flicks, and she quirks an eyeridge. "Hrh, Sivad. Go figurre. I can harrdly blame you forr being cagey, if they'rre afterr you. I do apprreciate the calculated rrisk you took in apprroaching me."

Malion swallows hard, and nods. "Don't get caught eve's dropping on the gits... Got it," he says, his voice showing his nervousness. He crosses his arms across his chest one more, and fidgets slightly.

Ryan gestures towards the empty chair, he nods at the mention of Mika, however, "Calculated risk? It was damned foolish." A wry grin, "Or perhaps an insight into the future. However, I am grateful that your crew haven't decided to attempt collecting the bounty themselves. If I was in your position I would be tempted." Ryan smiles at the young martian, "Don't worry, I will never ask yourself to put yourself in danger on my account, only do what you're prepared to, nothing more or less." There's a sort of... understanding in his eyes.

"Ain't got any bloody intention of putting meself in too much danger," Malion replies, with a chuckle. With a more serious tone in his voice he then replies, "Mind you, depends how much the situation might net me, as to how much shit I stir up."

"We'rre not in the bounty hunting business," the Demarian states simply, punctuating the statement with a faint shrug. "I think it's best left to those with less of an attachment to their own skins, to be quite honest with you." Swiftfoot holds up a paw and shakes her head politely. "As much as I'd love to, if I sit down, I'll end up staying herre and chatting all night. I left the Jackal on the landing pad on Ungstirr, so I should prrobably be getting back. The Kommissarrs, unlike myself, bearr no love forr that ship."

"I doubt it'll cause much of a stir," says Jeff rubbing his eyes. "However if your current line of questioning turns up anything particularly interesting it might help New Luna stay out of the hands of the Sivadians. Sadly I can't do anything with what we currently have, nothing more than conjecture and wild theories on my part." He nods to the orange-furred felinoid, "I understand, I've had more than a few... run-ins with the Kommisarrs myself, I much prefer the ambience of triple-niner." He nods towards the kevlar on his bed, "Thank you for picking those up."

Swiftfoot nods, offering a faint smile. "Not a prroblem, chief. It was a simple enough matterr. I'll see what I can do about the Marrk 6, though it might take some digging, seeing as how they'rre RNS issue. You'll underrstand if I'd rratherr not parrt with one of mine at this point, I'm surre." The felinoid tilts her head to the side then. "Hrh, if the Sivadians make a grrab forr New Luna, I'm up forr whateverr I can do to make theirr lives miserrable. I still have to pay them back for tearring Jackal to pieces."

Malion gives a quick nod, and then leaves his leaning position. "Bloody Kommisars," he mutters. "Blaming me for starting that last bar fight, bastards. It was Swifty I tell ya... Swifty." A lopsided, roguish smile starts to play across his lips. "I hear anything mate, about yaself or New Luna, I'll let ya know. 'Sides, I hate the Sivadians meself... Arrogant prats. Give me a sniper rifle and I'll give them some pain if the shit starts." With that said, he makes his way towards the door.

Stifling a yawn the lunite stands to show his guests to the door, "Very much appreciated. Just stay out of trouble."

Malion punches in a keypad code and exits. Malion has left.

Swiftfoot punches in a keypad code and exits. Swiftfoot has left.