Meter Maid

Meter Maid: Lost in Cyberia - Part II

Once inside the building, the Athenauts find themselves in a large lobby where people hurry to and fro, on their way to do whatever brings them here. No one looks particularly happy to be here, including the people working. Like the security guard stationed off to one side of the entrance. A harried looking clerk mans the front desk, directing the lost on where they need to go.

Mazzonnoz produces a slip of paper from his jacket, offering it to Renkek. "This is our summons," he says. "Why don't you go over there and find out where exactly we need to go to settle it." Now, as with his entire time on the planet, his eyes are on the lookout for computer terminals.

There don't seem to be any public terminals in the lobby, just the one the clerk has on his desk.

Renkek Kashaan nods and gets the summons from noz and heads to the clerk and waits till he's called forward and shows the paper long enough to let the clerk read it "Where would we need to go from here to have this matter settled sir?" Ren asks the clerk.

Volidana walks in cloaked, head covered, body mostly obscured though it has to hide an eight month pregnant belly

Mazzonnoz stands close enough to Renkek that it's obvious he isn't loitering, but not so close that it could be construed that he's "with" the man. Perhaps he's waiting in line behind the Waldheimer?

Kastaprulyi remains close to Newt, observing with enthusiasm and curiosity, though it keeps sufficiently quiet to look like a decorative floating... something.

The clerk finally glances up to see what the hold-up is, and rolls his eyes at Ren. "What's it for?" he asks impatiently, not bothering to read it.

Renkek Kashaan nods "It's a parking ticket on the landing pad, charging the GMF Athena for blocking a loading zone." he replies saying nothing more for now.

Newt pipes up, "I did /not/ block any loading zone."

Hezekiah sticks close to Volidana, keeping an arm ready to aid her if she needs, with the difficulties pregnancy can cause to movement. He glances around for a chair, in case she should need, leaning to murmur to her. "Are you doing alright, light to me?"

That generates a frown from the clerk, and his gaze slides over to Newt, and then to Kas, and his eyes widen slightly. Suddenly he doesn't appear quite so bored. "Riiiiight," he answers, stalling for a moment before shaking his head. "Down that hall, to the left, turn, 3 doors down on the right," he instructs, narrowing his eyes at the rest of the crew.

Renkek Kashaan nods "Thank you sir." he comes back to the rest of the crew and nods as he repeats the directions motioning as he does so. "Down the hall, to the left, turn, 3 doors down on the right." he nods briefly "seems easy enough."

Kastaprulyi somehow manages to avoid greeting the clerk telepathically, instead offering him a little wave with the end of one arm. Kas lingers for a few moments to look around, moving in the indicated direction only slowly at first.

Volidana nods and does indeed lean slightly on her husband as she moves to follow after Remkek,the smallest flicker of light showing through the opening in the cloak

The clerk blinks at the Centauran for a moment, utterly non-plussed at having a tentacle waved at him. His eyes, along with most of the rest of the lobby, follow the group as they depart. There's an odd pause in everyone's activities as they simply stand and stare.

Newt looks from the clerk to Kas and back again, letting out a slight snigger.

Renkek Kashaan leads the group to the indicated area and looks around a bit himself never having reason to have been here before now. He however looks around as if a tourist not like he's lost.

"Are we going to pay the ticket?" Kas inquires curiously in a quiet tone, sliding around to the side of Newt

Following the clerk's directions leads to another somewhat smaller room. A ticket dispenser is immediately apparent upon entering, and the numbers lit up over various counters that line the room would seem to indicate their use. The middle of the room has a collection of chairs where Waldheimer's-- mostly of the lower economic stratum-- wait their turn. The collection of them stare at the motley group with undisguised interest, surprise, and in a few cases, open dislike.

After what must seem like an interminably long wait, a voice overhead calls the number. One of the counters lining the sides of the room has the same number lit up above it, a bored government worker sitting behind the glass separating her from the room at large. The ticket is paid for, the Athenauts are free to go about their business again.