Status Report

''Frustrated with the slow goings of the Sivadians and Athena, Longclaw Silvereye Paintedheart of the Demarian Militia calls upon the aid of the chartered privateers aboard the DMS Faux for an aerial scout of New Alhira. It is an emotional rollercoaster; first a story of despair, but ultimately blossoming into one of hope...''

Bridge - Faux - '''This room seems larger in size then it needs to be in comparison to the rest of the ship's interior. The is a center seat which would serve as a command seat for the ranking member, as well as a few other consoles to control nav, weaponry and a few other ship systems. A viewscreen looks out into space from its place in the front of the ship.'''

>> Outside the Ship: Space around Demaria is eerily quiet tonight. Nine moons glisten and glimmer in their orbit around the homeworld of the tall, proud felinoids; traffic is sparse, but the forms of the wrecked Jackal and the similarly damaged Athena can be seen silently travelling in docking orbit.

>>> COMMNET Silvereye on GEN_SPACE: Athena, this is Paintedheart aboard the Faux. Somebody acknowledge.

"Ah," Ace says as she re-enters the bridge, heading for the pilot's chair, "You have not spoken with the Athena yet?" She settles down in her chair and straps herself in.


 * Anastasia
 * Tall for an Ungstiri, an inch or two shy of six feet, but the way she carries herself gives the impression of even greater height. She is rather broad shouldered, and, though lean of build, very well muscled. She is dressed in clothes that look as if they've been cut to fit her, her white shirt blousy at the sleeves and open at the throat, revealing a heart shaped locket suspended on a chain of liquid silver. The shirt is neatly tucked into loose fitting pants of midnight black, an ebony belt bound through the loops with a simple silver buckle holding it closed. The pants, in turn, vanish into leather boots, dull black and soft, that reach two thirds of the way up her calf. Over it all she wears a grey longcoat made of a supple tanned hide that flows with every move, each step she takes a gentle swirl of mist and fog. The only splash of color comes from the small but elegant diamond and sapphire ring she wears on her left hand.


 * Close at hand she carries an energy pistol that is slung to hang about mid-way down her thigh, a narrow strap binding the bottom of the holster to her leg just above her knee. At her other hip, a nightstick hangs through a leather loop at her belt, her fingertips often brushing against it's grip. Her hair hangs straight down to the small of her back, a curtain of raven black tresses that softly shines in the ambient light. The jagged scar that once marred forehead and the burn scars down the side of her face and neck are now miraculously gone without a trace, leaving a rather beautiful, ebony-eyed woman in their wake.

Torr walks a bit further into the bridge, standing near the middle of the area. He crosses arms over his chest, cigarette hanging from his lips once more. He glances in Silvereye's direction, giving a slight nod but not commenting.


 * Torr
 * This man is fairly tall, broad in shoulder and deep chested. He has green eyes, which always seem to be sharply attentive to the situation at hand. His hair is fairly short, and rises in dark spikes over his forehead. His face is tanned to a golden tint, and it is marked with a few scars which never saw enough medical attention. The most noticable scar is thin, though runs about two inches down the side of his face from below his eye to just above his chin.


 * He wears a blue button up shirt on his torso, the top few buttons left undone. It reveals his well tanned skin, as well as a silver chain - about a centimeter wide. Over this shirt he wears a heavy black jacket, which appears to have metal plates woven into the thick fabric. Hanging from an eyelet at the shoulder of the jacket is a sheath, utilitarian knifegrip protruding. Attatched to another eyelet is a holstered gun. Around his waist is a leather belt, a few compartments hanging off of it. Slung low on his left hip is a black holster, the butt of a gun sticking from it. He wears gray pants, they look tough and descend down his legs. On his feet are black combat boots. When his sleeve rises or his arm is bared, a tatoo of a Jackal's head can be spotted on the bottom side of his wrist.

>>> COMMNET Boomer on GEN_SPACE: Eh? What the fuck? Boomer here, Paintedheart. What's up?

Aisrya slides back in from the corridor, having changed her outfit (and put away the wrench) since her last appearance. Seeing Ace strapping herself in, she heads for the engineering console.


 * Aisrya
 * This tall and slender Timonae female is a handful of centimeters short of two meters tall, about average for her kind. Her olive skin is framed by straight silver hair that reaches to the middle of her back, which is held up in a bun by a pair of chopstick-like contraptions. Her gently sloping face is topped by a pair of violet eyes, and ends near a pair of light pink lips.


 * The woman is dressed in a fairly noteable outfit: a halter top that's a few shades darker than her skin, which is under a black, buttoned-up, fitted shirt that's mostly translucent; and a pair of low-slung, dark denim jeans. The result is a good view of a gracefully sloping torso, from just below her ribs to the bottom of her tight stomach, which shows off enough muscle to present a sensual form, without being overly large; also showing clearly are her similarly defined shoulders.

Once Ace has arrived, the good standing kapitan Raz reliquishes command to likewise ready himself for departure. Stowing his belongings in the cubby under the seat, the tiniest Fauxite buckles up and begins adjusting the co-pilot's equipment for his use, one black-tipped ear twisted toward the Ungstiri as he awaits further orders.


 * Raz Blackpaw
 * This charming, roguish little character doesn't even rise to a full meter in height, skirting just over the halfway mark. Shaggy blond fur covers him from head to toe, marred only by the slathering of a chalky ebon hue on his right paw and left eye, and the very tips of his small, conical ears. His stubby snout is tipped with a leathery black nose and flanked by a pair of bright black eyes that sparkle with the innocence of youth. He's still a cub, this one.


 * He does dress himself nicely, though. Over a simple black tee-shirt he wears a longcoat, red in color, finely tailored and neatly pressed. The garment is fastened all the way to a crisp collar with burnished silver buttons sculpted into smiling skull-and-crossbones. Black fingerless gloves are pulled over his broad, fuzzy paws, while around his neck hangs a charm necklace adorned with carved beads. Slung low upon his waist is a plain leather belt, upon which a holster housing a small firearm hangs opposite a commlink and a small metal tube with a rubberized grip.

>>> COMMNET Silvereye on GEN_SPACE: I can't raise Captain Ranix, Boomer. Let her or anyone else official know that the Faux is undocking and moving towards New Alhira. General reconnaissance.

"Couldn't find Ranix specifically." Silvereye replies to Ace. "So I figure we'll just let them know. The only reason they might not let us back is if we become a biohazard. We'll just have to make sure that doesn't happen." He starts onto the bridge, "Should I take weapons?"

>>> COMMNET Boomer on GEN_SPACE: Huh. Well, we ain't their boss. Well, we appreciate the headsup, that's for sure. Tell those on the Faux, good luck and not worry about Mika or Footy.

Ace nods to Silvereye, "Let us hope they welcome us back," she says as she powers up the engines, "And da, would appreciate it if you would handle turret just in case."

Torr takes a drag from the cigarette once more, exhaling through his nose. "Shit. Footy?" He shakes his head slightly. "Christ." Then he is leaning against the wall, arms still crossed. "Should I sit down or someshit?"

Aneirin takes one of the spare seats and straps himself in, as it happens close to Rya. "I understand biohazard suits will be needed," he directs towards Ace, "I've never used one."


 * Aneirin
 * Standing about average height for his race this Timonae looks quite young, barely even on the cusp of adulthood at a guess, and he always seems to carry himself with a slightly playful air that suggests he knows he is 'pretty' and is flaunting the fact to it's fullest extent.


 * His hair is silver, as typical for Timonae, but shot through with accenting high and low-lights. He wears it in a fashionably shaggy 'spike' style that accents the fact it is cut at seemigly random lenghts as well as highlighting the fact that he probably spends hours getting it 'just so'. His expressive, almost always happy eyes sparkle like the sky on a clear night and it's not just an expression. They are midnight blue and shot through with silver flecks. His skin tone is slightly on the dark side for his race suggesting he likes to spend time in the sun. His face, and in fact most of his body, is almost baby smooth clearly he won't need to worry about shaving for some time yet.


 * This Timonae youth clearly chooses his attire to accentuate his waifish build. It either barely covers, or covers but might as well not as it's almost entirely seethrough. He is presently shirtless the smooth olive brown skin and lean muscles of his upper body fully and openly displayed to all. A pair of loose, stylishy deconstructed jeans with writing on the front of his right hip, sit low around his hips clearly revealing the waistband of his white underwear which has a brand name repeated around it in black. On his feet are a pair of leather flip-flops.

Aisrya pauses a moment after strapping herself in before looking over to Ace. "What stupid thing are we doing?" she asks.

One paw absently reaches down to adjust the dial on Raz's commlink, kicking down the volume a notch while he busies himself with adjusting his headset, and finally, getting to work on scanning the space outside the ship. His eyes scan over the viewscreen, flicking every now and again to the data that appears on his terminal's monitor, and with the press of a few keys that information is transferred to the engineer and pilot.

>> Outside the Ship: The DMS Faux executes a sensor scan of the local space.

Silvereye nods to Ace, moving to take the weapon's console. "About time we do something." He comments to the Captain, strapping himself in and speaking into his commlink again while working the console.

>>> COMMNET Silvereye on GEN_SPACE: Thanks, Boomer. We'll see you again soon.

"Take a seat and strap in, please," Ace replies to Torr as the Faux drifts away from the Athena, "And a worksuit will do, Anei...ever worn one of those?"

>>> COMMNET Ace on GEN_SPACE: Faux to Athena, we are beginning undocking procedures. Will see you soon and spaciba for taking care of Mika and Swiftfoot.

>> Outside the Ship: With a puff of its attitude thrusters, the DMS Faux undocks and pulls free from the other spacecraft.

>>> COMMNET Marlan on GEN_SPACE: Athena to Faux, have a safe trip. Silver, take care of yourself. *pause* Take cause of yourself, da."

Torr nods slightly. "What, Ace, your driving not that good?" He smirks slightly, moving over to an empty seat near the back in dropping into it. He takes the cigarette from his mouth, then straps in.

 Anei says in Timonese then looks to Ace. "Uh... kinda for 'emergency training'."

Aisrya sighs softly at Anei's answer, muttering (in Timonese) something about needing to find a normal ship crew as she looks back to her console.

As they begin to break away from the Ungstiri freighter, the little Castori takes the yoke in the paw that is his namesake while the other adjusts his output screen. "Is much of the green colors," he remarks of the status indicators. "Are much ready for the doing stuff, da. Let's go."

Ace stiffens a bit at the exchange between Anei and Rya, "We are going to go down to Demaria for reconnaissance," she replies belatedly to the engineer. "And once we are finished here, will drop you off at whatever port it is you wish, Rya." She glances to Raz and nods, "Spaciba...heading into atmosphere..."

"She might fly a little too well." Silvereye comments to Torr with a slight smirk, flipping off his commlink and storing it in his jacket. He watches his console. "I don't think we'll have to move quickly but if we do you don't want every bone in your body broken because you didn't strap in and instead decided to use the interior of a ship as...how do you say it? Trampoline."

>> Outside the Ship: The Faux drifts for awhile, putting some distance between itself and the Athena before her engines flare, her nose angled downward towards the planet. She is in no hurry, it seems, as she breaks into the planet's atmosphere, headed in the general direction of New Alhira.

>> Outside the Ship: Jackal, thankfully, has stablizied enough thanks to the work of Rokke and the Faux engineers, and maintains a steady orbit as its sister vessel breaks away from Athena. The sable of space resembles a backlit screen with tiny holes punched in it -- all in all a peaceful scene as the Demarian privateers begin their descent planetside.

>> Outside the Ship: Braking thrusters activating, the DMS Faux descends through the clouds towards the planet's surface.

Torr lounges back in the chair, taking a drag from the cigarette. Eyes go to the vidmonitors, not really having anything else to do, and not particularly interested in whatever the two timonese speak about. He shoots a smirk toward Silvereye.

Aneirin's eyes focus off into the distance for a moment then the boy shivers as if cold. "I'm getting a distinctly... unfarourable feeling." He pauses. "Just so you all know. We probably won't like what we find." Another pause. "Or something else is going to go wrong."

>> Outside the Ship: At first, there is nothing but the beautiful streaks of red-orange outside the ship as the Faux descends like a righteous fireball down into the planet's atmosphere... and then it parts, revealing a scattering of pinkish clouds over the beautiful indigo skies of Demaria. From this high up, all one can see are the lights of the city of New Alhira, little sprinkles of orange and white over the silhouetted skyline. It's rather like fireflies.

"Just what I wanted to hear," Rya mutters quietly as she watches the displays of her console through the descent.

The spark of uncertainty from the Timonae is not lost on Raz, who looks up from his work to send a frown the teen's way. It hold only for a moment, however, as the ship rumbles its way through re-entry. Holding the throttle firm in one paw, he steadies himself with the other, looking somewhat puzzled at what he deems an abnormality in the situation. "The peoples, they are not telling us where to do the landing," he comments, tapping at his headset and knitting his eyeridge at Ace.

"Of course we're not going to like what we find." Silvereye comments dismissively to Aneirin, monitoring his console during entry into the atmosphere. "My people have turned to Thul." He glances up as the ship breaks through into the clear skies, falling silent and leaning forward against his restraints with paws flat on the console. The look on his features betrays in an instant how much he's missed his home, a mixture of sadness, relief, and awe. Ace nods, "Is quiet, da," Ace says to Raz, glancing over her shoulder, "Any place in particular you wish for us to go Silvereye? Or would you prefer for me to just make a lower pass?"

Torr casts a cold glance over his shoulder at the Timonae male, shaking his head slightly. "Christ," he mutters under his breath. Then eyes are back on the screen.

"Low pass for now." Silvereye responds to Ace after a moment. "If we see something we can land."

>> Outside the Ship: The Faux circles once over the city before her nose pushes downward, a trail of exhaust left in her wake as she swoops in for a closer look.

Aneirin just sits there quietly after giving his negative prediction after a moment he suggests, "I could Try take a look inside some of the buildings."

Aisrya stays quiet for now as she watches the sensors.

As they go in a little closer, Raz hunts around the console for a few seconds for the controls to operate the spotlights. With a little twist of his furry fingers, the cub turns them on, giving those who are watching the viewscreen a clearer look at what lies outside the ship while he sorts through the finer data the sensors provide him.

"Is good idea, Anei, da," Ace nods, "Spaciba...the fewer surprises this trip, the better."

"Yeah." Silvereye comments absently to Ace, bobbing his snout in affirmation of Aneirin's comments. His own large eyes are glued on the viewscreen, searching for anything, really.

>> Outside the Ship: When Raz kicks on the spotlights, it is indeed easier to see, though unfortunately what is illuminated is an unsettlingly grim scene. The city still stands, yes, and there is the occasional body making its way up the streets -- but the signs of the rioting weeks before still remain. Vendors' carts are overturned, cabs are wrecked, storefronts are smashed and the occasional mangled corpse litters the streets. But the city stands. Unfortunately, the only occupants that can be seen at the moment are not Demarians, but the groteqsue Thul.

Torr takes another drag of the cigarette, leaning forward as well. He narrows his eyes a little, focusing on the viewscreen. "Huh, damn. They need the fucking cure more than Mika does."

"Gospadi," Raz murmurs, leaning forward to peer at the grisly scene outside. "Is... is much sickies, da. Much BAD sickies, tall furred kind place."

Aneirin focuses off into the distance again. "The Pillow looks ok... little bit of damage from the riots but it's external. Looks safe inside, though."

"Da," Ace says softly, sounding more saddened than disgusted, "But the cure, it is coming soon. Just have to make certain it is safe for the Athena to land..." Her dark eyes never leave the viewscreen as she searches, not for Thul or for Demarians but for larger movements - groups, ships, vehicles or large weapons.

Silvereye watches the viewscreen for a few silent moments, a look of sadness descending upon him. "Swing by the landing pad, then." He comments to Ace, tone dead. "The bodies may still be there, but we'll have to make sure its safe." He doesn't look at the captain, attention wholly focused on his home and its inhabitants. Finally he does glance at Aneirin, "Can you tell how many are down there? Or where they are?"

Aisrya hesitantly looks over to the viewscreen after Raz turns the lights on, but she returns to looking at the console after just a few moments.

Aneirin shakes his head and looks to Silvereye a moment, "Unfortuneately, no."

>> Outside the Ship: As Faux races over the underclasser city, its spotlights and sensor suite dancing over the area below them, their presence does not go unnoticed by a few of the helpless Thul gathered on the streets. They wave their misshapen arms and cry out for help, but stopping to rescue a handful may mean inciting another riot among those that are not taken. There do not seem to be any hostile elements remaining on this part of the surface.

Torr's eyes search for any hostility, and once he is satisfied there is no sign of it here, he leans back in the chair a bit. He takes a drag, eyes still on the viewscreen as he remains silent.

Ace nods again, "Heading for the landing field," she says as she redirects the Faux, "Everyone stay sharp, keep an eye out..."

Softhearted little Raz actually cringes away from his station once he has been provided with the general lifeform readings, the bloblike forms of the slugs not sitting well with him. "Where... where is all the tall furred kind?" he squeaks, oblivious to Ace's command.

>> Outside the Ship: The Faux banks over the people below, shifting direction towards the landing field to make a low pass over the open plascrete.

"That is them, Raz." Silvereye comments to the Castori sedately, unfailingly watching the viewscreen. "They're the sick ones. A very evil man changed them." As Aneirin and Ace speak he just nods.

>> Outside the Ship: There are more desperate cries from below, coming from those few that were not lost in the madness of the riots, and they inch after the speedy smuggler ship, following in its wake. When Faux reaches the vicinity of the spaceport, however, and the tarmac enters view, there is a sort of eeriness hanging in the air. It is still and quiet. A few more Demarian bodies, their remains picked clean and bleached by the harsh twin suns, lie contorted hither and thither about the pad. Beyond that, it is deserted, and those unlucky ships that remain have seen better days. They remain in their berths, soundless ghosts standing sentinel over the graveyard.

Ace reaches over to put a hand over the cub's paw to give a reassuring squeeze, "We will help to bring them back to themselves, Raz," she says softly.

Torr's eyes remain focused in the viewscreen, a slight smirk spreading over his face. "Shit, no wonder the fucking bounty on Volari is so high. Can't believe you don't want a cut of that, Ace."

Raz Blackpaw absolutely cannot tolerate the sight of the skeletal remains lying about, and gives way to a weak sort of squeaking whimper, curling back against his seat with a horrified countenance and radiating a very clear feeling of distress.

"Shhh...mishka, I know," Ace speaks quietly to the little Castori, "Is okay...everything will be okay." She brings the Faux to hover over the landing field, sparing a glance over at Torr, "The situation, it may have changed, Torr. Will speak of this later. Anyone see anything?"

Silvereye watches the landing pads, giving a disgruntled chuff at Torr's words. "Talk about money later." He advises strongly, tearing his eyes from the ships and the bodies to the hangars. "Looks like the Athena could use the hangars if it has to. Though we can't see the inside." As Ace speaks he shakes his head. "Nothing beyond the obvious."

Aneirin lets his eyes focus off again, "Uh.. just a minute."

Torr leans forward again, trying his best to look into the hangars. "Shit, what'd you say happened to all the militia ships, Silvereye. They fuckin' take off, get outta here."

Aisrya's keeping her eyes on her console's display readouts.

Not entirely placated by Ace's words, Raz takes a cue from Rya, ears flat against his head as he focuses on his work. His eyes noticably go to the blank HUD when the information on the corpses is gathered.

"Looks like there are some empty berths in there." Anei says canting his head to one side. "One or two ships maybe... I can't tell specifics though."

>> Outside the Ship: A couple of stragglers have made their way to the pad, and noting the Demarian registration of the privateer vessel, have renewed their attempts to receive aid. Their voices are muffled hisses, wet-sounding screeches that splatter slime and ichor.

"Do you wish to attempt a landing?" Ace yields to Silvereye's decision, "Or simply continue to fly overhead?"

Silvereye is looking out the viewscreen, noting the people on the landing pad. The former Longclaw looks conflicted as Ace speaks, then finally shakes his head. "If it was just me I'd land, but there's nothing we can do for those people and nothing we can say to them." He turns towards Aneirin, nodding as if he's thinking while talking. "If the berths are open that's all we need for the Athena. Let's..." He pauses, taking a look at the slugs who were his people. "We have to keep going."

>> Outside the Ship: Yelling and screaming in their growling, blubbering voices, the mutated Demarian people throw random objects -- splinters of wood, cans, rocks, whatever they can get their hands on -- at the black starship. Their sticky figures glisten under the spotlights.

"Shits hot huh," Torr muses, looking down on the crowds below. "Think we're better off getting the cure before we do any other shit." The small frown on his face belies his usually cold demeanor.

Aneirin just takes a moment to refocus, closing his eyes and bowing his head slightly. "I did suggest I got an unfavourable feeling." He comments softly.

As something connects with the Faux's hull, Raz gives a little jump. If he was gung-ho at the start, he's now a little frightened of what's going on here on the planet he once adored so very much, and finding it very difficult to keep his attention on his co-pilot duties. "They... they are mad at us, the peoples, I think," he notes.

>> Outside the Ship: A series of colorful exclamations in the Demarian tongue, its felinesque yowling rhythm marred by the sickening hiss of the Thul race, would indicate that those below are finding it harder and harder to contain themselves. Two of the Thul lift up a third, who hollers his angry demands that the privateers and Longclaw help them, save them, do something, anything -- and the cries become angrier and angrier.

"They are frightened, Raz," Ace explains quietly as she pulls up on the yoke, lifting the Faux out of range, "They are scared and have lost hope and wish for the cure we do not yet have. Silvereye?" Ace glances back again, "Do you wish to check anywhere else?"

>> Outside the Ship: The Faux rises up, pulling away from the gathering crowd, not willing to be the cause of another riot.

Silvereye's features remain stone still as the Thul call to the ship, "Do a flyby of the outskirts, if you would. I want to see if there's any indication that they tried to flee the city. Move past the mountains." His tone is dead even. "We have to know if we're treating just New Alhira or other parts of the planet."

Torr glances over his shoulder at the Demarian as Ace questions him, eyes flicking to the viewscreen now and then. He remains silent, the frown on his face still, his cigarette forgotten.

Aneirin just keeps himself focused internally ready to look off into 'unseeable' places shuold he be asked to again, sitting quietly with his eyes closed, he does reach a hand toward Rya thouhg.

Aisrya looks over to Anei as she sees the hand, and then wordlessly takes it in her own before looking back to the console.

"Aneirin, are you okay?" Ace asks as she continues to bring the Faux up higher. "Heading that way...do you wish to check the desert as well?"

>> Outside the Ship: The cries of the small number of victims die away the further Faux pulls skyward, until once again everything is silent and their figures are naught but a handful of specks below them.

"We might as well." Silvereye comments absently to Ace. "We want as big of a picture as we can get, the more we know the easier this'll be." He pauses, "Not that this'll be easy."

>> Outside the Ship: As the Faux rises, the floodlights go out and she turns away from the heart of New Alhira, heading towards the fringes of the city.

Once they are away from that particular mess, Raz sucks in an unsteady breath and readjusts his headset, once again focusing on the controls. He takes the yoke in-paw and taps a few things onto his panel. "Da, we are going," he confirms.

"Christ. They must have a fuckin' plan in place." Then Torr frowns a little darker. "Its fucking Marlan, nevermind. Probably don't have a plan. Nevermind, shit." He shakes his head slightly.

Ace reaches over and shuts off the spotlights, "Best to let them calm down a bit," she explains. "Do not give them something to be riled about." She gives Raz an encouraging smile, "Da, we are," she says gently.

Aneirin nods his head, turning to look to Ace although his eyes remain closed. "Peachy, just trying to stay focused. Things are... out of balance."

"That's an understatement." Silvereye comments to Aneirin, looking out over the dark. "I'm sorry you had to see that, Raz. But it's what really happens. It shouldn't be hidden but you don't have to look."

>> Outside the Ship: From high up, it is easy to pretend that nothing has changed in New Alhira. It is breathtakingly beautiful, sable and rose, pinpricks of colored light and moonkissed sand spread around it like a soft blanket. And it is toward those sands at the very edges of the main settlement that the scouts head, the streetlights below them streaks of soft pale white. Civilization dies away and is left behind, and what opens before them is the glorious night view of the Stubtooth Mountains, their craggy tops capped with fluffy orange-pink clouds. On the fringes of the city, there are signs of some sort of altercation. There's a cluster, a grouping of something that is distinctly not sand.

>> Outside the Ship: Only after the Faux had gotten out of sight of the landing field do the lights come back on, the bright beams stabbing through the darkness and playing across the ground.

>> Outside the Ship: The lights fall onto a number of Demarian corpses on the edges of the desert. A large number. A hundred, easily. What the unforgiving climate has not torn from their bones, the scavenger birds have.

Aisrya pats the back of Anei's hand with her other hand, but keeps her eyes on the readouts.

Torr leans forward again, examining the viewscreen carefully. He notices the darker splotch of the grouping, eyes narrowing a bit. "Whats all that shit? Oh, shit." Torr frowns a little. "Fucked up."

Aneirin opens his eyes after another few moment and looks to the viewscrren now attention has been drawn to it.

This time, Raz's shriek of terror is considerably louder, his mouthpiece giving a thump as his snout bumps against it, and stubby claws dig into the leather armrests of his chair.

Silvereye grits his fangs as he sees the bones on the edge of the desert, leaning forward with wide eyes. "What happened here?" He asks softly, eyes roaming over the skeletons. Another moment of gawking and he recovers his senses a little bit, "No, Ace, I hadn't been monitoring." Shakily he retrieves his commlink and turns it on. That done he focuses on the bones.

Ace looks over at Raz, clearly upset by the the toll this was taking on her son, "Raz...mishka...come here," she says, reaching a hand out to him.

Aisrya hesistantly looks over to the viewscreen at Raz's cry.  she mutters in Timonese as she quickly looks back to her console.

Torr shakes his head slightly. "Bad shit huh." He unstraps himself, then stands. "I'm gonna go take a piss. Try not to miss me, huh?" He begins heading aft.

Aneirin turns to look to Torr at this announcment, "Want a hand?"

But Raz does not comply with Ace's wishes. He is frozen in place, trembling at the sight, his little ears and whiskers absolutely smashed against his head. "They are dead," he whimpers, completely appalled. "Are... are much dead and... and is... is skeletons."

Ace kills the lights again, this time her voice a bit sterner, though by no means angry or hurtful. "Raz, come here."

"Ace," Silvereye calls back, tone forceful, life pumped back into it. "There's nothing we can do for them. Proceed to the deeper desert then take us back into orbit." He glances at Raz then back to the viewscreen. "We've seen enough." Then he pauses, "Wait, one last thing."

Torr narrows eyes, shaking his head slightly. "I have two thanks. Fuck off. Christ." Then hes moving off the bridge.

Aisrya looks to Anei with an arched eyebrow at his question before looking back to the console.

Aneirin grins at Rya, "He's good for a rise."

Wide black eyes almost the size of the ship itself turn to Ace, and very slowly does the Castori comply, removing his headgear and releasing his harness before toddling on shaky footpaws toward his kapitan.

Ace sets the Faux on hover for a moment, reaching over to gather the little cub in her lap. "Am thinking maybe you do not need to sit at co-pilot, da?" she says gently as she hugs him close. "Maybe you should stay with me for a bit." She looks over at Silvereye, "Anything?"

"Nothing commswise." Silvereye comments, turning back to Ace. "Are you up for running through the city again, along Brightstar and Sanctuary Avenue?" He pauses, glancing at Raz. "I want to get a look at the Imperator's corpse, if we can."

Aisrya rolls her eyes a little at the other Timonae.

Though he does send a reluctant look back at his station, Raz does as he's told, and allows Ace to collect him into her lap. He settles there, gloved paws folded in his lap, staring at his big footpaws. The viewscreen hasn't been very kind to him today.

Ace holds Raz and tries to send him strong feelings of reassurance and comfort, "Everything will be alright," she tells him softly, settling him against her so she could handle the yoke one handed for the moment. "Da, will take a look down that way. Can one of you handle the lights and the screens? Think for now I will keep the ones here dark."

>> Outside the Ship: With a soft whoosh of her engines, the Faux turns on a dime, heading towards the boulevard in search of the missing Imperator.

Aneirin shrugs a little at Rya  He then looks to Ace. "I can."

"Thank you." Silvereye replies to Ace, watching the viewscreen as the ship moves. "I'm sorry he had to see this. I didn't expect a grave like that." He says, tone hard but slightly apologetic. There's some energy that has taken over his form, from his tone to the alert stare of his eyes. "I doubt we'll get much but I need to look."

>> Outside the Ship: The desert sands, a pearly violet under the pale light of the moons, scream beneath the freighter as it makes its way back across the wasteland and toward the city proper once again. The searchbeam travels along cobblestone paths and up the long, narrow streets of New Alhira, gliding over the buildings and wreckage, scouring the area. There's much to be seen in the heart of the infected world, but the one the that remains elusive is the body of Imperator Sharpeye Skygazer. It is nowhere to be found.

Ace hums softly to Raz as they fly along, rocking him gently as she slowly guides the Faux down the road, "Is there anywhere else you would wish to look?"

Every now and again Raz's curiosity gets the best of him, and he glances up at what lies outside. And every now and again he drops his gaze back to his feet, or takes stock of the faces around him, or fidgets idly with the buttons of his longcoat.

Aisrya keeps watching her console.

"They must've taken him down." Silvereye comments with a quick shake of his head. "No, I think we've seen enough." Then he stops, tailtip twitching as if he's thinking of something. A moment of silence passes then he shakes his head. "No, I won't go to the surface yet. Take us back to the Athena."

Aneirin turns his attention to the consoles as well, not that there's much for him to look at there.

"Any chance there might be people who are not infected hiding somewhere?" Ace asks as she points the Faux skyward, murmuring softly to Raz, "You did very good job, mishka. Were very brave..."

"Are going to help them, da?" Raz asks, tipping his head back to regard Ace. Don't disappoint the bear, Ace.

"Da, we are," Ace nods, showing no sign of hesitation, "The Athena, it is in the final stages of testing the cure, and we will watch over them while they make sure people get it. Will do whatever we can to help."

-

On the Athena...

Wardroom  - GMF Athena - ........................................................................... '''Tucked beneath and around the ship's spinal corridor, the wardroom serves both as workroom and general quarters for the ship's crew. Port and starboard rise the sleeping facilities, a set of double bunks running the length of the space. Each bunk has a set of built in cabinets and lockers for storing personal effects. The middle of the room is ample, sized to fit and brief the entire crew if necesssary. A central conference table dominates the space, its long dimension running from fore to aft. Spartan steel chairs ring the table, designed for utility instead of comfort. The forward wall has a large display screen, above which are ranked a battery of supplementary monitors. Aft is a compact galley, along with a cluster of smaller tables for eating and general conversation.''' '''A series of shielded sconces provide flexible lighting, allowing sections of the room to be darkened, letting some crew sleep while others continue their work. A gangway leads up to the ship's main corridor, while forward a paneled door leads to the Captain's private stateroom.''' '''Next to the stateroom entrance there is a slightly off color piece of metal bulkhead which appears to have been riveted onto the existing ship's bulkhead. It is inscribed with the names "Bernard Hitchcock" "Colin Marshall" and "David Ransom Porter". Porter's name appears twice, the first occurance appears second on the list and appears to have been etched out before being re-inscribed as the fourth item of the list. Following that appear the names "Brian Peterson", "Stinkpelt Fastdraw" and "Wyan Rikariv", each on their own line.''' ...........................................................................

When the hatchway opens, a few seconds pass before Mika appears in the frame, looking for all intents and purposes like a human. She is clad in Boomer's interpretation of how the Athena uniform should be worn by women -- pants cut so short they leave little to the imagination, and an equally skimpy doctoring of the purple top -- and is hobbling around on crutches, but she looks for all the world like a kid on Christmas morning. She is positively glowing.


 * Mika
 * Voluptuous, curvaceous, well-endowed: these are all words that are completely inappropriate for this humanoid female. Capping off at five and a half feet in height, she's a rangy little alley cat with a decidedly cocky air about her. While her skin is sickly pale, it shows the signs of soneone who at some point spent a great deal of time in the sun, scattered with freckles the same color as the short growth of peachfuzz atop her head. Standing astride a small, beak-like nose are a pair of large, vibrant eyes, their sea green irises every bit as expressive as her thin lips and generous mouth.


 * She looks like she should be on a street corner somewhere hawking very specific favors for a handful of credits. A sleeveless purple shirt, slashed inexpertly to provide an ample view of her less-than-ample cleavage and bare her midriff, compliments a set of matching shorts which have likewise been carelessly tailored to ride achingly high upon birdlike legs.  A modest sapphire and diamond ring glitters on her left hand, where a tattooed design similar to the one on her lower abdomen might be spotted.

Kastaprulyi slips away from the table and over to the end of the gangway, offering Mika an inquisitive feeling of greeting. "Hello," Kas says aloud. "Are you thinking about the cure?"


 * Kastaprulyi
 * The young Centauran's bell is a pale translucent blue with splotches of lavender around the crest, perhaps half the size of an adult's. It is painted here and there with faintly luminescent frost-like patterns and covered entirely by a protective layer of transparent gel. The gel seems not to have prevented a now mostly healed stress fracture. A few smoky wisps of condensation drift down from the breather gear wrapped around the trunk; a vocalizer and a somewhat bulky storage pack are also tucked inside the bell. (The usual voice synthesized in speaking Terran Standard is that of a human girl.) Drifting under the ring of glittering eyes are eight crystalline tentacles.


 * The bell is further covered by a hard plastic helmet and the tentacles and body by the tough fabric of Sivadian Public Health Service biohazard suit. The suit, whose warning-orange color contrasts with the blue crystal, seems to have been designed for a somewhat larger Centauran and is therefore cinched at the top of each sleeve.

"I'm uh, I'm thinkin' 'bout them s-s-stairs-s-s," Mika replies with false trepidation and good humor, gesturing with a crutch at the steps down into the wardroom proper. The final legs of ATRV have yet to be broken, as evidenced by the light coating of sticky goo on the grips of her support and the mild hiss in her speech, but she pays them no mind. "I got bored'n there. S'okay fer me t'come out 'ere?"

Pavlo stays over at the table where he's been sitting the whole time and just looks towards Mika, now standing at the top of the stairs.


 * Pavlo
 * Given only a casual glance this boy looks no older than about five but could be as old as seven, though he is a small seven year old if he is, even for an Ungstiri.


 * On closer inspection the boy has the typical Ungstiri pale complexion and contrasting raven black hair which has been allowed to go a little bit wild and shaggy. His young face bears a look that takes some time to get a full picture of, as it seems to vary constantly. Expectant one moment then lost and alone another and those are only a small selection of the flux of emotions his face displays. The boy is currently dressed in a ships crew uniform which is worn proudly most likely so the boy stands out from others his age. The uniform consists of dark purple pants, a blue grey shirt under a purple jacket and black boots. The jacket has the ships name, UKT Athena stiched into one breast just above the pocket and oposite this is a badge with the name Ranix in neat block capitals.

Kastaprulyi wanders up the gangway to float beside Mika, though its position seems to indicate it wasn't intending to break any fall she might have. "You coming here seems okay to me," Kas answers agreeably. "I'm glad you're looking for interesting stuff to do now."

Silvereye steps into the ward room from the main corridor, looking fairly lost in his own thoughts, only taking a cursory glance around the room. His gaze sweeps over Mika once then has to stop and return, large eyes blinking. "Brakir Mercy." He says, staring at the desluggified human.

Atrophied muscles suck. They suck even more when there's stairs to consider. "This ship," Mika declares with a pensive sweep of the interior, "s'not 'andicap friendly, bollocks." She stabs in Kas's direction with the knob of her left crutch. "Can't y'do that telekinetic hoo-ha? Be my antigrav platform. It'll be like a game, wot?" The rogue is so busy running her mouth that she unfortunately misses the event she's been waiting her entire life for: Silvereye checking her out.

"Are blocking hatch." Pav points out with a grin.

Kastaprulyi sends a feeling of greeting to Silverye, and 'listens' curiously to his reaction. "Most people aren't strong enough for lifting other people, I can't lift any other stuff," Kas explains helpfully, shifting off to float beside the gangway. "Maybe you could go down easier with your arms, legs both."

It turns out that Mika is in the Demarian's way of entering the wardroom, but it doesn't matter. At her request for the Centauran to carry her down the stairs Silvereye steps forward an actual smile building on his features. He comes up behind the human and with one simple motion sweeps the smaller human up into his big arms. "It worked, you're better?" He asks no matter her reaction, still smiling.

Pavlo grins as Silvereye moves to pick Mika up, "Woult help, but Silfereye he is much stronger." And so the boy stays seated at the table in the galley area, a wooden flute in front of him.

*Urk* is the sound that escapes Mika's lips as she's unexpectedly swept up by the Demarian she didn't even know what present in the room. She locks wide grren eyes onto silver ones as she's carried down the stairs. "Why in Christ's name weren't y'doin' this sort'a thing when I was a single woman," she practically whimpers, breaking into something of a chuckle as she reaches to give his ear a tug. "Furry ol' rogue, bollocks, I'ma be fine. Doctor Lind bloody did't, I'd wager."

Kastaprulyi drops down to float a few feet above the deck, drifting out ahead of the gangway. The little Centauran seems to simply look on intently for the moment. Ace steps in from the corridor, nodding to Pavlo and Kas before pausing for a moment in confusion. Dark eyes blink and then a smile spreads broadly across her face, "Da! Put her down immediately!" Ace laughs, "Is my turn!"

"Humans still aren't my type." Silvereye replies warmly, head tilting to one side as Mika tugs on his ear. He stalks down the gangway into the wardroom proper, grinning broadly. "Altheor's Teeth seeing you like this makes me happy. I was kinda forgettin' what that felt like." As Ace speaks he turns, ears pricking upwards and smile dimming then broadening. His tail sweeps from side to side and he laughs, "Ace, you want to carry her?" He asks, still looking pleased but a little puzzled and a little misunderstanding.

Pavlo waves to Ace, "Privet Ace."

Kastaprulyi returns a silent greeting to Anastasia, wandering out towards Pavlo. "I'm glad everybody's feeling better," Kas mentions enthusiastically. "Is now still time for relaxing?"

"I dunno, I might too 'xcited in Ace's bloody arms," Mika hoots, her arm hooked around the former Longclaw's neck at this point. Damned if she isn't milking this moment for all it's freaking worth. Her head tips back, neck craning so she may observe the little Centauran upside down. "Well I ain't yer cap'n, kiddo, but I'd blinkin' reckon s-s-s-so, bollocks. Shoul' crack open a six pack'n play some blinkin' cards."

"Wish to hug my tovarisch without getting my coat all slimy," Ace replies with a broad grin, "And da, as Mika says, is time to take a breather, I think."

Silvereye nods to Ace, holding onto to Mika a little while longer. "Yeah. This was a good end to the evening." He remarks, still grinning but not quite so broadly. "Gives me a lot of hope, and a lot of relief to see that you're better." He looks back to Mika, finally bending over to let her take her feet in her own good time. "It's time to relax a little bit, yes."