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+--- Thread: Shall not be infringed (/showthread.php?tid=138375)
Shall not be infringed - Petitioner - 04-21-2016
The low drone of the massive conveyor belts groaned on in the background, punctuated at regular intervals by the quick clicking of the presses. Even with the half-meter-thick steel polymer walls around the production line - the second-thickest of any civilian installation in Liberty - the noise was ever-present, unless one wore the protective ear-mufflers that were mandatory for all employees. Proprietary Ageira tech, of course. The thought of the apparent silliness of proprietary headgear is what was on Kay's mind for a fleeting few moments, before the plasteel rectangle she'd only just jammed into those greasy, baggy pants of hers vibrated gently.
With a sigh, she reached her hand back into the oversized pocket and pulled it out. Once the device was satisfied via a quick retinal scan, a small smile crept onto her lips. All loaded up. These Detroit boys worked fast. Satisfied with the brevity of the wait, the small, ruddy Bretonian woman stepped across the corridor and punched the fat button set into the wall, its anti-grease coating half worn away thanks to hundreds of thousands of presses by hands far bigger, far more muscular, far filthier than her own. Kay swiftly stepped into the oversized elevator as soon as its massive doors opened, with the casually impatient manners that characterized all of her movements whenever money was involved.
"Aye, thanks for the good work, Jack," were the words slipped casually out of the side of her mouth as she lit a fat Libertonian cigar, finally in a section of the station where open flames could be safely tolerated. "Listen, I'd love to stay an' chat, mate, but you know how it is. Hit me up when your shift's over and we'll talk drinks, yeah?"
"Oh yah, sure. You keep your head down out there, aye?"
"Hey, you don't need to tell me twice." A mischievious grin from the both of them, and a quick handshake to seal the deal.
RE: Shall not be infringed - Petitioner - 04-23-2016
Kay's head was almost empty as she slipped into the routine of unmooring the Bumblebee from Detroit. The ship pulled away slowly once the transfer arm had disconnected from the small opening at the side of the hull, and, once it was a safe distance away, she flicked the autopilot on. As the small transport's battered Kusarian engines hurtled it towards the Colorado jump hole, Kay sighed in relief to herself.
Once again, the LPI were nowhere to be found. Probably sticking to the lanes like usual, the lazy bastards.
Not a single pip on the radar until she hit the Kepler gate - nothing but a junker. Nothing to worry about. This was going to be a smooth run.