Run With The Jackals

Bridge 

The hatchway opens up to a small metal platform, which overlooks a compact command center. Light filters out from hidden coves, providing an even illumination across the bridge consoles. A rainbow of telltales and monitors add a touch of color, breathing life into the functional and utilitarian space. A few steps down, the bridge workstations are arranged in a rough semicircle, following the shark nosed form of the ship's bow. Two stations face forward and are centered beneath the main canopy. The other two workstations face the port and starboard, one on each side of the bridge. The space is tight, with arely enough room to move when all the stations are occupied.

Thu Mar 24 06:34:43 3005

The lights are set at their brightest level as the mainday watch begins.

Contents: Doctor Mara  AI Programmer Syvanix  Bumbling Captain Mika 

Ren Arnassis enters the bridge just in time to hear "buckle the fuck up" and looks for a seat. "We gon' make it?" He asks, bending his knees in anticipation of an impact.

Syvanix sits back in his place, the programmer lacking much to do other than hanging back as the Jackal works to set up the defenses. "Shit." he grumbles. Jason Reilly nods and takes a seat beside Mika heavily, pulling up the targeting system and balking at it's report. "The best we could do with these things is blow our brains out." he mutters, but begins powering them up anyway.

>> Outside the Ship: Bobbing and weaving like a big metal boxer in zero-G, the Jackal dashes through any and every opening she can, threading her way outbound.

>> Outside the Ship: The lead suicide destroyer bears the brunt of the carrier's fire, its armor failing it as the mass driver shell pierces it but fails to emerge again. The second detonates itself too soon, splashing damage against the shields of the nearby cruisers. The last two, however, make it, exploding with a brilliance far greater than that of the incoming plasma fire within a few hundred meters of the carrier.

Mika nods to Mara and Arnassis, though her eyes remain resolutely locked on the viewscreen, her body jerking this way and that is if willing the ship to squeeze through like butter. "Good, thank ya Ms. Mara. An' we'll be fine." Too distracted to ask why the hell Arnassis is on the bridge. Eyes widen as she quickly, briefly, urgently looks to Reilly. "I said leave 'em offline!"

Mara crosses herself as she braces against a wall "Well I've had a good go of it" she says but nontheless grits her teeth as the jackal readies her defense "Damn, you mean man in the box in still doin' okay?" Alex asks Mara real quick as Mika dodges through the various obsticles.

Ren Arnassis glances at Mara with a raised eyebrow. "Man in the box?"

>> Outside the Ship: The Carrier, at the last moment, diverts all of it's power to it's front shields, seeming to slow in space to absorb the impact of the large, water-filled destroyers. As the pair of brilliant explosions engulf it, there isn't an inch of the massive crescent-shaped vessel that isn't engulfed in brilliant energy. The blast only lasts a moment, before the glow fades to reveal a scarred and battered Carrier, adrift in space but still containing lifesigns. From it's bridge comes a second message, "You have sssssshown yourssssselvesssss to fight with honor and courage thissssss day. We will allow your remaining forssssessss to retreat unharmed, but thissssss planet isssss now property of the Parallax Empire." says the commander, as the swift Nall fighters move alongside the Jackal and the Faux, giving them safe escort to the edge of G'ahnlo space.

>> Outside the Ship: It's either dumb luck or amazing skill, but the IND Jackal dodges the oncoming fire, only the occasional shot skittering harmlessly against its shields. She breaks through the chaos with apparent ease and slices her way out like a hot knife.

Jason Reilly nods and takes the weapons offline, leaning back and allowing Mika to pilot the ship. "I suppose they'd make things more difficult than they need to be, at the current moment." he says as he watches the Nall fighters take up an escort position alongside the cargo ship.

>> Outside the Ship: Luck seems to be with the Faux as well, the shields catching the brunt of a chunk of debris that rebounds off into space. "Jackal, are you still Demaria bound?"

>> Outside the Ship: Along with its fellow GMF survivors, the Acquisition moves outsystem.

>> Outside the Ship: GMF Acquisition changes vectors, breaking from orbit and accelerating outbound.

>> Outside the Ship: Fishbreath has left. "Goddamned Nall," growls the captain, eyes hardening as she watches the forces of G'ahnlo retreat. "Now 'ow th' fuck'm I s'posed t'pay off m'debts?"

>> Outside the Ship: Changing vectors, the IND Jackal breaks orbit and accelerates outbound.

>> Outside the Ship: Local Space 

"I guess you don't." Syvanix comments, "Or, I mean, what debt?" he says from the somewhat existant comfort of his seat and not being killed today.

The forward view becomes a wash of shimmering cobalt planes unfolding as the ship slices through the fabric of normal space to skip between the stars ...

>> Outside the Ship: Its array of jump crystals shimmering a bloody crimson, the IND Jackal slices through the fabric of normal space in a blaze of shimmering cobalt planes, to skip between the stars ...

>> Outside the Ship: Transition Space 

"Person who you owe's prolly on this ship righ' now," Ren grunts. "I'd sugges' givin' him a receipt for not gettin' thrown out an airlock an' callin' it even. You headed anywhere near Triple-Niner anytime soon?" He asks the Jackal's captain, taking the moment to look around the ship's bridge. Mara breaths a sigh of relief as Jackal glides through space "I should check on Tully again

Mika snorts back a mirthless laugh at Alex. "Good point," she allows. Ren's comment, however, draws an actualy bark of laughter. "Even better point." As they enter FTL, she finally relaxes, sitting back in her seat and tiredly clicking off various switches. "Thank ya, Ms. Mara. All yer 'ssistance's very much 'ppreciated. Y'oller if'n y'need somethin'."

Mika disengages the ship's electronic countermeasures.

>> Outside the Ship: With a sudden shimmering, the IND Jackal lowers its shields.

Jason Reilly has disconnected. Mara punches in a keypad code and enters the ship's airlock. Mara has left.

"Yeah, so anyway Mika, what the Hell are we doing once we drop the cargo off?" Alex asks. He becomes a bit more relaxed as the ship jumps. "Goddamn Nall." he mumbles as an epithet.

Ren Arnassis gives Mika a cool sidelong look, icy eyes regarding hers shadowed under bushy eyebrows and revealing him as somewhere between the end of a jaded youth and the beginning of a long and curmudgeonly career as a hard-assed old coot. "I wasn' kiddin'," he says, then turns slightly to watch Mara leave. His gaze returns to Mika. "Who's 'Tully?'"

With a loud yawn, Mika kicks her feet up onto the console. "What a couple'a days this's been," she muses to herself before glancing over at Alex. "In talks with th' D'marian government, got some bus'ness underway. La Terre after that," she tells him. Tipping her head back at Arnassis, she just grins crookedly. "I wasn't jokin' either, bollocks. If'n y'wanna go meet Tully, by all means -- 'e's some bloke th' Nall stuck a bounty on."

Ren Arnassis chuckles. "You intend on collectin?" He asks, unstrapping his crash netting and moving to rise. "Hell, speakin' of bounties. That reminds me of a bit of a fuck-up I'm in I wan' speak to you about in private what concerns you."

"Can talk 'bout all'a that after I blinkin' get out th' shower," Mika decides, turning in her chair and rising to pad out of the cramped cockpit. "Make y'self't 'ome, Arnassis. Beer'n th' fridge, 'ard liquor'n th' topmost cab'net. We don't do 'ome cooked 'roun' 'ere, but there's lots'a frozen stuff."

SOME TIME LATER ...

Crew Quarters 

The narrow passage opens up into a small wardroom. The space is ingeniously outfitted, the furniture and surfaces configured to serve either under nominal local gravity conditions, or that provided by the freighter's own acceleration. Flanking the wardroom are a set of personal sleeping niches, with each empty bunk module containing a bed with built in cabinetry and storage lockers. Forward, a fresher unit is located portside, while to the starboard is a simple kitchenette. The room is softly illuminated, gentle light flowating down from coves recessed into the dorsal and side wall framing. The deckplates are sturdy and and diamond gridded, providing a sturdy utilitarian finish to the space.

Thu Mar 24 07:08:57 3005 The lights are set at their brightest level as the mainday watch begins. A footlocker is here.

Ren Arnassis has made himself comfortable in the wardroom with a meal of beer and baked beans.

Steam spills out the doorway of the compact washroom as the hatch slips open. Mika pads out a few moments later, tying her hair back with a bright red hair scarf and looking very much refreshed. "We need," she announces to the figure in the kitchen, "a blinkin' massage 'ead fer th' shower. I got tension I need burn off, get me?" But she pauses when she realizes it's Arnassis sitting there. "Oh. S'you."

Ren Arnassis looks back at Mika from under his eyebrows again. "When you'd rather it isn't, it usually is," Ren growls in his gravelly voice. "So you wan' hear 'bout the thing or not?"

Mika yanks open the refrigeration unit and rifles through it, coming up with two bottles of beer and a frozen dinner. The latter she pops into the reheater. "God, real blinkin' FOOD," she comments hungrily, punching in buttons with considerable fervor. "Yes, please, tell me what th' 'ell's goin' on," she eventually answers.

"I'm a mean, angry, disillusioned son of a bitch, and I had the opportunity to sell you out and yer entire crew along wit' you a coupla months back, when I started workin' fer some people before I knew exactly what they were up ta. I didn' fer two reasons - one, you out-n-out tol' me exactly what I was s'posedta sell to the people I worked fer at the time - and two, asshole that I am I still ain' sick enough to do somethin' that'd see Katriel hurt. So as it stands I got a certain Vollistan waitin' to hear from me," Ren says point-blank, "and I wouldn' plan on gettin' in touch again now that nobody's well bein' is an immediate issue excep' that this whole thing weighs kinda heavy on my professional conscience. I'd much rather double cross the shifty fuck who I'm workin' for, but after I do that, my reputation is gonna be shot an' I'll be outta work fer a long damn time." He regards Mika with blatant calculation.

Though she's got her back turned to Ren, it doesn't take much to see that this bit of information startles her. Her head snaps up and her back straightens, bt just for a moment. Then she returns to the diligent task of mixing her drink. "Which Voll'stan?" she questions mildly, pouring the contents of one bottle over an odd-looking spoon until the ice-cold stein is filled halfway. "There're two who'd like t'see m'blood spill."

"The sister," Ren says. "Not the brother." He leans back and folds his arms. "Look. I'm tryin' to make my name in my business an' this shit is gon' reflect rather poorly on my professional record if it gets out. You're a big girl an' you got plenty of friends who help you handle yer business, so you got two choices. Either I'm goin' to my clien' an' give her what she wants, and you watch your ass for her comin', or I set up a meet wit' my clien' somewheres and she, by some twist of fate and through no fault of my own, never fuckin' shows." At this, the bearded Lunite leans forward and rests his elbows on his thighs. "I have too much respec' fer you to sugges' you would ever be as looselipped about how you found out where she migh' be found as you were about what you did to get the price on yer head in the firs' place, an' with who."

"Th' reason I was loose-lipped with ya," Mika explains, setting aside the first bottle, picking up the second, and repeating the process, "s'cause Katriel tol' me I coul' trus' ya. But after some time 'way from 'er I've bloody realized she'd tell me I coul' safely trus' Satan 'imself." She tosses the spoon into the sink and turns to face him, leaning back on the counter with arms crossed. "My modus op'randi's a li'l diff'rent these days. The question is, Mr. Arnassis," she tilts her head, studying the Lunite, "shoul' I trus' y'gain?"

"Yea, Katriel ain' exactly the best judge of character," Ren says, "but you shoul' be askin' yersel' a different question - if you shouldn' trus' me, wouldn' you already be dead or getting mindfucked? Gimme the credit I fuckin' deserve, if I had planned on givin' that Vollistan what she wanted you'd be pretty well screwed by now. Shoul' you trus' me or what I got to say? You c'n answer that question yer damn self." He leans back, gestures once with his hands, then crosses one big arm over the other. His suit jacket's shoulders hike up a little bit with the motion.

Jason Reilly enters from the ship's airlock. Jason Reilly has arrived.

Arms crossed, Arnassis sits in a chair in the wardroom. Mika is fixing herself a drink nearby.

The oven dings, and Mika takes her sweet time turning around and retreiving her dinner, pulling back the film screen and blowing on it. "S'a very interestin' question indeed," she muses, digging out a fork and hefting herself up onto the counter next to her black and tan. Her hand goes to her commlink, and she speaks into it. "Reilly. Can I steal ya fer a sec?"

Trudging into the crew quarters is Jason Reilly, still looking sour from having to take on passengers. He grumbles loudly as he looks towards Mika. "I think one of those damned civvies went through my stuff.."

Ren Arnassis grunts impassively. "It's up to you," he says. His body language is relaxed and his eyes seem to follow Reilly's arrival almost lazily.

Mika ignores the Martian for now, crossing one leg over the other and picking at her food while it cools. "So, s'go over our options, you'n me, Arnassis," says the Jackal's captain, "there's A: y'go back t'Volnohmehrsea with our information. There's B: I trus' y'ta 'elp me take care've 'er. Given what I know 'bout our Voll'stan friends, I'd rather not take m'chances. So, I b;ieve I'm gonna 'ave t'go with Option C." She nods her head at Reilly, nods her head to the Lunite, and simply drags her finger across her throat.

Jason Reilly

Jason Reilly stands at about 5'10", with brown eyes and short, dark red hair. His form doesn't denote a lot of muscle mass, but you can tell that all the muscle he has is lean and strong. On his face there is a scar about 2 inches long, running down his cheek. On his body, he wears a simple shirt which hangs loosely over a pair of pants. The shirt is worn underneath a light jacket which looks to be mostly used to carry various items, as it's pockets all seem rather full. Jason also wears a pair of sturdy, heavy boots on his feet. All of his clothes seems to be well-worn, with the boots being scuffed and very broken in, and the jacket showing signs of being involved in some less-than-polite conversations, with a few repaired tears and areas that are worn thin with usage.

Jason Reilly nods at Mika silently, withdrawing an obsidian-bladed knife and taking a quick step to close the distance between Ren and himself, holding the blade parallel to his arm, and looking to draw it across Ren's throat with a quick slash.

Ren Arnassis isn't nearly fast enough to be ready for Jason when he arrives, but he's surprisingly limber for his size. The Lunite sidesteps and his chair clatters over sideways as he draws his own knife and brings it slicing in an upwards motion, intent on opening Reilly's belly.

"Sonuvabitch," Mika snarls, apparently having hoped it wouldn't take more than that. Setting her food aside, she hops down to the floor, grabbing one of the two bottles and shattering it on the counter's edge. Stepping around the broken shards, she approaches the Lunite herself with the intent to double-team.

The Martian, however, seems to be ready for the slicing attack, and instead of merely dodging it, he uses his free hand to knock the knife-wielding hand away, bringing his own weapon back down to slash low across Ren's neck.

It's Ren's turn now. His eyes flicker sideways at the sound of the broken bottle, but snap back in time to focus on the knife hand. In a practiced motion he knocks the knife aside and, stepping with it, swipes his blade down with the clear intent of severing muscle, tendon, and quite possibly bone in Reilly's knife arm.

And it's that moment Mika chooses to spring forward, bottle clucked in one hand, its jagged edges seeking to plant themselves firmly in Ren's side. And if successful, man, she gives that thing a good hard twist.

As his hand is slashed, forcing him to release the knife, Jason takes a dive, allowing Mika to go at Ren for a bit. The Martian's dive lands him near the footlocker, and with a swift move he seizes up a waiting pulse pistol, rolling and taking aim at Ren from a position on his back.

Jason Reilly drops Heavy Knife

Harm enters from the ship's airlock. Harm has arrived.

Ren Arnassis moves like it was choreographed. Jason was facing him and Mika tried to stab him from behind; Arnassis sidesteps past the diving Jason, placing the man between himself and the bottle-wielding woman. He takes advantage of the moment of free space and takes two steps back. By the time Jason is aiming at Ren ... Ren is aiming at Jason with a very large pistol, the knife switched to his off hand and held loosely at his side. The pistol's telltales glow a menacing green and indicate that this asshole with a gun kept it charged the entire time he was aboard the Jackal. "This is a 630B Midvyet," Ren growls. "Means I got three chances to shoot your ass before you even get one. Now put the damn thing down." His eyes don't move sideways to Mika, but it's apparent his next words are aimed at her. "Goes for you too, you shifty piece a shit."

"Me shifty?" Mika growls. "Y'come on m'ship feedin' me that bullshit an' 'xpect me t'play ball? What th' CHRIST, Arnassis. When't blinkin' comes t' those Voll'stans, I don't take no chances. Yer a smart man. Y'know 'ow they do." She doesn't make another move beyond readjusting her grip on the bottle and narrowing her eyes. "Now. Y'wanna go t'yer client? Fine. Go t'yer goddamned client. But y'get th' 'ell off'a m'ship, an' so 'elp me Christ if'n yer 'thin a fifty-mile radius'a me 'gain in th' future I'll be comin' at ya with somethin' other'n a blinkin' bottle."

Jason just stays on the ground, the pistol held in his off-hand, steadily aimed at Arnie's head. The Martian doesn't even so much as blink as Ren makes his speech, his utterly emotionless glare levelled at the other man as he's seen through the gun sights. However, he doesn't fire as Mika speaks, not allowing himself to even so much as look at the Captain.

Pad-squish, pad-pad, slap. The sound of moist bare feet hitting deck plating. "I totally forgot my Quaquan salt scrubs." Comes the exuberant and enthusiastic drawl of the Jackal's lawyer, a scant second before she actually appears: fluffy pale pink body towel wrapped tightly around her torso, and a matching one wrapped around her head in girly turban. Aside from her bare tanned arms, her shapely calves are the only skin seen. Without even noting the violence and commotion happening in the background, the blonde is slipping through the crew quarters toward her bunk. "I know, right? There I was, dipping into the tub, and - oh, my god - I completely forgot the most essential part of any bath pampering." She pauses to look into the mirror that hangs against the wall of her bunk, baring her white teeth to ensure that nothing's stuck between them. The words "Do Your Best!" written across the top of the mirror in pink, with little flower decals.

"I don' wan' be dealin' with that fuckin' bitch any more than your hired gun here wants three pulse blasts through the forehead. I show you the common courtesy of honesty an' fair dealin' - when someone's offering me MONEY to fuck you over - because an' only because yer frien's wit' someone I like. An' this is how you pay me back? Naw, fuck that. Tell yer buddy to drop the gun." Ren's arm remains motionless.

The inopportune arrival of Harmony gets a sidelong flickering glance from Ren. "She can go back to 'er bath," he says, returning his gaze to Reilly.

Mika's lips tighten into a frown, and she looks the Lunite over. "'onesty an' fair dealin'," she parrots. "M'sorry, Arnassis, but fool me once, y'know. Y'were 'pproachin' me 'fairly'n 'onestly' back'n Mars, too. As we're at a blinkin' impasse 'ere, s'jus' part blinkin' ways. Can't convince me."

Jason continues to just aim down the barrel at Ren, not a single muscle in his body moving from it's assigned duty. He still doesn't even blink, so completely focused on keeping the gun aimed that he barely seems to notice anything else that is occuring in the room, including the small pool of blood that is forming under his injured hand.

"You won' get me to the airlock until there's ground outside of it," Ren snarls. "I'm not the one bleedin. You get your ass to the cockpit and land somewhere an' maybe yer frien' will still be alive and tryin' to threaten me with that popgun when you're done. Better hurry. He's startin' to get pale."

Done with admiring her pearly whites, Harm, hygiene guru, purses her rosy lips into a blown kiss and wink at herself. Flawless. The bath-ready lawyer pops open her drawer to claim the coveted bath salts - imported straight from Quaquan. Ooooh. Ahh--what the hell? She blinks several times at the gun-totin' crewbie crazies. Time to flash the sweet and honey, Harmony. "Okay. Yeah... Well. I'm gonna let you guys do whatever it is you guys are gonna do, and we'll all just pretend that I was /never/ here." There's but a split-second pause. "Great, okay!" She starts side-stepping around the blood, people, and most importantly their weapons.

"Y'order me 'roun' on m'goddamned ship one more time, Arnassis, an' I'll blinkin' see t'it that y'find yer way outside, ground'r fuckin' not," Mika hisses, one eye twitching as she stares down Ren. "Put yer blinkin' gun down an' Reilly' drop 'is. 'e'll go t'medbay. Y'll finish y'goddamned baked beans. I'll get us t'th' surface an' we'll all part our merry li'l ways an' 'ope we don't cross each other 'gain in a dark blinkin' alleyway." Suddenly, her nose wrinkles, and it looks as if she's fighting back a sneeze. "... An' 'armony'll stop usin' body wash't tweaks m'blinkin' allergies..."

Ren Arnassis grunts. "You tried to have me killed once already, /Cap'n/," he growls lazily in his gravelly voice, eyes not leaving Reilly. "An' you got onna yer mates bleedin' on yer deck. 'Scuse me if I don' take yer threat too goddamn seriously no matter who's ship I'm on." His aim lowers to around Reilly's chest. "You droppin' yer gun? Or is shit startin' to git blurry'n lose focus? 'S blood loss. Sets in after the shock wears off." One corner of Ren's mouth twists up in a hint of an evil grin.

As soon as Mika issues the command, Jason deposits the pulse pistol back into the footlocker and stands with a rather quick move, not showing any sign of letting the injury slow him down. He levels a rather neutral gaze at Ren, not seeming to care one way or another about the threats leveled at either party. He looks to Mika, and to his hand, which still drips blood. "I'll be fine until we reach planetside."

Harmony halts in her escape, face frowing flat and then showing insult. "Hey! It's better than the smell you were wearing on G'ahnlo. You know, when you were in /jail./" She emphasizes with an arch in her pale eyebrows, arms crossing over her chest indignantly. Doesn't matter that the world could be ending, it'd still be like this. "What was that scent again? Au du toilet?"

"Not a good ti-i-i-i-ime fer this, 'arm," Mika chimes through clenches teeth.

Ren Arnassis lets his gun hand drop to his side, tucking his knife away first into a sheath set along the straps for his shoulder holsters. On closer inspection there is a gun tucked under his other armpit too, a smaller one. The twist to his mouth fades back to the normal scowl and he watches Jason leave with the level of hostility that more or less indicates impassivity for the cranky Lunite. The exchange between Mika and her cousin induces no comment.

"Oh. Sure. /Now/ you're all 'armony, not a good time fer this.'" Harmony streams outloud with a disgruntled air, her tone adopting her cousins accent in a very marred and twisted echo of what it truly it. "After you start it up. Okay, yeah, I get it now. Always picking. Picking, picking, picking." And another several mumbling comments that are inaudible as she returns to the bathroom. SLAM. Open... "I hope you go pre-maturely gray!" SLAM. Open... "Okay, now, don't shoot the bathroom, please?" Quiet close.

Jason Reilly looks to the bunks, and pulls his pillowcase off of his bed. He takes a quick step to take up his knife again, and slices a strip off of the pillowcase, returning to his bunk. Sitting down on it and setting the knife down next to him, he bandages his hand up using only his off-hand, in what looks to be a practiced movement. "I -will- kill her one day." he says, though makes no mention of who he is speaking about.

The repeated open-and-close of the bathroom door just draws a cringe from Mika, and she drops her bottle. "Now y'see why I tend t'do stupid shit that begs certain death," she mutters bitterly, glaring at the ceiling. "Reilly, thank ya. Go get patched up. Arnassis, enjoy yer supper." She raises her voice. "An' 'armony, I jilled off with yer loofah!" Senseless violence, burnt bridge, Wednesday for Mika Tachyon. Without a care in the word she pads toward the cockpit.

[OOC] Ren Arnassis says, "and I double dog dare you to ask him to pay fare."

"An' y'still owe us fare!" she hollers back from the corridor.

[OOC] Mika laughs.

"I didn' kill you or anyone on yer crew given a damn good opportunity an' more'n enough justification. You know where to put yer fuckin' fare," Ren growls back.

Mika punches in a keypad code and enters the ship's airlock. Mika has left.

Mika enters from the ship's airlock. Mika has arrived.

[OOC] Mika says, "There you go, darling :) Thanks for the fun."

Jason Reilly shrugs lightly, standing and making his way towards the cockpit as well, now that the hand has been bandaged by the torn-up pillowcase. He glances back to Ren. "The fight's over, you can stop now." he says, before returning to his bunk for his datapad and heading towards the cockpit. (repose)

[OOC] Ren Arnassis says, "My pleasure. Here's to many more." [OOC] Jason Reilly says, "Indeed." [OOC] Harm mwahs. [OOC] Mika says, "Toodles."

"Good luck wit' yer hand. Women these days don' like scars like they usedta." Ren passes Reilly and moves through the airlock.