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Foyle Shipyard 12-8-825 - Blodwyn O'Driscoll - 12-08-2018
The woman submitted to scans and controls that the black armored guards were performing. Arms stretched, she waited for thoses controls to end, laying her gaze on the many guards proceeding to scan various crates still lying around the docking bay, on the fighters moored on the electromagnetic clamps.
She couldn't help emitting a groan when one the guards started to search through her personal bag.
Dhat's teh standard procedure, Ma'am . Declared the sergeant.
The red-head didn't even answer, and just waited for it to end, embarrassed to let the guard going through her most personal and intimate belongings.
But as the sergeant said before, this was standard, and she knew it. For the safety of all of them, Mollys, for the safety of one of the most valued facility they owned.
Everytin's in order, Ma'am, ye's free tae go . Stated the sergeant, after the guards scans and searches were over and that they nodded at him to indicate it was all clear.
Tank ye lads un' lasses. Un' tank ye fer ye commitment. Slán agaibh !
Slàn leat !
After she left the docking bay, Blodwyn proceed to head to changing room, her helmet under the arm. There, she retrieved an electromagnetic key from the automated dispenser. Thoses were for the non-resident who needed a locker to store their belongings.
The woman sat on one of the benches between the two row of lockers facing each other .She could hear the sound of the water flowing, from the communal showers, in the next room.Once she took off her spacesuit, Blod' hanged it in the locker, where she stored her helmet too.
After she entered the next room, the redhead walked along the row of doors and picked a free shower stall.
She pulled out a small toilet kit from her handbag, a pile of folded clothes, a pair of sandals, and a small towel from it and proceed to take off her clothes, puting them one by one on the hanger, along with her handbag.
Stepping under the shower, she did let the warm water running on her hair, face, and her body.
Closing her eyes, she thought to herself :
Maybe oy should have brought fancier clothes tae wear. Oy dunno. Oy dun tin' he be a man tae care 'bout such tins'. At least, let's hope so.
Blod' quickly washed the soap off her body, turned off the water, dryed her body with the towel; groaned complaining to herself for bringing such a small one and for forgetting a hair-dryer. and finally wringed out her hair.
She tried to wrap her hair in the towel, but failed and groaned again, slipped some underwears and the simple ecru dress she did bring, on; and stepped out of the shower stall, hanged her uniform in the locker and store here too the heavy poilot boots.
Facing the mirror above the sinks, she whispered :
A poile o' gol' fer a hair-droyer.
The woman bursted out of laughing, as it was absurd in so many ways. But the one that crossed her mind was quite basic : even gold on Arranmore was cheaper than food. She even remember, that, when she was but a girl, it was not uncommon to find toilet bowls made out of gold, as it was way cheaper than any regular metal.
Combing her hair, she thought to herself :
Oy guess gotta let'em droy boye demsel'.
Finally, she decided to braid her her, for more confort.
After she did put on the gold earring, simple necklace and ankle bracelet, reajusting them several time, the woman left to search for a pub.
The woman spent an hour or two at the pub, talking about various matters with the locals here, exchanging news and gossips alike while drinking a few pints.
Once her hair dried enough for, she proceeded to the toilets to unleash her hair, combed them again, reajusted her clothing and went back to the bar room.
Finishing her last drink, she enquired where she could find McKenny.
As the lads indicated her, he could found either in the warehouses, or on the assembly lines. Strolling through the station, she took the opportunity to revew the messages of the chief security, warehouses chief , transmitted to her about what had recently be going on aboard Foyle.
The assembly lines were bustling with activity, workers on ramps, shower of sparks from the welding torch, forklift trucks carrying huge crates, massives cranes lifting massives chunks of hull panels...The sounds were deafening. This is were the mighty Scyllas were assembled before brought to the drydocks outside.
The woman was given a safety helmet and noise-canceling headphones by the foreman. She put them on reluctantly, as she just had combed her hair anew, not so long ago.
Blodwyn strode across the assembly lines with a rolling gait, clad in her ecru high waisted dress and white simple sandals, her gold necklace, earrings and ankle bracelet, swinging to the rythm of her pace, as her long hair stcking out of the helmet waved to the pace.
RE: Foyle Shipyard 12-8-825 - Smokey. - 12-08-2018
Mister Mckenny Sir, she's eya.. Miss O'Driscol jus landed
McKenney lifted his head from underneath the plasma cutting machine he was repairing, he'd been waiting for this day for months.. McKenney responded;
Good, ye go foind 'er now an ye show tha good lady te me office, eh
McKenney grabbed a rag that was hanging on the side of the machine and started to wipe his hands clean of the oil
Start 'er up Kelly me man, He says to the machine operator at the control panel
The operator boots up the plasma cutter and the machine bursts to life. Mckenney gives a wink to the operator and then turns to walk off
She should be alright now fella He says as he walks away, discarding of the rag in a bin, clearly pleased with his skills as an engineer
McKenney walks along the production line, visually assessing each stage as he does. Nods from the workers as he moves through the factory shows he's a well known man. Mckenney gets to the end of the fabrication line and makes his way into a small room, the room is a make-shift office.. boxes of ship parts and old uniforms lay strewn around the edges, a crudely constructed table made of old crates and what looks like a door sits in the centre of the room with a chair on either side. Mckenney sits in the chair facing the door, pondering while awaiting the arrival of his guest.. He'd been waiting for this day since going public with the [MLA],making choices for the good of the Molly without involving, or even consulting, the Republic outside of Foyle.. But McKenney, like most Molly men, was a man of action and he was ready for any questions. Still.. there was an air of cautiousness in his confidence.. the lady was known for the fire in her Dublin heart and McKenney knew this wasn't going to be a walk in the park
RE: Foyle Shipyard 12-8-825 - Blodwyn O'Driscoll - 12-15-2018
As she was asking around for McKenney, headphones pulled off on her neck, the red headed woman was approached by a man.
Miss O'Driscoll, Mister Mckenney 's waitin' fer ye.
Roight, foine, so where can oy foind him ?
Dhat way, miss. He answered, pointing a finger at the make-shift office in a corner of the assembly line.
Tank ye, Ser O'Broyan. Gents, slán agaibh The man seemed a bit surprised that she'd remember his name, but simpled shrugged in the end, for the Mollys were a small community, and it was not uncommon to know or, at least to have seen or met, anyone living on a station, at some point in someone's life. It could be compared to living in a cluster of small villages.
After she took her leave, Blodwyn proceeded toward the office, knocked at the door and entered the room.
RE: Foyle Shipyard 12-8-825 - Smokey. - 12-15-2018
As the lady walked through the doorway Mckenneys view of her was slightly silhouetted, the brighter lights of the factory behind her exaggerated her red hair, reminiscent of the Dublin sky mused McKenney in his head.. Though small in figure the womans stance was one of authority and confidence, impressive traits to the battle hardened man. Mckenney stands up from his chair to address her..
Dia duit Miss, an oi hope tha' ye floight out here was withou' bother he says as he signals her to the seat opposite
Taking a seat Mckenny leans forward in his chair to pull himself closer to the table, and then back again into a relaxed position So oi assume wha' with averythin goin off roight now ye be wantin te get straight te some business
RE: Foyle Shipyard 12-8-825 - Blodwyn O'Driscoll - 12-16-2018
The woman had just the time to close the door behing her, before she was greeted now standing up in front of her. Taking off the safety helmet, she shook her head unleashing her fiery hairs. Only then, she took the time to answer him.
Dia is Mhuire agus Pádraig duit, Ser McKenney.
Quoite a noisy place, oy mussay... maybe nae as much as deh deck o' an ol' Hege', but still.
The redhead took a brief look around the room, before being invited to take a seat in front of him. The woman complied, taking the opportunity to put down the helmet, the headphones after she wore them off her neck and finally her handbag, laying all of them down at her feet.
While doing so, and still leaning forward, she carried on :
D'floight was foine, tank ye fer enquirin'. Nae 'Sars o' Brets tae be soighted, so... Un' Derry be jus' a flew clicks frem Arry. Pretty safe.
Blodwyn sat up straight on the chair to face him again, apparently feeling at ease with either the place or the situation, if not both. Nonchalantly, she resumed the conversation.
M'well, oif ye wanna go straight tae business... But oy thought...M'well, oy brought a couple o' bottles o' Whiskey, un' sandwiches oy made oif we get hungry durin' deh talks. But maybe ye's alreaday hungry...Are ye hungry ?
Before he could answer, she was again leaning forward to search through her bag. She took the bottles one by one from the bag, and then put one after the other on the crudely constructed table, followed by two thick sandwiches. The woman carried on as she was proceeding.
The lass on the market told me deh turkey meat be frem a Bret shipment intercepted earlier in deh morning...oy guess it won't be missed. She added with a smirk on her face, as she sat up straight again.
O' nay...
Facing him, her smirk disappeared from her face, only to be replaced by embarrassment.
Oy fear oy forgot deh glasses...Oy's such a terrible guest, forgive mae.
RE: Foyle Shipyard 12-8-825 - Smokey - 12-17-2018
Nae bother McKenney says as he rises from his chair, moving toward the corner of the room to one of the many stacks of boxes.Sure we've some in 'ere somewhere he says as he begins rummaging through the abundance of dust covered cases
Ah, there we go now, McKenney pulls two crystal glasses from a box, blows off the dust and seats himself back at the table. Always time fe a drink, eh he quips as he begins to pour the whiskey from the ladys bottle into the glasses, one for him, one for his guest
McKenney lifts his glass towards the lady, te good 'ealth he says, he then gently sips from the glass. As with many Mollys McKenney is a big fan of Whiskey and lets out a slight 'Ahhh' in relief as he finishes his first taste a mighty foine drink tha' Miss
Relaxing back in his chair again McKenney puts one of the sandwiches to the side, Aye, thank'ye he says, Oi shall eat tha' soon, 'ardley any toime fe luxurys such as good food 'ere at tha moment, wha' with all these works appenin an tha extra efforts bein put in after loosin Belfast McKenney appears saddened as he mentions the fallen station, Lost some good Molly men an women there, eh
recomposing himself McKenney leans forward towards his guest, takes another sip of his whiskey and then continues..So oi assume ye wann'e talk 'bout wha' exactly we've been up te here on Foyle o'er the past couple months an wha' not.
RE: Foyle Shipyard 12-8-825 - Blodwyn O'Driscoll - 12-22-2018
The woman took the glass and inspected it for a second or two . Dhat mus' be luxury.She added, nodding with a meaningfull glance.
Finally, she raised the glass toward him, suddenly looking gloomy.
Sláinte Mhaith ! Un' tae doses who fell in Belfast field.
Blodwyn drank it in one go, and paused again before carrying on.
Deh desterds will pay fer it, wun way o' anodher, dat's fer shure.
Saying so, she slammed the glass on the table, before pouring herself another drink with a shaky hand. Visibly letting a not-so contained anger replacing her previous gloomy mood.
Alike she was dismissing something with a gesture of the hand, she added : Forgive mae... Tis jus' 'em Gauls, Brets, all o' em, dey be pissin' mae off...
M'well, oif ye dun moind.
The red-head woman said, as she proceed to get her comm' from bag before clicking on it and finally putting it on the table.
Grabbing her galss again, she carried on :
Aye, speak... please do tell mae what ye've doin' on Foyle...
And... as the woman sipped from a her glass, with another gesture of the hand she indicated him that he might have the floor.
RE: Foyle Shipyard 12-8-825 - Smokey - 12-22-2018
Unerstandable, Miss McKenney replies with an empathetic tone. An now Brets in Gran Canaria, but tha's a matter fe another talk, eh
Mckenney gets out of his chair, glass of whiskey in hand.. walking to the window he gazes out into the Derry system.. Derry had been his home since he was 14, it was a system he knew well, he looked back at the lady still sitting at the table and began.. Oi know ye must be somewhat dismayed roight now, wha' with tha 'Republics' plans te protect Belfast 'avin gone so badly, he says, not sarcastically or in any belitiling way, the man had afterall lost good friends that fateful day. or not so considerin as oi understan it, 'twas meant te be a 'leave nothin fe nobody' koind o' back up plan should it all go wrong? McKenney takes a sip of his whiskey and continues, Tha MLA were involved quite tightly in tha logistics o' tha project at tha toime, if ye remember, bringin in goods from all o'er Sirius te bolster tha station. McKenney pauses for a moment, sips once again from his now nearly empty glass, and continues.. The Republic 'ave a reputation fe these failed tactics Miss, an oi ask ye.. 'ow much more can tha Molly afford te loose?. McKenney looks long and hard at the woman, trying to judge her character.. Mckenney prided himself on his ability to understand other people just by the reactions on their faces as he spoke, he continued.. assuming the woman had thought he'd gone off topic slightly Anyway, not wha' we're here te discuss again.. McKenney walks back to the table and draws a datapad from his pocket, showing her the plans for the Foyle Upgrades.
Moving back towards his side of the table Mckenney picks up the bottle of whiskey, filling his glass then offering to the lady.. top-up Miss?
RE: Foyle Shipyard 12-8-825 - Blodwyn O'Driscoll - 12-24-2018
The woman held her glass to him so he could pour her another drink
Aye aye, top up, lad.
Ain't dhat bad tae be served...fer once.
Blodwyn took back her glass once filled and started sipping from it anew. After being thoughfull for a moment, she started again :
Oy cannae believe ye would give up so easely. Dhis be war She said, emphasing on the word Un' it has been so, fer deh last seventy-three years, since deh Republic was created. Since we became who we be.
Un' in war, dere ain't allus victories, but drawbacks un' defeats aswell. But remember wun ting :
We've been foightin' vastly superiors foes, in numbers o' assets : 'Sars, Houses, Brets, Koosarians, un' naow Gauls, aloike. Un' we's still dere.
So remember wun ting :
We Mollys be warriors...
Nae 'cause we allus win.
But 'cause we will allus foight !!!
The redhead paused for a while, just enough to let her rising internal fire to calm down.
So, anyway, where were we ?
Aye, Foyle, so lemme have a look at yer datas...
RE: Foyle Shipyard 12-8-825 - Blodwyn O'Driscoll - 01-10-2019
The redhead looked the datapad on the table and searched through her bag for some other devices. Pulling an earbud and some jack plug out of it, she sized McKenney's datapad, and looked at him in an inquiring way.
May oy ?
Before he could answer, the woman started to nonchalantly plug the datapad to her own comm' devices lying on the table, and then, proceeded to put on the earbud as she was meticulously trying not to let it get caught in her gold earring.
She remained silent for a while,focused on her communicator as the program was enlightning every word and sentences printed was displayed on the screens of her golden comm', and directly read in her earbud.
Once it was all done and that she had considered every aspect of the Foyle me once Project, she spoke anew, adopting a more warm and befriending tone :
Well, it ain't a bad idea ad'all. After all, we moight need more producing powe', provoided , o' course, dhat we have deh poilots un' crew tae operate new shippies. But widh deh incomin' war, we'd bedder have more o' doses, den nae 'nough.
Oy's pretty shure we'll foind an agreement on dhis.
Oy also noticed some sort o' moinor moistakes...
Fer example, oif Foyle be certainly nae on par widh house shipyards, we cannae say tis wun o' deh worst.It can be compared widh many non-house shipyard aout dere.
When it comes tae reloy only on external powe', in fear dhat Bretonia, o' Sars would discover what would be goin' on...Well, it o' course pays tae be carefull. Dhat's fer shure !
Fer 'Sars, deh Fes fleet has been defeated in Fourty-noine. Un' oy can hardly see how dey could attack Foyle, boye naow. We could only suffer frem small raiding parties on aour transports. Dey nae longer have any koind o' space superiority in deh area, compared tae oos.
Brets be so englued in deh defense o' New London, un' deir suicidal attempt tae take root in O-fourty-noine, dhat dey dun have nor deh toime, nae means, nae deh will tae focuse on what we be doin' ...
Un' boye deh way, oif we wanna talk 'bout what's happening in O-49, oy'll be glad tae...
On deh contrary, reloyin' on externals powe', would raise suspicion. For encounterin' people dhat ain't used tae be seen in dhis part o' Sirius would enivitably raises questions.
So oy dun ting dhat would be a way o' working on dhis project.
Lastly, oy wondered oif ye e'er tink dhat reloyin' on external forces would be deh best way tae let deh 'Sars o' Bretonia, o' anywun else, tae hear 'bout dhat project ? Let alone revealin' deh exact location o' Foyle Shipyard.
Un' dhat be exactly whoy we, deh prople o' Dublin un' Derry, deh Mollys, did set a handfull o' Law, about deh access tae Derry un' especially tae Foyle, whoile we's speakin' 'bout dhat madder. Fer dere's so many sensible station 'ere dhat we cannae put at risk.
Oy mus' admit dhat oy's a boit amazed, dhat ye eidher ignored doses o' simply decoided tae boypass'em. Eidher way it could be a breach tae aour security.
The woman paused again. Her tone had slowly shifted from friendly to maybe something that could be called motherly.
Well, dhat takes oos tae deh next point.
Oy's, sorry, McKenney, but oy have tae question yer behavior... Oi it wasnae a madder o' state, oy wouldnae have tae.
How tae start ?
M'well, whoy nae doses tings we talked 'bout earlier. Fer exemple, deh restrections 'bout Derry access. Oif it's due tae lack o' knowledged, den tis a mistake. A mistake that can put oos at risk, e'erywun o' oos. But oif ye did it on purpose...Well, dhat be anodher level o' issues.
As it would mean, as oy unnestand it, dhat ye dun care what aour people decoided. Dhat ye dun care 'bout what dey decoided fer deh common good.
Oy do unnestand deh urge fer aour koind tae be free.Oy mean as individuals.Un' oy's wun o' its devout defender : as oy believe dhat e'ery last wun o' oos shall decoide fer her o' himsel'. But dhat doesn't mean dhat wun should decoide fer all o' oos, against deh will o' deh odhers. O' fer what's commonly owned boye all o' oos.
Oy heard dhat dere were a langage frem ancient Terra, tae descroibe dhat : Res Publica. It means, deh common ting. Dhat be what's aour Republic. Deh ting dhat belongs tae all o' oos.
Un' 'ere deh ting : ye decoide alone what should be done tae aour shipyard, alone, setting asoide deh people's decision. we, deh people o'Dublin un' Derry, were nae consulted boye referundum, nor we were informed o' dhis project. Let alone deh political o' administrative body.
E'en oif oy do unnestand dhat ye got some sort o' personal distrust fer it.
So as oy was sayin', dhis shipyard be aour common ting, deh people's ting. We did put alot o' effort, un' funds tae make it real. Un' naow ye's jus' stepping it, as it was just yours.
Do ye unnestand deh issue o' dispossessin' aour koind frem it, o' frem deh decision 'bout it ?
Tis a boit o' a leitmotiv, in yer behaviour.
Let's take anodher exemple. Oy heard 'bout an attempt tae oust Sadhbh dhat failed. Dunno oif tis true o' nae. But oif it be. Dhat was just a coup, an attempt tae remove wun o' aour democratically elected representative. Someone aour koind did choose.
Ye do unnestand dhat it be really worrying fer e'ery Mollys teh live unner deh threat o' anodher coup dhat would woipe aour doirect democracy fer anodher dictatorshoite... Nae loike we've seen 'nough o' it widh Bret wun o' deh 'Sar empoire.
Naow, tis much less 'bout behaviour but more 'bout deh purpose o' all o' dhis.
Fer it ain't loike it ain't impossible tae work fer deh common good in aour current system, nor tis impossible tae change it frem widhin.
Ye could have asked fer a vote tae revoke Sadhbh mandate, you could have run yersel' fer a councillor mandate, o' sumtin', oy dunno.
But ye prefered tae take arms against wun o' aour koind ?
Dhat oy cannae unnestand.
Is it 'bout a personal feud widh her ?
Is it 'bout ego, o' seizin' deh powe' fer yersel' ?
Is it 'bout an idea dhat Militaries should rule deh Republic instea' o' deh People ?
Oy dunno, ye tell oos !
Dhoses questions be quoite important fer all o' oos, oif nae essentials, e'en oif off topic. But answers be needed.
Naow 'bout Foyle, as oy said afore, oy's pretty shure we can foind an unnestandin'.
Blodwyn laid back on her chair and took a sip from her drink, as she was awaiting for him to speak. Even if it could be felt that the sudject she has brought to the table has tensed her a bit, or rather lighten up her passion, she kept her benevolent and compassionate tone. After all, McKenney was one of her kind ...