Chasing Ghosts

Blackjack Shipping and Salvage 


 * Though showing signs of being gutted, retrofitted, jury-rigged, and bludgeoned numerous times over to fit a desired function or requirement, this service hangar within the belly of the technological beast known as the Junkyard is never-the-less a functional and adequate bay of repair and restoration for any vessel that requires sanctuary within its cavernous depths. On the whole, the hangar can at best be described as rustic, and at worse recited as being derelict. Arsenic grey and rust brown is the palette of choice here, dripping off the various bulkheads and support beams that keep the service hangar intact, while strip-lights of dirty white and amber provide whatever ambient light is able to penetrate the shadows that hold court here.


 * Yet, for all the achromatic hues and ramshackle features that characterize the area, it is nothing if not a technological packrat's dream, standing as a virtual museum of trinkets and memorabilia that have some nostalgic value to those that own the service hangar. Most prominent of all, given positions of honor upon the walls, hang the plate registries for the TSS Lupercalia and DCV Faux, and a rockhopper nameplate that reads "Anubis", with each highlighted by small spotlights, standing out from the gloom.


 * Finally, a vast and flowing banner of cloth and velvet hangs upon the far wall as a beacon of pure anachronism, standing out like proclamation of territory that would seem to belong to an earlier time. It depicts a red jackal's head upon a field of black, watching over the service hangar as if stationed as a guard to challenge all who would dispute the ownership of this area - the face of a smaller god.

No rest for the wicked or the weary, and Mika Tachyon is no exception. Here in the heart of her rundown hangar, she paces idly around a crew of ragtag salvors and engineers -- Morgan's men, from the look of it, and a smattering of unrecognizable freelancers -- who busy themselves with the epic task of settling a broken-down and carbon-scored passenger transport in in a berth of a service bay. Arms hugged about herself to ward off the chill of artificial atmosphere, she looks on in confusion.

Still sporting the last, faded remnants of their scuffle over cheek and eye - and looking all the grumpier for it - Kit appears to locate the rogue with unerring accuracy, striding straight over and stopping beside the former captain before taking a longer look around.

"I dunno either," Mika offhands to Kit, her eyes never leaving the workmen and the wreck. "I leave fer a couple blinkin' days an' th' world goes mad." She frees up her good hand to wipe her nose and sniff. "Story o' me bloody life."

Kit shrugs nonchalantly in the face of such dire proclamations, though her gaze slants speculatively toward the woman. "The world has always been mad. You just seem to selectively notice it. What happened now?"

Mika shrugs in unintentional echo of Kit's indifference, her scarfed head shaking to indicate her ignorance of the situation. "Work, work, work," she complains, albeit halfheartedly; this is, after all, her life's calling. Finally, she turns green eyes upon the other woman, one corner of her mouth quirking into a grin. "Wot's th' 'aps?"

A soft snort and visibly refraining from rolling her eyes, Kit takes a last look around at the activity before focusing upon her companion. "I'm ready to make the attempt to locate the ship." A subconscious wince, and she adds in a mutter, "Hopefully, this time, intervention will not be necessary."

At first, Mika can only blink, but that hint of perplexity swells into full-blown stupid blank-faced cluelessness quick enough. "Oh. Alright." Another round of blinking, and it soon becomes apparent that she's not so much looking at the cyberwitch as looking through her, as if searching the air for some indication of what to do next. "Um. So... do I..." She scratches the back of her head. "Wot d'ye need me ta do?"

This time, it is Kit who offers a sidelong smirk before she turns upon a heel to head back toward the main hangar. "Get ready to run if I tell you to. Though this being the Junkyard, you will have a bit of a grace period."

This time, it's Mika's turn to suppress a roll of the eyes, though her attempts at self-control are markedly less successful than Kit's. Half-turning to send a look toward the departing woman, the rogue asks, "So shoul' I be 'eatin' up th' stardrive?"

"If you think they have agents on the Junkyard, then yes," Kit notes over her shoulder. "Otherwise, you have however long it takes for whomever cares enough to mobilize something in this direction."

Mika's jaw sets in obvious frustration, her eyes fixing upon a ceiling panel irritably. "If I think," she paraphrases with a snort of disbelief. A sigh is blown out before she hurries after Kit. "I don't know wot we're lookin' at, crazyass. I'm shootin' blin\' 'ere! You tell me, goddamnit!"

Apparently in a particularly obliging mood, Kit stops though she has a frown on her face when she turns to meet the rogue. "This is your territory," she points out with a sniff. "And I do not know why someone placed the ship under a classified heading, but if it takes me more than twenty minutes to figure out how to get around it, I get the general idea that I better move somewhere else that I can get out of fast and leave no traces if I am going to dig deeper." A shrug and she gives Mika a vaguely exasperated look. "I do not have any absolutes, and that is just the way it is. It's all feints and bluffs - sometimes, someone is able to follow through with that bluff, so you had better be prepared for it."

"Wotever," capitulates Mika, lifting her hands in surrender, suddenly exhausted with the whole thing. "Jus' earn yer blinkin' dinner, Kittiannia."

This time, Kit indulges thoroughly in the eye-roll. "If you have nothing better to do, you may as well come with me, then," she notes blandly as she begins to continue on her original path. "You are not going to do the workers any good, the mood you're in right now."

For once in her life, Mika does not rise to the bait - though she does glare sidelong at the Sivadian, hands stuffed sullenly into her pockets.

Kit continues on the few steps left to the edge of the service bay before pausing briefly upon its threshold, casting a single look back before she ducks out - wordlessly leaving it up to Mika whether to follow or not.

You head into Hermes' Landing .

As they pass through The Junkyard and eventually board The Raider...

The hatch's heavy panels slide aside, allowing access to the wardroom.

Crew Quarters 


 * The narrow passage opens up into a small wardroom. This space is ingeniously outfitted; its furniture and surfaces configured to serve either under nominal local gravity conditions, or that provided by the freighter's acceleration. Flanking the wardroom are a set of personal bunk modules containing a bed with built-in cabinetry, storage lockers, and privacy screens. Forward, a compact efficiency kitchen is located starboard, while to the portside is a small refresher unit. Between the two we find a little fitness space with a punching bag and workout center and a cozy niche with a fold-out sleeper couch and holoviewer.


 * Gentle light flows down from coves recessed into the dorsal and side wall framing, softly illuminating the room. Its deckplates are sturdy and diamond-gridded and provide a tough, rugged utilitarian feel.


 * There are a lot fewer bottles around than might normally be the case. However, the scent of alcohol which permeates the air might lead one to believe the sleeping quarters were simply doused in them all rather than anyone actually drinking them down.

Mika enters from the spinal corridor.

Mika has arrived.

The smell of cheap hooch is like a punch in Mika's face when the wardroom's hatch cycles. Wrinkling her nose, the junker claps her gloved hand reflexively over the bottom half of her face, preferring the scent of kevlar and leather despite her own alcoholic tendencies. "I swear," she all but growls, eyes narrowing. "Toasty runs this place like a bleedin' fratern'ty."

Kit takes a single step inside before her next foot pauses mid-air, as if physically incapable of taking one more stride inside. Face frozen in one of those expressionless masks which only betrays the effort of holding it in place, she takes a carefully shallow breath before noting with a discreet slide backwards, "At least the place will be generally disinfected. May I suggest the bridge instead?" Without waiting for a response, she turns abruptly to head back into the corridor, calling out as she does so, "Ariel! Air out the crew quarters as best you can...maybe the worst of it will evaporate. Let us just hope somenoe does not attempt to light a cigarette."

"Yeah, sure," Mika agrees, glancing around with open disapproval. "Bridge works. Wote'er."

The hatch's heavy panels slide aside, allowing return to the ship's main corridor.

And then on up to the bridge...

Clambering up the forward ship's ladder, you activate the hatch and enter the ship's command center.

Bridge 


 * The hatchway opens up to a small metal platform which overlooks a compact command center. Light filters out from hidden coves, evenly illuminating the bridge consoles. A rainbow of telltales and monitors add a touch of color, breathing life into the maze of metal and machinery. A few steps down, the main terminals are arranged in a rough semicircle, following the curvature of the ship's bow. Twin stations centered beneath the main canopy face forward, while another pair face the port and starboard, situated on either side of the cockpit just before two bulky turrets outfitted with the gunnery controls and targeting computers. The whole space is tight-packed, with little room to move when all positions are occupied.

Madeline enters from the spinal corrior.

Madeline has arrived.

Kit takes a grateful breath of clearer air as she settles into her accustomed seat before the communications console, reaching into the compartment next to it to take out a tablet before slumping down comfortably into the chair. "Ariel, hover second screen over the comm console, reserve a third for later commands," she orders as soon as she is settled, one foot braced on a strut to form a surface against which she works. The daemon's acknowledgment comes in the form of a window opening next to Kit's elbow, the screen currently blank.

Mika does not take a seat, preferring to lean against the back of the chair Kit has occupied with arms crossed atop its crown. She watches with idle interest, flicking glances this way and that in search of the holographic creature. When it makes no appearance, she seems to relax a little more.

Madeline climbs up the ladder, a bit on the sweaty side with various splotches of grease over her. "Hey, girls," she says as she heads for the engineering console.

With tablet braced against bent knee, Kit's fingers are already busily setting up the tools she needs - eyes flicking once toward the holographic window as output screens are directed there, satisfying herself with their layout before concentrating once more upon the native screen upon the tablet. "Good evening. May I suggest that you refrain from any modifications for the time being?" she responds absently, gaze never wavering from her work. "The computing systems may be taxed in a moment, and we should endeavor to keep the ship in flight-worthy status until this is done, either way."

"I've a new toy wot fer ye ta play with any'ow, Mads," notes Mika, grinning toothily toward her fellow engineer. "Th' lads dumped a fine li'l run'bout in th' 'angar wot needs a spit-shine."

Jaswinder enters from the spinal corrior.

Jaswinder has arrived.

Madeline stops on her way to the console, and wanders over to stand next to Mika. She folds her arms across her chest. "What kind of runabout?" she asks the little captain.

Kit's slumped at the comm terminal with a number of screens queued up for some sort of srs bzns. Mika's watching over the back of the chair, and Maddie just posed so never mind her.

Onto the bridge stumbles a Timonae who's been thorougly powerwashed, combed, braided, and dressed...and has therefore been upgraded to 'death warmed over'. It was probably a hot powerwash. Jazz leans on the wall as if quite sure it'll go somewhere the minute he blinks, violet eyes narrowing at the viewscreen. "...Huh."

A few last commands, and then the flurry of input abruptly stops. "Ariel, reserve screen forward of me, output any messages from processes 357 through 380 to it," she says as she absently flexes her fingers and then tilts her head back to regard Mika above her. "Ready when you are. When it starts, I will mostly be monitoring with a minimum of input until we've passed the watchdogs - at these speeds, the tools will be doing most of the work. If anything pops up there," she levels a finger without looking toward the gray holographic window that has popped up directly before her, currently blank, "that means trouble."

Mika meets Kit's look with a lopsided smile, one tail of her red headscarf draping about her shoulder when she turns her head to regard the woman. "I was born ready, crazyass. Do't." A wink, a wordless vote of confidence that she would never dare give voice, then she's canting her head toward the new arrivals. "Oh, uh... a Dasher, if I 'adda guess," the junker informs Madeline, approximating the vessel's design by tracing a triangular shape in the air. "All angles. Built like an arrow, an' prolly jus' a quick. Sorta like Jazz." A beat, a wider smile for the Timonae. "Look 'live, mate."

"Interesting," Maddie says with a smirk. She looks over her shoulder to the Timonae. "Long night?"

Jaswinder answers Mika's smile with a lopsided one that doesn't - yet - have the energy of his usual. "What's the job, chosen of Maza?" he drawls, somewhat hoarsely. Blinking at Maddie, he answers somewhat disinterestedly, "Depends on what day it is."

One corner of Kit's mouth twitches upwards near-imperceptibly before she is promptly returning her attention to the data tablet. And then, with the oddly anachronistic command of, "Ariel, attend," she executes a final command...and the first forays deep into Odarite cyber-territory begins.

Shifting her weight against the chair to include all three persons in her line of vision, Mika crossed her legs at the ankles, hooking one thumb through a belt loop. "I los' a ship on Odari, durin' th' Phyrrian War," she explains to Jazz. "Th' IND Jackal. Me goddamned baby. Since I dunno where 't ran off ta, I 'ired someone wot's good at findin' things." Kit is indicated with a slight jerk of her head.

"Hopefully still in one piece," Maddie adds.

Jaswinder blinks again...a few times, then uses his fingers to clean his eyelashes off. "Mm. Right." Once he can see again, the tattooed Timonae finds an open chair to slink into. "So the fun is if someone finds us before we find it?"

Kit seems oblivious to the byplay around her, gaze flicking between the tablet's screen and the second window, across which scroll various lines of esoteric output. Her fingers remain poised, every so often redirecting a query, before she abruptly announces, "I'm in, and hijacked an appropriate account. Accessing the data..." she reports, to the accompaniment of a steady spate of typing now as she navigates the system internally.

''Kit cuts through the red tape like a hot knife through butter. Data floods every screen but the dreaded 'red alert' -- her actions are undetected. Speed and caution are her allies here, the clock is ticking... but the most sensitive transactions of the Odarite Merchant's Guild are at her disposal. There is enough her for one person to blackmail the entire planet, should he so desire...''

''PRI-0105-AK4. The registration number leaps out at Kit. The entry is flagged; curiously, it's the only entry with said flag.''

"Already?" Mika asks abruptly, peering quizzically at the cyberwitch. Her crewbies forgotten, the rogue grips both sides of the cushioned seatback to peer over Kit's shoulder as if there were some snowball's chance in hell that she could possibly make sense of anything she sees. "Wot's it say?"

Jaswinder tilts his head back, possibly contemplating the ceiling. "And the rum's gone."

"Processes run at the speed of light, and the networks faster than that," Kit reminds with an absent shrug, a frown slowly knitting her brow as she explores. "I found it," she continues after a beat, though she does not sound as triumphant as the information might warrant. "It had been flagged...accessing notes..." she mumbles, voice trailing off once more as she focuses.

''Whoever impounded the ship wasn't just some grease-monkey junker -- this person had know-how. Ariel's capabilities were recognized, and the Jackal was noted as a "special" find. There seems to have been some tug-of-war between the OMG and someone else, a third party. Kit's identifies this third party effortlessly.''

The Overmind.

Absently, as if Jazz's words were filtering in from some other dimension, Mika fishes the scuffed silver flask from her breast pocket and hands it over to the Timonae, still puzzling over the alien display before her.

Madeline idly scratches her head as she watches the fun scroll by.

Jaswinder might have heard the sound of swishing liquid. An arm snakes out to snag the offered flask, open and down two swallows before the taste registers. Timonae eyes do a 'O.o?' impression quite well.

A subtle stillness overcomes the Sivadian after a few seconds tick by, different from the air of expectation she had exhibited before while waiting for commands to be executed. Her gaze strays from the screens for the first time since she began, darting up toward Mika. "They found Ariel II. There was a conflict over the ship's custody...between the OMG and the Overmind," she says, quick and terse, jaw tight as she abruptly dives in once more to chase down the ship's location this time.

"The Overmin\'?!" Mika barks incredulously, demanding immediately on the heels of her outburst, "wot th' shit does that mean? Can ye fin' 't?"

"They wanted the ship?" Maddie asks thoughtfully.

Jaswinder still seems to mostly be eyeballing the flask. A long tongue snakes out to sample just a bit of the contents. "Never would've figured you for cognac," he says. Then, belatedly catching up, "It's a silly evil little thing, that's like the Overmind on a small scale. Probably got rescued."

''The Overmind won. The ship was transported to Phyrria, and recycled. Of that, there is no doubt. Records incidate it left and right. The IND Jackal is no more.''

''So why are there transmission logs? So many of them, back and forth, back and forth, between Overmind and Jackal. Overmind and Jackal. Overmind and... and... nobody. Nobody. Nobody. Nobody.''

''The final broadcast from Phyrria was sent shortly before the war's end. Its destination: Ungstir. Kit has no trouble pinpointing their intended destination.''

Something Mika recognizes appears, and her countenance lights up, a dim flicker of hope. "Coordinates," she muses aloud. A smile ghosts her features, and she's all too happy to share it with Madeline and the boozing Timmie. "Coordinates."

Puzzlement slowly steals over Kit's countenance as she continues exploring, and then she shifts abruptly - a short, almost nervous gesture as she searches for another position before finally dully answering Mika's growing enthusiasm, "The Jackal's been recycled. The entire ship's gone. But there are transmission logs...communications between the Overmind and Jackal, over and over again...until the Jackal stops responding. And the Overmind continues for a time, until the last broadcast just a little before the war's end. The intended destination is what you're seeing - Ungstir."

"Scrapped?" Maddie asks, "Makes things a bit harder."

To say Mika is crestfallen is wildly inaccurate. Rather, it looks like someone punched a bullet right through her gut. Everything about her just - dims, like the sun dipping below the horizon. "So wot's in Persev'rance," she asks, voice lifeless, lost. "Ungstir's gone."

Jaswinder hms, then samples a bit more from the flask. "Was it talking to its taskers, or to Ariel?"

Kit remains quiet for a moment as she scans a few more pages, before releasing a sigh and slumping into the seat back, tilting a sympathetic look up towards the rogue. It is all she allows, however, before she continues quietly, "The messages the Overmind were sending...all of them were demanding that the Jackal return to be terminated. The Jackal initially responded with refusals, and then didn't deign to respond at all." Her expression twists, and her tone gains a decidedly bemused air as she concludes, "There is something of Jackal still scuttling around out there somewhere, even if the ship shell has been scrapped, as Madeline says." A sideways look toward the Timonae, and she inclines her head. "The Jackal...or something of Ariel. Or maybe even a tasker with an identity crisis."

Madeline looks to Mika and wraps an arm around the tiny captain's shoulders. "So where is the something?"

"That bird ne'er was nothin' but trouble," Mika remarks, a certain fondness underscoring her defeat. She folds her arms, looking first to Madeline, then to Jazz, and then finally over Kit's head and to the trio of screens. "Where do those coordinates point?" the pirate asks. "I'm goin' after 't."

Jaswinder shrugs. "Maybe it thought Ariel was a tasker?" he asks. "I dunno much about taskers. But if it thought Ariel was one, then it's pretty certain Ariel didn't act like a proper one. Don't see how it could. Worth checking though. Might at least save some revamp."

''This time, Kit does not have to pick through the data. The information she needs comes easily - the answer manifesting in a remote part of her brain, racing across her conscious thoughts without any effort on her part.''

''// ... accessing file ... access granted ... translating ... UNGSTIR PLANETARY DESIGNATION U-001 ... alias "AVALON" ... //''

Kit snorts, apparently darkly amused by Jaswinder's depiction of Ariel, before she responds to the question of location without so much as a glance toward the attendant screens. "Ungstir planetary designation U-001...alias 'Avalon'."

"A chunk of rock that survive?" Maddie asks.

"Avalon." Mika's lips twist into a strange frown. "I know Avalon." She swallows. "Katya got married there. 'er an' Melody." Worrying at her lip, she adds distantly, "a long time 'go."

Silence bridges the gap between that thought and then next, after which Mika disentangles herself from Maddie's friendly side-hug to turn and stalk for the corridor. "Tell Toasty I'm goin' get me ship," she announces without looking back. "An' Kit's bloody cat."

"By yourself?" answers a certain Ungstiri. How long Vadim's been hanging in the stairway leading up to bridge is unknown, but the man has this odd thoughtful look on his face, leaning agasint the bulkhead. "Should know me better than that, da?"

Kit blinks, and then blinks again through Mika's reminiscence and then her declaration before scowling with familiar irritation after the rogue. "Ariel is not a cat," she hisses in fair imitation of what she protests, before huffing and rapidly moving to withdraw her connections from the Odarite systems, shutting everything down safely one after the other.

Madeline watches Mika as she retreats. "Sounds like fun," she says.

"For the whole family," says Jazz dryly, and upends that flask into his mouth. "Makes a fair nightcap. Guess next time I look out at a bunch of rocks." Getting up, he says, "Meantime I'll just crash. Maybe light a match and clear the fumes."

Mika has left.

Madeline has left.

Jaswinder has left.

Vadim grunts something unintelligible while moving away from the stairway. "Seems like I always miss the important information." he states. "So something about Avalon, and I can only guess its information preceeding towards the Jackal. Figures the few times I'm off doing a bit of info gathering that I miss out."

The holographic screens wink out, and Kit wipes the screen of the tablet clear of data through the simple expedient of sliding her flattened hand across its touch-sensitive surface. "It was hardly an open festival declared to all and sundry," Kit responds blandly, leaning over to tuck the device away before rotating an arm; stretching its shoulder with a grimace. "However, the number of habitable areas on the ship was reduced by Mr. Jaswinder Audra, and it seemed that they naturally gravitated here. The Jackal is gone," she finishes in the same mild tone as she stands. "Scrapped. We are now chasing its ghost to Avalon."

Hossomi enters from the spinal corrior.

Hossomi has arrived.

Vadim has just entered while Kit has stood from the comms console, apparently on her way out in the other direction, though the two are exchanging a few words on the way.

"Funny how I miss those kind of things." Vadim replies dryly. He doesn't comment on Jazz, since the matter of hiring him the Timmie was done last week, he instead plucks the waiting cigarette from behind his ear and places it between two lips without actually lighting it. "Assumed it would be. Damn Phyrrians scrapped alot of ships for parts. But ghost?" he then asks. "Since that coming from you, I take somehow the Bandit system is somehow still functioning?" The man chews on the filter of his smoke for a moment. "Huh. Impressive work if thats the case."

Kit's eyes follow the path of the cigarette for a moment before she finally responds, apparently satisfied by its unlit status. "I installed a mark two version of Ariel on the Jackal. This, apparently, attracted the Overmind's attention, and it won a brief custody battle with OMG over the ship before it was scrapped. There is still something running around, however, that is using the Jackal's ID, and the last known location for it is Avalon, just before the end of the Phyrrian War. The Overmind had been sending constant transmissions for it to return to be terminated." A thin smile and a bare incline of the head is given in response to the compliment before she muses on her way toward the exit, "I suppose we will soon see just what it is that has been masquerading as the Jackal. Perhaps it is little more than a confused Phyrrian tasker."

Kit lucked out when Vadin left it unlit, not so much for Hossomi, who wanders in with a lit cigarette that has a beautiful tinge of pink when he exhales it in a stinky cloud. Which he does as soon as he comes through the door. Unfortunatly, Kit was just EXITING. There's bad there.

Another nod from Vadim. "Thats something I don't I think I would've expected, but its not out of the relam of possibility." he admit, the smoke now neatly tucked into the corner of his mouth. "If anything else, it'll make a possible ordinary slavage job into something a bit more interesting. Might as well make preperation to leave in a bit. Spaciba for the update." Letting Kit get on her way, he begins to move for the pilot's chair.

Vadim has left.

Kit may have been peripherally aware of Hossomi's entrance, but not wholly cognizant of what he is doing - she walks face-first into the first exhale after a brisk nod to Vadim, and doubles over coughing as if she had been hit by a two-by-four instead. She struggles to dredge up something suitably scathing for a moment, before giving it up for cleaner air, sliding quickly past Hossomi with a dirty look while the sounds of her trying to clear her lungs continues to echo from the corridor.