Smear Campaign

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.

- The interior lighting slowly dims for the evening, suggesting sunset.

Again, as usual, Vadim planted in the command chair. That found PDA he stumbled across earlier is situated on the console that he's reading from. As it stands right now, he's currently looking over recent data on Odari.

Izaeza is snoozing at the engineering console.

As for Mika, she's slung across the swivel-chair at the comm station, her feet crossed carelessly atop the terminal. Music from her portable player is cranked up so high that the sound of it is audible to those around her, even despite the bugs plugged into her ears. She seems utterly unconcerned with the compact datapad resting on the unit before her -- the one with the ominous message and unmistakable "C" -- and prefers to fiddle with her own, picking at its three-dimensional display idly with her stylus.

Colored light washes over her freckled face as her screen suddenly changes. Expression thoughtful, the rogue's eyes skim its contents, brows gradually lifting with marked interest until she finally announces, "/'ey, Toasty,/" at an unnecessarily high volume. "/Longtooth wantsa see me."

Izaeza blinks as she starts to stir. The Timonae shifts a little then glances over at the Mika. "She always so loud?" She murmurs as she rubs sleep from her eyes.

"Should hear her when she's drunk." Vadim notes, flicking through screens taken from the cameras at jump points surrounding Odari, scanning them slowly. A fingerless glove reaches over to the nearby ashtray on top of the console and the half burnt cigarette sitting in the notch to be picked up by two fingers, only to be set between the man's lips in a slow pensive drag. "Thats nice." the man grunts in Mika's direction, though loud enough for the woman to hear. "Would be utterly fantastic if I knew who that was. What does he want?"

The door whispers open and the newest arrival takes a single step across the threshold before stopping; just far enough to allow the hatch to close once more behind her. Hands shoved into her jeans pockets, Kit absently shrugs the strap of an electronics satchel more comfortably over a shoulder as she takes in the bridge's layout before wrinkling her nose at the acrid taint of the cigarettes. "Ariel, increase air circulation through the bridge by thirty percent," she peremptorily orders.

"/Wot?/" Mika shouts back, squinting Vadim's way. "/I can't 'ear ye!/" As if that weren't readily apparent. She swings her feet onto the floor and hunches over, plucking a bud from one ear and frowning at it. "Wot'd ye say?" she asks him, much more moderately.

"Okay.." Izzy rubs her face and stands. The tall Timonae stretches out and lets out a loud yawn.

"Nyet? Really?" Vadim quips dryly, angling his gaze from the screen he's been pouring over to lean back in his chair and over to Mika. "Who's Longtooth and what does he want? Wait...Longtooth, Longtooth. Hoop, that Stars? Think I remember the Razorback saying that name referring to the hoopla between them and Swifty." Hearing someone command Ariel on the ship thats not himself Mika does make him turn about in his chair and rise up to his feet to face Kit, brow quirking. "Mika...please explain to me who this is and why they're on the ship without my knowledge."

And as the normally whisper-soft brush of air obediently increases to a light breeze, Kit takes a few more steps to place herself directly behind Mika, pitching her voice over the music as she declares, "Bang!" A half-curious look toward Vadim at his inquiry, and after a moment's closer inspection of the man, she informs blandly, "I am the permanent security hole in all Ariel systems."

If Mika was about to answer Vadim in something other than a started bark, the world may never know.

Her knee slams into the underside of the console when she jumps, eliciting a /second/ cry of pain and a litany of muttered oaths which only grow more and more colorful upon recognizing the cyberwitch.

Its undecided whether or not Vadim actually believes the response he gets, Mika comical reaction notwithstanding, the usually keeping his thoughts to himself and is usually never in a mood to share them. He visually sizes up, until he just decides to shrug. "Figure I would've known if it had been anything else. What the auspicious timing." the grizzled merc comments, re-taking his seat, gazing back again swearing woman. "Y'alright? Want me to get Maddie to kiss and make it better?" he adds, tapping the accumulating ash from his smoke into the tray.

Kit inclines her head in noncommittal acknowledgment of Vadim's remarks, but her attention is already swinging back to Mika at the woman's heart-felt and vociferous greeting; her own mouth stretching in flat, pleased grin before she helps herself to a seat at the nearest console. "You have better taste than I thought," she opines in back-handed compliment as she takes another good look around.

Nothing if not over-the-top dramatic in all things, Mika squeezes her knee to her chest, sucking in air through clenched teeth and glaring daggers Kit's way. "I see ye 'aven't been fum'gatin', Toasty," she grates. "/Pests/ gettin' in."

Always the torn one, Vadim shoots glances between the two. "Normally I'd think the same, you'll excuse if I thought you two were on friendly terms. I'm getting mixed signals here." he grunts. "Though I'll keep out of this, unless you two can't play nice an all."

Vadim's response garners a vaguely amused look from Kit. "I may have underestimated how much age may have affected you, Mika," she muses. "While I would hesitate to use the word 'maturity' in any sentence that may involve you, it seems you at least have learned to pick up more intelligent crewmembers by now. Well...at least, you are getting better at that, while your insults have not improved by a whit."

"Wot d'ye /want,/ Kittianna?" Mika's words are an irritable growl faintly laced with traces of resignation. She makes no effort to remove the Sivadian, nor does she offer any kind of protest at the unannounced dropping-in; plainly, this situation is one that the rogue is entirely used to. "We're on very important bus'ness, alright? Someone 'as a deal fer us on Quaquan." At that, she glances toward the Ungstiri. "Longtooth. Longtail? Longteeth." A heartbeat skips by while she puzzles. "Swifty's bloke."

Oh yeah, this broad just screams Sivadian. That much hasn't eluded the Ungstiri a bit. Vadim, at first doesn't bother speaking, the one entering waters of time long before he entered the picture, he really doesn't have much a right to. Deciding to play Switzerland in that respect, he folds his arm across his chest with enough leeway to be able to smoke without difficulty.

Hearing of their destination however, does give him something to occupy his time with. "Da, I'll get us moving then. You two can....'catch up' as it were." Staying out of this one? Pretty much, unless of course someone does something stupid, which on this ship, doesn't ever leave his mind entirely.

"To make your life miserable, and to ensure that you do not accidentally make the universe implode on itself somehow," Kit calmly relates. "Otherwise, I have been easy to please. What is the deal?" she asks as she unloads a data tablet from her satchel, quite indifferent to any thoughts that she might be prying into private matters.

Mika grunts an intelligent and thoroughly unconcerned "Iunno" and shrugs her skinny shoulders, attention largely on an uncooperative acceleration harness which simply refuses to buckle. "'ow's she been flyin', Toasty?"

"Just fine. Kravos has done a fine job of tightening the gyros." Vadim replies, who's currently moved over to pilot's seat to get behind the ship's stick and have since moved them out of the system and into jumpspace. "Personally, I wouldn't mind seeing the universe implode. At least it'd be something new. Things have been far too dull for my tastes. Haven't seen a good explosion in ages. You could bleach bones with amount of dryness that statements used with.

Seemingly wholly focused upon the task of retrieving and familiarizing herself with what crew Mika has listed for the ship, Kit pauses toward the end of Vadim's exposition to cast him a curious look, and then turns a similar one toward the captain. "I think I am beginning to detect a pattern to the types of men you tend to surround yourself with," she drawls, no less drolly.

"Shut up," Mika requests politely, settling in for the brief jump. She herself, while positioned at the comms, has queued up the engineer's readouts and pours over them, eyes narrowing as they cruise the data. "Bollocks. I coul' do a better job than /this./"

"Except then you wouldn't need a crew or ship comp," Kit responds idly, regardless of whether one was looked for or not. "What is happening with Mr. Stars Longtooth?" she pursues.

"Or /you,/" Mika appends absently, and for some length of time, nothing else is said. Indeed, the trio on the bridge is so quiet that only the music from the neglected player, the low whirr of the engines, and the clacking of fingers on keys are all that is audible... and it comes as quite as shock to the onetime captain when the freighter suddenly lurches back into normalspace. Mika lurches forward, restrained only by her harness.

She mutters an off-color comment to herself under her breath, manning the comms for their intended purpose as Vadim swings the ship into the inbound lanes and Quaquani merchant traffic, their teamwork ultimately guiding them to a safe berth where they may taxi in and power down.

As the Ungstiri busies himself securing the vessel and issuing orders to his crew, Mika releases the strappy fastenings and clambers to her feet, tugging at the collar of her jacket. "Longtooth said 'e wanted ta meet me at th' 'otel. Four Corners," she supplies for Kit's benefit. "Ye know where that is? I uh, I don't know much 'bout this place."

This time, Kit is willing to let both retort and lack of answer slide by, bored by the lack of challenge and patient enough for the time being to simply wait and find things out for herself once they reach their destination. Her patience is all the more justified when Mika opens her mouth again, to which Kit responds with an utter lack of surprise, "Let's go, then." Tucking her tablet away, she immediately begins leading the way out.

Coyote Cafe  -
 * The yellow smooth adobe walls of this cafe are simple and plainly textured with hand painted tiles bordering the top and bottom of each wall. Large windows run across the front of the cafe, one on each side of the double doors leading out onto New Chapin Road North. Solid wood tables and chairs circle around the room. The kitchen is in the back through a wooden door that remains open at most times, filling the cafe with the smells of roasting and cooking.

- The setting sun shines in twilight shadows through cafe windows and falls across the floor tiles.

There's a Demarian in the room. It's about as subtle as a Zangali wedding, what with all the Qua around these parts.. and being the only nonhuman around the place, well. The big cat stands out. There's a steak on the table in front of him, an electronic 'book' propped up on the saltshaker, the male alternating bites of steak with another paragraph or two.

The few other patrons there seem to be used to his presence - there's no staring or the like; conversation goes on, as it does on Quaquan.

From outside, there is noise. Noise, noise, noise, and it's steadily getting louder. It's like the buzzing of a pesky mosquito that keeps darting about one's head -- you can cover your ears, but the only way to put an end to it is to swat it.

Luckily, the door takes care of that problem for any patrons bothered by the racket of a young Martian woman with, strangely, a thick West Enajian accent. Mika Tachyon is so wrapped up in animated and entirely one-sided conversation with an unseen companion that she fails to notice the cafe's door is not automatic.

SLAM.

Kit barely blinks at her companion's faux pas, perhaps having been barely aware of even the natter in the first place, being quite adept at tuning it out by now. Calmly side-stepping Mika's abrupt loss in velocity, she pushes her way through the door without either glance or concern for the other woman.

An ear, apparently, has been tracking that voice at the door, and the slamming into it. Stars? The big Demarian just calmly cuts another bite of steak, tail flicking. The giveaway is that tail, though - the sheer level of amusement in its motion, in the set of his head, the faint flash of teeth? It speaks /volumes/ for someone really trying awfully hard not to laugh, or at least make snide commentary.

Mmm. Steak. Good stuff, Steak.

"Thirty-first century, Quaquan!" the Dead Hand reminds, tactlessly pitching her voice to carry over the restaurant's interior. She flexes the fingers of her gloved namesake before rubbing at a rapidly-purpling red mark on her freckled face and stalking grumpily after the cyberwitch.

"Congratulations, you finally have your current coordinates correct," Kit returns mildly, raking a single glance over the cafe's interior before heading straight for the Demarian - a quick and easy target in the evening's mostly homogeneous clientèle.

Longtooth rumbles out, amused, "The entirre point of visiting this rrock, serriously, is that you get a few days away frrom having everrything done forr you. Like doorr opening. It has a certain charrm." He raises a - to him dainty - fork, with its bit of meat. "And the venison? That makes up forr anything." It carries, an easy bass that comes with golden-yellow eyes finally looking up to track the pair.

"If it had a decent beach, I'd retirrre herre. Instead, we'll just bring the kits to visit. Swiftfoot sends herr best."

Mika grumbles out an all-too-predictable "shut up" for Kit as she comes up alongside the woman, stopping a couple of paces from Stars's table. "I only eat animals wot're /cute,/" she informs the big felinoid sourly. "Deer're ugly. Like 'orses. 'orses are ugly too, but they don't 'ave all that bloody pointy shit wot's stickin' outta their blinkin' 'eads all willy-nilly." Wiggling her fingers, she imitates antlers, tacking on a final, "I want nachos," before yanking out a chair by its crown and plunking her skinny butt into it.

Kit duly casts her eyes toward the ceiling for her companion's chatter, but even that gesture seems lackadaisical; worn out from repetition. To Stars, she gives a somewhat more focused nod of greeting as she pulls out a seat for herself.

The Demarian snorts, softly - amused indeed. "my trreat. If they have them. I neverr thought about deciding to choose animals based on /cuteness/. Flavorr with a decent sauce? Yes. Cuteness, not so much." Kat gets a curious look - a nod of greeting. "It's been a while. Feeling betterr?"

Mika wrinkles her nose at a pitcher of lemon water, then at the waitress who comes around to distribute menus to the new arrivals. "I want nachos," she declares again, this time for the actual server. "I don't need a bloody menu." Of course, when it's taken from her, she has a million questions about the nature of the evening's offerings. "Wot's on tap? Are there any drink specials? Aw, Christ, ye guys 'ave those /'ome-brews/ 'ere, don'tcha? Jeezus. I'ma stick with /water./"

Unable to get a word in edgewise, the little waitress just gapes dumbly at the rogue, before shrugging one shoulder and glancing inquisitively at Kit.

"As well as I will ever be," Kit brushes the matter aside with a shrug and a short gesture of a hand, sinking down into a habitual slouch in her seat. "Likewise, it is good to see you have not been scattered into your component elements in some planet's orbit." A glance aside, and she sighs, taking pity on the poor server and simply shaking her head to indicate she has no needs to be met.

"Mika.." Patient, still amused, the Demarian points out, "Quaquan is a drry planet. Try the rroot beerr. You'll like it. It's made frresh." He shifts to get more comfortable in that chair. "As forr that.. not forr lack of trrying. We got lucky." More seriously, those golden eyes turn on Mika - "Thank you forr coming."

Sampling the water proves to be a bad idea for Mika, who puckers her lips and recoils, fish-faced. "Guh," she chokes out, tongue lolling exaggeratedly from her mouth to drive her point home. She wipes at her mouth with the back of her good hand, turning her gaze upon Stars. "Yeah, well, wotever. Swifty's one o' mine, y'know? So yer like fam'ly."

"You should hearr herr talk about you. Let herr get starrted and she won't stop for hourrs." Stars stabs that fork into his steak. "You'll have to come see the kits. Give us both a chance to show off and burry you in family, rright?" He flashes teeth - a sort of a smile. "Swiftfoot would prrobably apprreciate the company, if you'rre out on Demarria at some point."

And. he dives right in, apparently. "I need yourr help. Paid. Quietly. This isn't a favorr.. I alrready owe you a couple of those. Six thousand."

Mika nods along with Stars, in idle acknowledgment at first -- but by the end, when he's cutting to the chase, the north-south is far more urgent. Her brow furrows, considering him intently.

Longtooth reaches up, removing those glasses delicately with a heavy paw. "I need earrs. And eyes. Offworld - see, I'm going to do something stupid, and if therre's one thing I've learrned about doing something stupid, it's make surre yourr back is coverred. And I'm about to be rright in frront of the spotlight - hell of a thing when you need to get something /done/. So I want you to be therre to act once he light comes on and .. well. I can't poke at things myself anymorre."

"Ye want me ta take th' rap," Mika translates with a lopsided grin. "Ye need a patsy."

"No. I need someone who can help me kick sand in a Sandwalker's teeth." The aging merc flashes teeth - and that's /not/ a smile. "He's going afterr Silverreye's job, and making a bid forr the Prresidency. And I'm going to take his Senate seat.. orr at least be enough of a distrraction that he can't pull it off. I need someone willing to put an earr to the grround. To make surre that drribgib-spawn's mistakes show up - and once I tell the prress, I'm stuck. I can't go and ask the questions wherre they need to be asked."

When Mika smiles, she has this way of taking on a Puckish, shit-eating air that's equal parts cocky, irreverent, and mischievous, and altogether reduces her to the one person in the known galaxy who could put a Cheshire Cat off ease. "Lucky fer you, I know jus' who ta talk ta," she assures him, before rising. "Let's talk, then. In a tic.  I gotta go 'it th' bloody pisser."