1800 Saturday, 07 Oct 2062, Eleven Eleven Tavern, Tacoma, UCAS

The Captain wasn’t a tall man, nor impressively built, but he carried the lean whipcord muscles of a lifetime at sea. His face was seamed leather, a gift from the harsh sun and salt wind. He stood with a hand thrust inside the heavy wool peacoat, surveying the smokey interior of the Eleven Eleven Tavern. He rubbed his jaw absently, fingers rasping across three days worth of stubble, an unconscious gesture that worked to settle his mind. Moving with the easy rolling gait that’s marked sailors since the days of wood and canvas, he strode with authority to the bar. Reaching up, he grasped the monkey fist knot at the end of the clapper and sounded two sharp notes from the brass bell. Conversation stilled instantly, weathered faces turning towards him in mild surprise and eagerness; to ring the bell without provocation meant buying a round for the bar. The Captain knew as much, tossing a wad of varicolored paper on the bar, scrip from all major corporations and half a dozen nations around the Pacific Rim. His piercing gaze scanned the assembly once more.

“I need six able bodies for a salvage operation. They need to be ready to leave within twelve hours. I’ve got a short notice contract for a valuable salvage and I can’t get all of my crew back from furlough. There’s no advance, we’ll only get paid if we bring her back to dock. But the racks are dry, the coffee’s strong, and its three squares a day. If you’re interested, the ship is the INTREPID, berthed at pier fourteen. We sail at first light.”

The Captain rasped his hand across his jaw again, working through the contingencies in his mind. Satisfied, he nodded to himself, pausing long enough to sweep the bar again with his gaze before striding towards the door.

“Carry on.”

Glass of rum in one hand, cooling plate of beer battered fish at the other, Ichiro Kaname Krorburuku Runner-Extrodinaire sits fuming.

"Goddamned Elf-poser!" He curses under his breath as he takes a sip of alcohol. The Eleven-Eleven Tavern isn't the normal kind of bar that he'd frequent, but it seemed like a good place to sit and bitch to himself when he'd spotted it while walking down the wharf.

His first day in Tacoma had been great. He'd come from Seattle to spectate and wager at an Underground Stick-Fighting Tournament that he'd gotten word about. Back in Seattle, Ichiro's fixer, a corpulent elf (maybe poser) named Fat Charlie had given him a sure-thing tip just before he left, and now he sits in a bar without enough money to make it back to the sprawl.

"Sure-thing, yeah right." he bemoans as he takes a bite of the soy-fish. Actually, Fat Charlie's tip had probably been given in good spirit, it had just been flat out wrong and Ichiro had watched his money go up in flames as his chosen fighter went down with a smashed skull. Now he railed on the Fixer because the only other person to complain about is himself.

"Now I've got to figure out how to make some money so I can get back home." He mumbles as he drains the last of his drink. At just this moment a man rings the big brass bell near the door. Turning around in annoyance, Ichiro spies the Captain, and is immediately interested. Listening to the man's spiel then watching him leave, Ichiro begins to think, looking down at the large duffel by his feet.

"God knows I've got enough gear to run, but I've got no connection to the runner community here." He muses about what working on the sea might be like, he'd never been on a ship before. It takes about thirty more seconds and two more bites of fish before his mind is made up. Leaving a tip on the table, Ichiro grabs his duffle bag and leaves the tavern, heading for pier 14 and whatever future the INTREPID might hold for him.

The cramped Greyhound bus came to a sudden stop. Shaking the drowsy Ork awake. Daniel looked out the dirt smeared window to his new home. Acid rain poured down in never ending sheets, pitting the buildings and forcing the citizens to cover. The burly ork stood with a sigh. The trip from Georgia had been long and cramped. Daniel “Downtown” Townsend, of late Staff Sergeant Townsend, stepped off the bus, dressed in jungle combat boots, forest cammo pants and a brown t-shirt covered with another forest cammo jacket. He waited patiently as the driver unloaded all the bags, he spotted his right away. He inspected them carefully, they were all he had left in the world. Two olive drab duffle bags with the name “Townsend” stenciled on them in big black letters. One carried his clothes, kit and gilla suit. The other duffle, in hard shelled secure cases, were his guns and armor.

A slightly used Colt Manhunter service pistol, chambered for .45 ACP, and a Walther MA-2100 that fired a .338 Lapua Magnum round, perfect for his needs. The two weapons had a suit of FFBA wrapped snuggly around them. He was damn lucky he had managed to sneak that much out. If it was up to his ex-co Daniel would be in prison right now, not Tacoma.

“Feels like prison though,” the ork muttered out loud.

After checking on his bags Daniel slung them and started walking. Rain dripped off his forest cammo boony hat. He walked for an hour, heading down the hilly terrain toward the harbor and the mud flats. He didn’t know where he was going, or what he would do when he got there, but he hopped for something. All his adult life had been spent in training for ops. Getting better, doing it better, staying strong. Shooting, physical conditioning, mental preparation. All this left little time for Danny to really know about the country outside the base. The rain continued to pour as Danny marched, tirelessly determined. He would march all the way to Seattle if he had to. He lacked the funds to get there any other way.

The wind changed and started blowing from the north, a cold breeze shot through him and he shivered, I could use a drink. He looked up, facing the rain, before him a sign proclaimed Eleven Eleven Tavern – food - beer.

“Must be a damn sign,” he said aloud with a grin.

Daniel walked in. The first thing the ork noticed was the smell of the place, like dead rotting fish. As he moved in he began to pick up the individual smells, the scents that associate to each person. From it he determined it was mostly fisherman, harmless. Taking a booth in the back he ordered the cheapest bear on tap, and a bacon burger. While waiting for the food to arrive, the bell rang capturing his attention.

After the captain departed, Danny looked up to the ceiling and whispered,

“thank you god.”

He ate his food with a tusky grin. A warm bed and three squares a day was more than he could hope for. Not wanting to lose a spot he finished his burger fast, washing it down with one large gulp of beer that emptied the glass. Tossing his last ten nuyen on the table Danny headed for the door, his destiny, and a ship called INTREPID.

The young woman sighed and glanced about, growing more and more impatient with each passing moment. She stood beside her racing bike, a sleek matte black affair with deep metallic blue detailing that screamed 'speed' even in perfect stillness, the glossy helmet resting at the back of the seat was airbrushed with a cresting wave on either side. Clear indigo eyes peered at the face of her antique Cartier watch and it was all she could do not to tap her foot; 5:45, the woman she was to meet was nearly half an hour late. Glancing about the dock area, she knew that she was well concealed, only someone with directions would find here here, that, or someone that was luckier than she....

The firey backdrop of the setting Seattle sun reflected against satiny waves of raven black hair and refracted across her pale cheeks, someone spotting her here would be more likely to see a ghost wrapped in a long jacket than the starkly lovely girl that was on a schedule. A soft voice rang in her mind, low and singsong, moments before a glowing fish materialized before her eyes, "she's coming, she's coming!" and a greater presence behind her, a fiercely commanding young 'man' in leathers whispered just behind her porcelain-hued ear, "she's alone, just down that way," he points east and then steps back quietly, fading into nothingness though his presence is still tangible. 'So she was coming after all,' the porcelain-skinned woman thought to herself with a small smile playing across her plush rose coloured lips, one hand idly lowered to pat the leather pouch in her pocket. Seashells for the lady, and a black pearl besides; it was looking to be a good night for Meryth after all.

...

She made her way from the docks and decided that her new formula could wait until morning; the profit she'd made already would be more than a good reason to celebrate. Pondering dinner at Matchsticks and discarding the idea quicky, the decision to head to a more 'discreet' place was affected without too much more thought. Crystalline eyes found a small building, 'The Eleven Eleven Tavern,' it was perfect.

The tavern wasn't her sort of place and anyone seeing her now would note that as well. Her clothes were fitted (they were made for her and her alone), and even if she had donned the standard October turtleneck and slacks combo, slate blue cashmere and the supplest black suede were not all that common by the Tacoma docks no matter how understated. She found an empty booth right off, taking a few moments to scan the interior of the bar as well as its occupants, deeply dark eyes peering out from behind pale aquamarine lenses as she made a few quick mental notes about some of the more prominant ones and only ceased when a sleepy-looking waitress came to take her order. The only sign she made of the clanging bell and the Captain's offer was a slight nod; she kept her elation carefully masked and withdrew a notepad and her favourite MontBlanc pen. Her food came a while later, a platter stacked high with battered cod and freshly fried chips with a mug of dark brew besides, though she barely noticed as she jotted a detailed list of all she'd need before morning.

The distant touch of spray off the ocean barely registered on Schnell as he scanned out with electric eyes, seeking the trailing ship he knew had followed.

The ghost of a digital scowl touched his lips as he raced away, the bow of the rising up out of the water in occasional skips as he jetted across the surface, pushing the new turbocharging to the red line. A three dimensional view of the ocean around him showed a sand bar to his left, a school of fish swimming below him, and...there. Another boat full of heavily armed and armored men dropped back steadily, unable to maintain speed.

Longjohn's plan had been crazy, of course, as most of them were, and of course the illegal casino just off the coast quickly caught the attention of Lone Star's naval division. As was typical, they had been more worried about firepower then speed. Of course, it had also provided the best place for an indiscrete transaction of a certain item from CalFree State. He mentally snarled. The Johnson had run at the first blare of the sirens, not even bothering to take the box he had been willing to pay so handsomely for, and he definitely did not drop the credstick that was supposed to finance this last little venture. So here he was, cruising toward the Tacoma docks and CHRISTINE with a small, sealed black box, no cred, and in need of somewhere to avoid the port authorities for a little while.

Ah well, it would be easy enough to hook up with another of the smuggler caravans moving down south. They were a bit cuthroat, but fairly professional...professional thieves, that was.

~~~

Not quite ready to deal with the typical thugs haunting Nicky's favorite diner, he tied up and saught out the Eleven Eleven. Filled more with honest workers then shadowrunners, the food was greasy but cheap. The armored jacket he wore was barely out of place, and served to cover grease smudged sweater bearing evidence of the last few modifications to ANGELICA.

At the sound of the bell, he cocked his head towards the door, listening with half an ear as he munched on something fried that was supposedly fresh fish. As the Captain's words sunk in, a half smile crept across thin lips. Brushing his hands off on the RealDenim™ jeans, he headed out the door, sure the Captain could use another boat, and someone that knew their way around one.

Sitting in a haze of alcohol fumes at the bar, Os’ was quite comfortably drunk. Beer and shot glasses were strewn about the bar in front of him, accumulated from a decent three hours’ worth of drinking. This wasn’t his usual haunt, but he’d been laying low for the last couple of days and it was his policy to keep off the beaten track when the heat was on. Normally he wouldn’t have drunk so much in this situation either, but he was really, really bored, and reading books just wasn’t going to do it for him.

Hearing the bar door open, Os looked over his shoulder, too drunk for subtlety, to see the Captain walk in. The man’s determined demeanor suggested that he was here to sort out some business, rather than have a good time, and his obvious focus on the bell at the end of the bar told Os that the Captain intended to make an announcement. Covering his ears to block out the sound of the bell ringing, Os decided to pay attention to what ever the Captain had to say, seeing as he was going to get a free drink out of it anyway.

Not normally one to pick up on out-of-the-blue freelance jobs like this, Os immediately recognised the benefits of taking up the offer. It would give him some incognito work to keep him busy for a while, get him out of Seattle for a couple of days, and put a bit of money in his pocket. Not to mention that most of his gear was in his car at the moment, so he wouldn’t have to worry about driving back to his safe house, inebriated to all hell, and getting picked up by Lone Star.

Of course, he probably wouldn’t have been interested if his reasoning mind had been working properly, and if there wasn’t a barrier of ethanol blocking any memories of obligations in Seattle, but then he was pretty smashed, so it was out to sea for him.

“Oi, barkeep,” Os said in his distinctive, although slightly slurred, Australian accent. “Pour me a shot of Vodka and a glass of water, I’ll be back after I drain me main vein.”

With that, he stood up off the bar stool and made his way to the toilets. Once he was through with that, it was his intention to spend another hundred nuyen on drinks, get kicked out of the pub at closing time, haul his gear onto the Interprid and then find a place to sleep on the boat.

2100 Saturday, 07 Oct 2062, Pier 14, Tacoma Docks, UCAS

The earlier rain had slacked to a gentle mist, washing the air clean of its usual heavy reek of diesel exhaust, garbage, and rotting fish. The waters of the sound lapped against the concrete pilings of Pier 14, swirling the floating pockets of oil and gas into exotic rainbow paintings. The vessel tied up alongside the pier strained at her mooring lines like an eager hunting hound, her decks glistening beneath the illumination of multiple banks of halogen floodlights.

Measuring some eighty meters long overall, the INTREPID was a purpose built open ocean salvage tug. Her bow rose at a sharp rake, gunwhales folded back upon themselves to allow her to nuzzle close to another wounded vessel. The stepped forward deck gave her the look of a warship, with a heavy hydraulic crane and the pair of remote controlled fire monitors taking the place of turreted guns. Above them rose the pilot house, wide armored windows providing an unrestricted view of the surrounding ocean. Just aft of the pilot house were a pair of additional heavy lift cranes, capable of moving replacement parts and tools to the decks of adjacent ships. A pair of Zodiac rigid hull inflatable boats rode in cradles between the cranes, protected from the harsh salt spray by canvas tarps. Beneath the crane deck sat the massive three barreled winch assembly, the steel tow wire wound on the capstan below decks. Controlled from the aft station in the pilot house above, the winch was capable of making the most minute adjustments to a tow. The wide open after deck was dimpled with recessed tie-down padeyes for cargo containers as well as the parts and tools required for the task at hand. The robust stern roller and guide pins showed numerous repainted gouges, evidence of hard fought battles in the past. With her black hull and haze gray superstructure, INTREPID looked every inch the powerful vessel she was.

On the bridge wing of the tug, a dark haired man leaned against the railing. He paced aft briefly, staring out over the frantic activity taking place on the pier. Two Ares Roadmaster's were backed up almost to the brow, a line of crewmen handing stores and dry goods out from each, across the narrow steel gangway, and down into the hull. Heavy diesel fuel and water hoses hung between the ship and the pier, each hooked into its station onboard, delivering hundreds of liters per minute. He checked his watch briefly, before calling out to the young man supervising the work on the pier.

"Cookie! Get a move on with those stores. Captain says he's got new bodies coming to fill the empty racks. We're at eighty five percent on gas, CHENG says another five minutes will do it."

The individual addressed cocked an ear to his first officer before nodding his acknowledgment of the order. He checked the datapad in his left hand again, crossing off another pallet's worth of stores, before grinning at his sweating shipmates.

"Let's go boys, you heard the man. We've got four pallets to go and an hour to get it done. Move like you've got a purpose!"

A general grumbling about what Jeff could do with his purpose followed the comments, but the men on the line seemed to pick up their effort some in response to his encouragement. The rain continued to fall.

She nodded again, this time with a good deal of satisfaction as she peered at her list once more, almost smiling when she saw that there would be only two things she required before morning and both were easily obtainable. She rose gracefully, leaving a few neatly folded bills underneath her plate and signaling to the waitress on her way out, her gentle strides carrying her to the bike parked a few blocks away. Offering a last nod to the 'man' she'd asked to keep watch over the machine she would smile this time, pull on her helmet, and hurry to her townhouse to start packing.

There were two bags after an hour of carefully folding and placing the possions she'd need to bring along this time. One bag was partially filled as some of her gear was still loaded on 'The Green Lady;' she would have to pick the rest up first thing tomorrow. She sighed to herself and dialed her oldest friend's com number, offering a silent prayer that the graying woman remembered how to use the machine and laughed softly when the sound clicked in but the video feed didn't.

"Mirande, it's me. Would you be able to take me through the last of the wind-dance tonight or at least help me get to a place where I can work through the rest of it on my own?"

There is an extravagant sigh from the other end of the line.

"Oh all right, you can come over. But only for a little while! I have a gentleman caller stopping by later, and it just won't do for you to be mooning around with those soulful eyes of yours and that cute little tush. I'll be up in the solarium when you arrive, just let yourself in and come on up."

“That’s a big damn boat,” Danny muttered as he approached the INTREPID. The vessel towered above the docks casting it’s shadow down upon the loan Ork who stood before it. Danny had spent some time working with “squids” on a couple occasions. Once in the Balkans with some SEALS, and then he had spent some time on the carrier ENTERPRISE after a particularly bad egress had left him with three 7.62 rounds in his back. Both times he had enjoyed the discipline and the strength of the men who committed there lives to working at sea. By far a dangerous profession regardless of the type of work you do.

Danny hoisted his bag and headed for the gang plank. The slippery wood creaked as he walked up it. He was careful not to drop his bags, for fear they would end up in the water. Remembering a few things about the Navy he stopped before stepping foot on the ship, he looked around for some kind of purser.

Bellowing out in his best drill sergeant voice, “Permission to come aboard?”.

"Shome vacation..." Sam muttered sourly to himself as his cabbie rounded the turn to the docks. Sam had decided that a trip to another part of the country would do him some good, since he had barely left his home over the last few weeks. Sam had been in a rut, feeling sorry for himself, and having nightmares about drones coming for him in his sleep; the bad dreams were up to two or three a night now instead of just one.

The cab company hadn't listened to him when Sam told them that he was a troll, and that he would need a bigger cab. The first cab driver had been angry about not being told, and so, Sam had had to first set him straight with a few choice words to match the angry cabbie's, and then a few more on the call to the cab company. In all, Sam had waited 3 hours for a proper cab and spent several more riding on his little road trip.

It had been afternoon when he left Seattle, though Sam had intended to leave much earlier. He had fallen asleep on the way to L.A., which is where he was headed. Groggy, Sam wakes up after going over a bump in the road. Sam leaned up to the security glass of the window and shouted to the cabbie, "Where are we?"

"Tacoma... somewhere," was the cabbie's answer.

More than a little bit annoyed by the response, Sam said, "Shtop ta cab. Anywhere ish fine."

"Ok," said the cab driver.

As the taxi stops, Sam takes out his credstick and inserts it into the fare slot next to the fare meter.

After paying the cab fare, Sam gets out of the cramped taxi van with his duffle bag, causing it to rock from side to side as he steps out.

"Want me to wait for you?" asks the cabbie.

"No," Sam replies, "I don't need your shervicesh anymore."

"Right," says the cabbie, "See ya around, chummer." The van speeds off, back in the direction of the highway to Seattle.

Sam runs his hand over the light brown short-shaven hair of his head, as he looks around at his surroundings. He takes off the mirrored sunglasses he was wearing over his light brown eyes and dark orange face and puts them in one of the chest pockets of his Ulysses coat. The rain makes his head feel wet, though it rolls off of his coat, keeping the rest of him reasonably dry.

Vacation. Adventure. I've been watching too much Travel Channel. Getting home is sure to be as much an adventure as getting here, Sam thinks to himself.Looking around for a place to take shelter from the rain until it passes. Seeing the activity coming from the building nearby him and a small sign that reads 'Eleven Eleven Tavern', Sam says to himself, "I could use a drink." He walks toward the tavern carrying his duffle bag in hand.

At the door, Sam frowns at how small it is. Taking a quick look to make sure that nobody is coming out, he opens the door and carefully ducks through it, trying not to damage the door frame on his way in.

Once inside, Sam spots a pair of empty stools at the bar and walks directly across the floor toward them, his very large sneakers making a deep thud as he walks across the wooden planks of the floor. At the bar, Sam sets his duffle bag on the ground, causing a very loud thump, revealing that something quite heavy is inside of it. He ignores the brief drop in the noise level as people stop what they are doing and look for a few seconds before resuming. When the bartender comes over, Sam tells them, "Gimme a pitcher of your besht beer. Wid ishe." Sam stands at the bar where the two empty seats were, since it does not seem that the bar has any reinforced seats for trolls.

Sam watches the bartender prepare a pitcher of some German ale he had never heard of. After discreetly slipping the cable of his Skillsoft Jukebox into one of the datajacks at the base of his skull, Sam selects his German linguasoft and shuts his eyes for a moment while the device interfaces with his neurons. He says the name to himself, and translates it as "Huntmaster".

Heh. Hope it tastes as good as the name, Sam thinks to himself.

Upon hearing the bell ring, Sam does not react. When the Captain begins to speak, Sam turns and listens to what the man says. After hearing the offer Sam thinks to himself, Adventure after all. This could only give me something to write memoirs about. Even if there is no pay, it'll be worth it.

Sam refuses the glass that the bartender brings him, insisting on drinking from the pitcher. Sipping the pitcher of Jagermeister, Sam says flatly to himself, "Not bad." Actually, the beer is very tasty, but Sam isn't clearheaded enough to focus on the taste, having just woken up from a long ride in a taxi.

Minutes after the Captain's speech, the bartender comes over to Sam and says, "The Captain just bought drinks for the whole bar. You want me to put that pitcher on his tab or bring you another?"

Sam says, "No, tanksh. Put dish one on hish tab. I plan to shee about going on his shalvage trip." Sam finishes his pitcher of beer and sets it on the bar. He walks outside with his duffle bag, now that the rain has let up, and finds his way down to pier 14, where the INTREPID is "berthed."

Jeff steps out from the midships hatch, favoring the ork with a friendly smile.

"Come aboard!"

He leans against the bulkhead waiting for the newcomer.

"You must be one of the replacements the Captain was talking about. I'm Jeff Cook. You can call me Cookie, just about everyone else does. I've got you guys set up in the two aft staterooms, only one of which is setup for someone of your size."

Jeff frowns momentarily at the two large duffle bags.

"You sure you're going to need all of that stuff? We're a bit tight on space here, this ain't a luxury liner. There's maybe some room down in one of the aft machinery spaces, but I wouldn't count on it. You could always hope that your roommate packed light. C'mon, I'll show you down. Watch your head."

With that, Jeff turns and leads Danny inside. The midships hatch leads to a passage that spans the entire superstructure lengthwise, with a pair of passages leading aft. Jeff takes the second right, and then the first ladderway down. All of the staterooms, save that of the Captain, are on this deck. The single man staterooms for the First Officer and Chief Engineer are forward, followed by the two and four man staterooms for the remainder of the crew. Nestled in the crook of the bow are a pair of heads and the one set of three showers for the thirty six crewmembers. Jeff points to the second to last stateroom on the starboard side.

"Welcome to the funhouse. The head is upforward, between Cheng's and First's rooms. Showers, too. Wardroom is back up on the main deck, although Chevy's not cooking yet. We just finished stores onload so he's busy getting everything stowed below. Why don't you start unpacking and I'll stop by a little later if you've got any questions. Welcome aboard, mate!"

Sam finds the ship at the pier from some distance away by using his binoculars as he walks once he reaches the docks. Spotting the name INTREPID painted across the bow of one of the large tugs anchored there. Upon reaching the ship, Sam spots the men loading supplies and asks to speak to someone who can grant him access to the ship by saying, "Hey! Who can give me permission to come aboard? I need to ashk dem." One of them calls Jeff with a communicator on the wall.

Once Jeff returns, Sam greets him and says, "Hello, sir. I heard da captain's request for able-bodied people to aid in a shalvage operation. I've come to offer my aid. May I come aboard and speak wit da captain about this matter?"

Meryth bestowed one of her rare grins upon the blank tridscreen and chuckled good naturedly. "I'll be good, I promise. Look for me in fifteen."

She glanced around her finely appointed home once more and sighed, looking from the overstuffed chairs to her leather sofa set and then back to the two canvas bags near the door knowing that she hadn't packed one thing that was not needed but wishing (for a few moments anyway) she'd bothered to pack some of the more portable personal luxuries beyond those. Her driver was already waiting out front with the car and so without too much more thought she grabbed her bags and stumbled outside, carefully closing up the townhouse in case she ended up being away for longer than expected.

...

An extremely tired-looking young woman approached the INTREPID and by the face of her watch it wasn't yet 04:30; she'd slept three hours on her own small ship and was admittedly exhausted after the hour she'd spent learning the rest of the wind-dance from an impatient instructor. Meryth was proclaimed 'ready' shortly thereafter and then sat in a trance for yet another hour clutching the immaculate anklet she'd crafted while Mirande and her 'gentleman caller' had drinks (she'd made herself scarce and left after that). A taxi had taken her the rest of the way and there she stood, poised before the ship that would be her new home.

She'd garbed herself almost entirely in grey for this meeting, selecting sensible items that were warm without being too bulky in case she was expected to get to work right away. Her sapphire lambswool turtleneck, thin as it seemed, was nearly as warm as the charcoal-shaded coat she had placed on top of her bags and her fitted slate colored slacks allowed a range of movement that simple denim could not. There was something about the way she stood though, a sort of understanding in the way she tilted her head to appraise the ship, the INTREPID wasn't a cruise ship for certain although she did have a mighty grace about her that more than made up for whatever imaginary lack someone might conjure from the depths of their small uneducated mind. She smiled, almost able to smell the briny waves from here, and called out to the nearest figure on board.

"She's beautiful! Do you have room for one more?"

The two walked through the ship, Danny having to maneuver carefully because of the two duffle bags. "They don't take up as much room as they look. One has a bedroll and clothes, the other some 'personal' gear. Space won't be a problem," he says with a tusky smile.

Once in the room,

"This is great, sir. Plenty of room. I'll get stowed and try to get the layout of the ship down."

After Cookie leaves Danny drops his duffles on the bed and unpacks. He strips down and puts on a clean pair of BDU's as well as his FFBA. He stuffs his dirty clothes into a laundry bag and stows it under the bunk, he then uses his empty bag as pillow. He unpacked his weapons and layed them neatly out on his bunk.

"Salt airs is not going to be good for you puppies." Piece by piece Danny began to work, breaking down the weapons and putting a heavy coat of oil on them to protect them from the corrosive air. Once done he puts the riffle and it's ammo back in the hardcase and secures it under his bed. Danny picks the his Colt up and holds it in his hands. Pondering the need for such a weapon in tight quarters. Finally he decides against it and stuffs the weapon under his pillow. He attaches his bayonet to his belt and then hits the rack. Quickly falling into a light but restful sleep.

In amoungst loud yells of protestation, the bar patrons of the Eleven Eleven Tavern were ejected from the pub onto the rainy sidewalk. Os, slightly more cognative than the rest of the stragglers, stumbled over to his blue Ford Americar and popped the boot, keeping it fairly low so as not to get water in his car. After rummaging around for a couple of minutes (the most time consuming task being actually figuring out what he needed to take), he was satisfied with what he had packed into the army green duffel bag. Pulling the strings tight and grabbing a black, non-descript case from the depths of the boot, Os slammed the boot lid down, fumbled aroud with his keys until he found the right button to lock the car, and then haphazardly made his way down to pier 14.

After a couple of near misses (piers 12, 9, 10 and 15, respectively), he found himself where he wanted to be, and with a loud, piercing whistle, he attempted to raise someone out of the vessel.

Jeff arrives back on deck just in time to meet Sam amidships. He greets the newcomer warmly.

"Welcome aboard. Sorry about the delay, I was just showing your roommate down to the stateroom. The Captain's pretty busy right now, but you'll be able to speak to him tomorrow. Follow me and I'll show you down to your rack."

Later, having seen to anything that Sam needs, Jeff returns to his midship post, waiting for the remaining new bodies to show up. Work continued unabated to ready the INTREPID for the upcoming journey. He glances up from his datapad in response to Os' whistle, motioning with an empty hand.

"Come aboard! I guess you're here for the job. C'mon below, I'll show you to your stateroom."

Jeff leads Os below, showing him to the last stateroom on the starboard side. This one is setup for regular (meta)humans, with two sets of two bunks rather than the single set in the oversize (meta)human room. Giving the same brief tour as before, Jeff returns to the midships hatch in time to watch the approach of the stunning young woman down the dock. "Speaking of beautiful," he whispers under his breath.

"Come aboard! We've got three racks left, one of which is yours if you're here about the job. Luckily, one of them is in our female stateroom. C'mon, I'll show you the way." He smiles warmly at Meryth before leading her through the hatch.

Ichiro arrives at the dock and looks around for someone to lead him aboard the ship. He finds someone who looks like a sailor and chooses to ask him.

"Um, excuse me. I was told I could find some work here. Would you be able to help me out?"

Meryth nodded and pushed a rain soaked strand of hair from her eyes.

"Glad to hear it."

She was glad; the thought had crossed her mind that such a luxury would not be available but then that must also mean there were some female sailors (that would either be a very good thing or an incredibly bad thing, given that most women didn't seem to like her all that much). She picked up her bags, one over each shoulder, and extended a gloved hand once she'd boarded, offering a warm smile of her own to the open-faced young man and speaking her name in a voice that would carry a few feet and no farther. Her thickly soled boots offered excellent traction as the two of them made their way to her stateroom and she was careful to keep an eye out for anything she would dub out of the ordinary on the INTREPID, her deep indigo eyes open to both planes though she kept that hidden as best she could. After taking a quick look inside her new room, she'd set her bags down and turn again to Jeff, rolling her shoulders to work out any kinks from the way she'd slept earlier that night.

"All right then, I'm here to work. Where should I start?"

Jeff blinks in surprise before shrugging in some confusion.

"Uhm, I'm not sure. What can you do?"

Before Meryth, can answer, someone shouts down the ladderwell.

"Hey, Jeff, there's some guy on the pier asking for you!"

"Yeah, I'll be right up!" Jeff gives Meryth an apologetic half-smile before turning towards the ladderwell. "Why don't head on up to the bridge, I think First is still up and he can put you wherever works best. It's up two decks and forward, you can't miss it."

Jeff arrives on deck a minute later, finding Ichiro waiting for him.

"Welcome aboard, mate. Grab your gear and follow me, I'll show you to your rack."

She smiled again and inclined her head toward Jeff.

"Thank you for your help; I'll take your advice get started."

So it was up to see First then, Meryth thought to herself as she stowed her gear safely under her bed, what _can_ I do here without giving myself away?. With a quick shrug she'd climb up two decks and forward to find out, glancing for the first available person and politely asking if she could speak with First at his earliest convenience.

There was no point in sitting around doing nothing, especially not if there was any sort of holdup that would delay their journey....

Sam follows Jeff as best he can, trying not to get stuck in tight areas. The nine foot tall troll has some trouble keeping up when going through doorways, but he manages to keep pace. Once in his room, Sam immediately locates his rack and finds a place to store his duffel bag nearby.

Ichiro is surprised by his unquestioning acceptance, but is also glad that he doesn't have to explain too much. He still isn't exactly sure what is going on, but he does know that this is his best bet at getting some money.

He crosses the gangplank carefully, hoping that he doesn't look too much like a newby, and then follows the man on the deck to the place where he'll be living during the voyage. After getting to the tight room he looks to see if he is rooming with anyone, then introduces himself to his guide.

"Name's Ichiro Kaname," the dwarf says with an outstreched hand.

A few hours work finds him standing on the gangplank looking up at the INTREPID.

He calls up, and waits as the reply to hold for Jeff comes back down.

When Jeff arrives, he greets the man with a smile and a handshake, and introduces himself as Det.

"I'm in bit of a tight spot. I've got a boat of my own, and I don't trust the locals 'round here to take well enough care of her. I figure it would save you a bit of bunkspace, worst case. Any problems with me bringing it along?"

Jeff shakes Ichiro's hand.

"Jeff Cook, nice to meet you. You can take your time and get everything stowed for sea, we've still got a couple of hours before departure and everyone's running around like crazy. If you need anything, I'll be up at the midships hatch. Otherwise, welcome aboard."

Jeff ducks out, returning to his post in time to greet Det. He frowns in thought at the request.

"I'm not so sure that would be a good idea. I think the Captain would prefer to have as few complications as possible for this run, and keeping formation with someone who we've never worked with before would definitely complicate matters. Not to mention all the logistics of making sure you're vessel is provisioned and fueled for the long haul. I'll tell you what, come with me up to the bridge and we'll talk to First and see what he has to say about it."

Jeff turns and leads Det forward. Meanwhile, on the bridge, First Officer David Soong turns as he hears his name, the look of snarling annoyance immediately replaced with surprise and almost delight at the lovely creature searching for him.

"I'm First Officer David Soong, what can I do for you?"

Meryth smiles ever so slightly, always enjoying the change that her appearance brought out in others, and extended her gloved hand. Her voice comes out low, almost breathily, and once again only carries as far as the dark haired first officer.

"Well Mr Soong, I'm here to find out how I can help the INTREPID prepare for her voyage; I'm not used to such a large lady as this but I'm sure you'll be able to think of something I can do...."

She trails off and raises the corner of her rose-hued mouth as she awaits a response, her dark eyes almost seeming to lose focus for an instant before she nods as if in satisfaction over something she'd just noticed.

Sam tests out his rack by laying on it to see if it will hold him. It creaks a bit when he climbs into it or out of it, but the rack seems sturdy enough. Having satisfied himself that the rack will do, Sam leaves the room. He heads for above decks. Once on deck, Sam looks around for Jeff and examines the activities going on around him. He talks to some of the sailors to find out where Jeff is.

David coughs in mild embarrassment, brushing his hands together quickly.

"Yes, well, it might help if you were to list some of your qualifications. Are you a navigator? Pilot?"

The helmsman, the only other individual on the bridge, stares unabashedly at Meryth. First only notices as he glances around, seeking to break the almost hypnotic draw of the young woman's face. He clears his throat noisily, and the sailor snaps back into his seat, eyes staring straight ahead and a flush rising to his young cheeks.

Aft of the pilothouse, Jeff leans tiredly against one of the heavy lift cranes, supervising the release of the two fueling lines. After six hours the INTREPID's bunkers are full to the brim with diesel marine fuel, capable now of driving her thousands of kilometers across the open ocean to complete her task. He turns in response to his name, greeting Sam with a wave.

"What's up? Everything ok with the stateroom?"

Sam looks down to Jeff and says, "Yesh, it will do jusht fine. I came along because I tought it might be a unqiue exshperience to shail and help shalvage a shunken veshel, " Sam smiles at Jeff, "The Captain shaid he needed able-bodied volunteersh to help, sho I was shure that a guy MY shize would be usheful."
Sam looks around, feeling somewhat out of place, and says, "I've... never been shailing before. Where do I shtart? Do you need me to help you load shupplies or should I go and shee de Captain firsht?"

Jeff shrugs, his eyes sweeping out across the darkened harbor.

"Well, we're going to be underway here in about another hour so there's really not that much grunt work left that you could help out with. Why don't you just head below and hit the rack. The Captain's called an all hands meeting in the wardroom tomorrow just before lunch. You'll have a chance to speak with him then if you'd like."

Meryth arches a slender black eyebrow, wondering if her words were taken the wrong way, and tilts her head to one side as she considers this, carefully disguising a smile so as not to make anyone less than comfortable in her presence. She'd shake her head after a few moments, lifting unfathomably dark eyes to rest upon Mr. Soong's face.

"I've done both before though I'd hardly call it a dedicated profession; most of my experience has been on smaller craft ... I'm better with sails than engines to tell the truth. I'm here to help with the salvage operation in any way possible, whether I'm asked to haul barrels about all day or stand watch for a few minutes while someone runs to check something belowdecks ... I'm here to do what I can." She shrugs lightly and continues in a clipped, almost businesslike tone.

"I do best with people, really, but when it comes to being on a ship I can usually hold my own. Few things escape my notice when I'm posted to watch."

Meryth smiled, just a little, and opened her eyes once more to the swirling blues, golds, whites, and greens of the Astral, glancing about for some sign of a friendly presence that many others would not see.

Sam says to Jeff, "Well, if dere is really noting left for me to do, I shupposhe I can get shome rest. Anyting you can share about dis ship we are shupposhed to shalvage? How did it shink? What are we going to be needed for?"

First nods his understanding, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of mild annoyance.

"Of course. Well, we're pretty set right now for getting underway, we'll have a better idea of where you'll fit in once the usual watch routine is implemented. The Captain's called an all hands meeting just before lunch tomorrow, which is where I'm sure we'll iron out any details left outstanding."

He pauses for a moment before continuing.

"Have you ever used a naval control network?"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jeff shakes his head.

"The Captain hasn't spoken about the salvage except to say that we must leave immediately. To tell the truth, I'm kind of curious about the whole thing myself. I guess we'll just have to wait until tomorrow."

Ichiro picks a bunk and unpacks a few of his things, placing a pistol under his pillow. After he has arranged his belongings, he strips to his shorts and a t-shirt and goes to sleep.

Sam says to Jeff, "Hm. Too bad. It'sh shtrange dat he wouldn't tell you anyting about da shalvage exshpidition. Do you know why da captain needed volunteersh? Has da ship losht shome of itsh crew?"

Jeff shrugs in an offhand manner, giving the thumbs up to the fueling crew to knock off for the night.

"The Captain's the captain. There must be some reason for him to keep things quiet. And the reason for the volunteers is we just got back into port three days ago. The guys who're gone are on two week forlough. We weren't expecting to head back out for another month. At least that's when our next contract was. This is just something that came up spur of the moment."

Sam says to Jeff, "Dat's fair enough," He extends his large hand to shake with Jeff. "Glad to meet you, Jeff."

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Sam makes his way back to his room on the ship. Using a simple mental command, Sam switches on his thermal and lowlight retinal receptors to see clearly in the dark. On the way, he keeps his eyes open for anything that would seem unusual, given his experience as a security guard.

The vessel appears neat and well kept, the passageways clear of dirt and clutter, decks swept and painted. The crew moves about their tasks with swift, singular, almost military like intention. Nothing that you've seen strikes you in any way peculiar or unusual.

Having satisfied himself that things are 'secure' on the ship, Sam makes his way into the room where his rack is to call it a night. With his cyber augmentations on, he notices an ork sleeping in the other rack on the opposite wall. Seeing that the guy appears to be sound asleep, Sam tries not to make much noise, so as not to disturb the ork's slumber.

Kind of small for an ork isn't he? No need to turn on the lights with my eyes. I suppose cleaning my guns can wait until morning anyway.Sam thinks to himself. With that, Sam turns in to go to sleep. I bet that the morning watch will begin at 0600, so I'll get up earlier.

Sam sets his Jolt-Alert for activation when his retinal clock reads 0400. That should give me time to clean my guns.

He heads towards the doorway Jeff pointed out, eyes scanning the ship as he moved.

Way too familiar...

He glances into the room, eyebrows arching slightly as he catches sight of First's rather shapely conversation companion. He waits with a slight smile on his face until there's a lull in the conversation, and then coughs lightly.

"First? Jeff told me to come see you about one of those open bunks you have."

Meryth nodded and kept her features smoothed, maintained her nearly perfect poise, but for the slight widening of her eyes. Naval Control Network? She shook her head faintly, a motion that set the silky waves that fell just past her shoulderblades to rustle in a soft, almost soothing, caress. She knew what it was, of course, but had never had the hardware to do so; it was challenging enough doing what she did best without further complicating her body's balance by adding any sort of 'ware....

"No. I lack the necessary hardware to operate on such a network though I'm sure it must be quite an experience." The corners of her mouth turned up at this, but just a little, since she'd often imagined what it might be like to have such a relationship with a vessel like this one, to be able to access any given place at any given time, to know when she was hurt and what needed to be done in an instant, though not at the cost of harming her potential in other areas. "As for the rest of it, I thank you for your time, Mr. Soong, and since there is no need for my aid at this time, I will make myself available for this meeting to see what needs doing."

She took a step back and inclined her head, noting that he had not shaken her hand before and wasn't likely to do it this time either; she would not push a tired man, not when there were potentially weeks where they'd be required to deal with one another...no, it would not do to make a bad impression on the first day.

The moderately tall young woman turned slightly at the sound of a polite cough and arched an eyebrow at the man's intrusion although she did not turn the bulk of her attention from the dark haired first officer (and would not) until she was given leave to do so. Respect and diffidence had earned her much in the past and even if neither were returned, they were almost always noted with some level of appreciation.

First turns to the newcomer, dismissing Meryth with a curt nod. His eyes stray to her for a moment, though, before he addresses Schnell.

"Of course. I believe you're the last to come aboard. Is there a problem?"

Meryth nods as well and takes her leave of the bridge without another word, offering a nod and a last small smile to the first officer as well as a polite nod to the two other men she had yet to meet. She'd walk back to her stateroom slowly, nodding her approval as she noted how well trained the INTEPID's crew actually was, still considering how she'd best be able to contribute without making her primary skillset too noticable. She also kept her eyes open to the vessel's unique astral colouring, looking for variations in her presence as well as acclimating herself to the overall feel of the craft in case she'd have to use any of her magicks here.

After several minutes of travel (she was really taking her time), Meryth finally arrived at her room and glanced about it more appraisingly. It was standard, almost spacious compared to some of the staterooms she'd seen in the past, and even more important was the fact that it was clean. Being alone now she finally allowed herself to smile more broadly, a genuine thrill coursing through her veins as she realized that by the time she awoke it was more than likely she'd be reunited with her single greatest love but until then ... she eyed the bedding warily, remembering what had happened the last time she'd been on such a voyage. Gloved hands stripped the perfectly made bunk and carefully folded each piece of fabric, placing them under the bed where they would remain clean and untouched. Meryth then brought out her own linens (they'd taken a good deal of room in her duffel but at least she'd be able to sleep this trip) and painstakingly laid the Egyptian cotton upon her bed, careful to cover everything bare skin might touch with the luxurious snowy fabric she'd obtained at an extraordinarily high price.

Nodding in satisfaction as she looked over the room once more, she would sit cross-legged upon the freshly made bed, close her eyes, and work again at the meditions that Mirande had taught her so long ago. Her breathing slowed drastically as did her heart rate as she once again found her center. For almost an hour she'd sit this way, a soft 'hum' sounding from her throat even as the smallest trace of a smile graced her sweetly curved features.

"I said evac now!" The cold mechanical voice replied over the radio, "Negative delta one-four Current area is too hotel for echo." Rounds impacted around the ork. Mud and dirt flying from the high velocity lead. Downtown dove over the big rock he was using for protection. His right hand gripped his Manhunter so tight his palm was bone white. PFFT! PFFT! The silenced weapon blew it's breath of death. 40 meters away a soldier fell grasping his chest. More automatic fire stitched it's line across the rocks. Splinters flew through the air drawing bloody lines across Daniels face. Slapping his gun back into its holster, Daniel un-slung his walther. "You guys want to play hard, let’s play hard."

The riffle barked twice and two heads exploded. The answer was more staccato gunfire. "Yeah you like that!" Danny yelled out to the answering spray. A deafening rumble rolled over the field like thunder. The massive whup-whup of a Sea Stallions rotors washed out the sound of Gunfire. A smile creased Daniels face as the helicopter descended toward him. The massive armored bird turned sideways, the door opened and a soldier mounting a vindicator mini-gun gave him the "thumbs up" before opening fire. Mowing down enemy soldiers like so many weeds before a weed whacker.

Later that same day Daniel sat in the chow hall of the USS ENTERPRISE CV 104 "That was a close one guys, I thought my goose was cooked....

Daniel awoke. For a split second his mind told him he was still on active duty. Still working for his country, doing the one thing he had always loved. Then the pungent odor of his roommate assaulted his nose and the truth of his reality came crashing down. The pain in his heart was like a knife that wouldn't go away.

Danny sat up, his pupils dilating to allow him to see better in the dim cabin. He could here the sounds of the crew on deck working, the engines running, the water slapping against the steel hull. Then a peculiar sent caught his attention. A scent like a flower caught in the wind. He dressed in his PT uniform quickly, slapped on his running shoes and hit the deck. He did his best to run the deck, avoiding the crew when possible and trying his best to pinpoint the smell. He discovered the scent leading below decks and decided not to peruse it, he would find her sooner or later, it had to be a her, no man would where that scent.

20 minutes later he hit the head, and then back to his room to switch to his BDU's. He looked at his weapons, not sure if he should be carrying them. "We are at sea, so we will probably have plenty of warning if things go down," Danny left his firearms stowed in his cabin. His bayonet tucked securely in its waist holster he headed to the bow. Always his favorite place on a ship, Danny enjoyed the wind and the splash of the spray and watched the sun rise over the distant Cascade Mountains.

Not surprisingly, Sam is having another very active dream. It's the same every night. Flashbacks from the arcology keeping him on edge as he tries to sleep.

Sam is standing in a security computer room, leaning against the wall by an air vent, wearing his issued light security armor, max gyro, and his Ingram Valiant, the APDS belt slung over his torso, with a rather motley crew of people who, like himself just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time when the exit doors were all locked down tight.

While the group iss making plans for and discussing which location in the arcology to try and reach next, their conversation is interrupted. Small drones have surrounded them, moving ever so quietly while being guided by someone.

Chaos erupts. A drone with an injector lunges at Sam from the air vent, and he smashes it against the wall. An elf standing near by him whips out a pistol and picks off two of them. The woman across the room takes out another. Everyone begins running and screaming. Everyone has to get out of that room! Follow the leader! GO!!

The human next to the door flings it open, and everyone runs out after him, with the drones crawling after them. More drones! Bigger ones! Sam turns one of a pair of dog-sized walkers into scrap with a full auto burst from his Ingram Valiant. The heavily cybered ork beside him turns invisible and slices the other in half with a clawed foot. Then everyone is running; trying to escape; following the leader...

Sam wakes suddenly in a cold sweat, beathing heavily. In a split-second, he activates all of his hearing and vision modifications and brings his wired reflexes up to full. Grabbing the assault rifle tucked under his coat, Sam sweeps the room with the crosshairs of his smartlink, making sure it's safe.

Seeing that the room is empty, he sits up and puts his legs over the edge of the rack onto the floor. Sam lets out a sigh, "Damned dronesh," and runs his other hand over his head. "Guessh I won't be getting any more shleep tonight..." He gets up and turns on the light, switching off his preset jolt-alert at the same time.

Since Sam doesn't feel like sleeping any more, he pulls his duffel bag out from under his rack and removes the components of a disassembled Ingram Valiant. He immediately gets to work cleaning and oiling his guns. He sits down in the middle of the room with his Ingram Valiant pieces and the pistol, assault rifle, and heavy weapons kits beside him.

He first cleans and oils the Ingram Valiant. Taking the long brush of the heavy weapons kit, he cleans powder residue from the barrel and chamber. He uses the cleaning solution to cleanse the moving parts of the firing system, breach, and belt feeder. Then, he oils those respective parts and also the hammer and trigger. Sam then reassembles the Ingram Valiant. He shoves a 50-round clip of lead slugs into the magazine and chambers the first round. Sam then jacks the cable of the external smartlink to one of the ports at the base of his skull to check the batteries of the mechanism and insure that it is functioning. Seeing that it is, Sam checks the ammo LED display, making sure that it reads '50'. Having serviced the LMG that had served him so well in the Renraku Arcology, Sam set it on the deck next to him, though he leaves the optical cable to the smartlink jacked, allowing the crosshairs to disappear as the limited simsense rig detects that the gun is no longer in his hand. 'Can't ever be too careful', Sam thinks to himself.

Next, Sam autoejects the clip from his Ares Alpha and catches the round as he sends the mental command to pull the chamber back and eject it. He reloads the round into its cartridge and sets it aside. He opens up the magazine on the grenade launcher and removes all eight of the HE offensive minigrenades carefully, placing each one in a row, standing on its base, on the lid of the heavy weapons kit, in front of him. Taking out his assault rifle kit, Sam services the mechanical parts of the rifle and the attached grenade launcher in the same manner as the Ingram Valiant. He reassembles the Ares Alpha and grenade launcher, using the tools included in the kits, and puts the kits away. Sam picks up the rifle and carefully reloads the 8 minigrenades into the internal magazine of the grenade launcher. Holding the grip of the gun, Sam reinserts the clip and autochambers the first round, watching as the ammo LED changes from '0/8' to '42/8'. He sets the assault rifle down on the floor, next to his Ingram Valiant.

Sam takes his Ares predator III from its quickdraw concealable holster and autoejects the clip. He mentally pulls back the chamber and catches the round that pops out. Sam gingerly reloads the round into the small clip and sets it on the floor. He takes out his pistol kit and carefully services the pistol with the small tools provided in the kit, having to use his pinky and thumb at times to hold some of the smaller tools. After servicing the pistol, Sam reassembles it and puts the pistol kit away. He reinserts the clip into the magazine of the gun and watches the LED change to '15' as he autochambers the first round. He tests the crosshairs and then autoengages the safety before putting the gun back into its holster.

Sam puts the kits back into his duffel bag and stands up. He puts the assault rifle back onto its strap on his shoulder and autoengages the safety for the rifle and grenade launcher before letting it hang freely in its usual spot. Sam zips up his duffel bag and slings it across his back, the belts of extra ammo for the Ingram Valiant jingling against one another as he does so. Sam picks up the Ingram Valiant, mentally engages the safety, and leans it against his shoulder as he emerges from the doorway after carefully exiting the cabin. Sam decides to walk around the ship and watch the sun cast its rays over the deck and the four horizons as night ends. Since it is still a while until sunrise, Sam decides to explore a little.

The door to the stateroom bangs open forcefully, held against its stop by the left hand of the figure standing in the passageway. Her right hovers close to the weapon holstered on her hip. The woman is tall and muscular, the slate gray jumpsuit she wears tight around her biceps and thighs. A black tac vest hangs off her shoulders, weighted with grenades and ammunition. Her blonde hair is pulled back severely into a tight braid. A laser thin scar tracks up the right hand side of her face, pulling her lips into something of a sneer. Her eyes are cold and vicious as they come to rest on Meryth.

"So you're the one. When Jeff told me that we'd had a woman come on board to fill Amy's spot I was prepared for the worst. Obviously I seriously underestimated the situation. I don't suppose there's any way I can persuade you to miss this boat?" Her tone leaves nothing to the imagination as to the nature of her threat. Her right hand, covered by the tattoo of a dragon's claw in a brilliant indigo hue, catches the light as it toys with the butt of her gun. A slim figure pushes past the woman.

"Oh give it a fraggin' rest, Dune. You know we need the manpower. So what if she's a sweatmeat? You've got your hookup." The newcomer flashes Meryth an apologetic smile before heading to the tiny stainless steel sink. She carries with her the odor of diesel fuel and heavyweight lubricant. Slipping out of her grease-stained coveralls, she opens a chemwipe and begins the lengthy process of towelling off.

"I'm Carmen. The slitch at the door is Dune. Welcome aboard. Now both of you, shut the hell up so I can get some sleep."

Devoid of her coating of grease and oil, Carmen reveals herself to be a petite Hispanic woman of an indeterminate young age. With hardly a second thought to either the open door or her two roommates, she sheds the rest of her clothes and disappears into her rack. Moments later a hand reappears and gestures rudely at Dune.

"If you're just going to stand there, make yourself useful and kill the lights."

Dune glances down the hallway, debating whether or not she wants to push this confrontation further. A decision is finally reached, and she slams her hand down on the light switch, plunging the room into darkness. Pivoting on the heel of one steel-toed boot, she stalks down the passageway, the stateroom door closing softly behind her.

0600

The sun is just rising above the horizon when Dune reaches the bridge, streaks of gray reaching above the city's skyline. The Captain watches silently out the forward bridge windows as the Officer of the Deck gets the ship underway. The INTREPID's maneuverability allows her to pull away without the assistance of any tugs, her forward thrusters pushing the bow away from the pier. With steady assurance, the helmsman throttles up the twin marine diesels, water boiling in the ship's wake. Once clear of the breakwater, she surges forward, the open ocean beckoning.

He lets his eyes briefly track the slim figure as she strolled past him, the slightest hint of a smile touching at the corners of his mouth.

"Name's Det. One of the last that signed on for this particular trip, from what I hear. A bit of military experience on larger ships like this, but most of it was spent piloting smaller boats. However, I do have the experience and the hardware," he taps the side of his neck lightly, " to use the NavConNet you mentioned.

Jeff brought me up because I'd wanted to discuss the possibility of bringing my own boat along. Dock security isn't quite what it used to be. But the more I consider it, the more the logistics suck, so with your permission, I'll make a call and have someone berth it after I grab my gear."

A slight pause, "Sir." The comment is an afterthought, it's lateness not a sign of disrespect, but merely the delay involved when an action is no longer instinct.

His summary is brief, concise, and covers everything he considers relevant.

Funny how quickly you slip into old habits...

Not really surprised at the intrusion since she'd heard heavy stomping down the corridor long moments before, Meryth arched a slender ebon eyebrow at the arrogant creature that had so arrogantly interrupted her peace but otherwise held her silence, and the woman's stare, with calmly dark eyes and her own version of an arrogant smile, just a small thing really, but nearly as potent as the amazingly toned female that threatened her with her very first breath.

She nearly laughed with delight when the smaller woman Carmen arrived and put the massive woman Dune in her place, offering the barest of grins to the Hispanic girl as their eyes met as well as a respectful nod. It wasn't her place to speak just yet anyway, not until she had a place in the crew (though preferably not as a 'sweetmeat' if it could be helped,.. she'd cast herself overboard before that happened) and perhaps proved her worth a couple of times. Her humming stopped, as did her meditations once the light went out, and she shucked her clothing almost as quickly as Carmen, slipped within her bedding, checked the alarm function of her digital watch, and drifted off to sleep almost immediately.

The movement of the ship getting under weigh shocks Ichiro out of his slumber. His hand streaks for the pistol under his pillow and his lips are already through the first half of a spell before he realizes nothing is wrong. Now calm, he gets out of his bunk and stands, streching in the middle of the small room. He looks around to see if his room mate ever showed up.

Hearing movement, Os' quickly awakens, quietly gripping a knife hidden in amoungst the folded blanket he was using as a pillow. A quick scan with thermographics and another with lowlight clues him into his roomate's presence, and recognising the koborokuru's actions as those of a man who had just recently awakened, Os dismissed any notions that Ichiro meant him harm.

Releasing his grip on the weapon, he whispered, "Hey, mate, have you got the time?"