The Vault of Stone - Printable Version

With a dainty movement, the Dr. Martinez put down her glass of steaming tea onto the greasy surface of the table. The cafe she had sought refuge in to kill the time was not the most noble restaurant she had ever visited, but it was alright. They had tea, although the water they had used was not filtered and the tea was not fresh. She was supposed to be meeting a man named Finn McCool here, on Freeport 11. Well, not here per se. Their meeting was still a while in the future, though the Doctor had arrived before that time, mindful to not arrive too late and thus make a bad impression. She was more than certain that she would be accompanying a set of henchmen onto the Ingenuus, which she had seen moored with the Freeport upon arrival. A pristine, almost eerily perfect ship. She wondered just how much maintenance it required to keep it this clean all the time. Maybe the hull was polarized. It would repell dirt this way. However, it might cause problems in the vicinity of jump holes or Baxter objects. Maybe if...

Thoughts like these kept he company while she stared into the slightly swirling liquid in front of her. She had come alone, thus there was nobody to keep her from zoning out. The reverie found its end when the PAD, which she was only carrying due to the necessity of communicating with the men of McCool, gave a soft tone. Opening the message, she submitted her location and waited. The tea had long since stopped steaming, nearly untouched as two men rounded the corner to the small booth the Doctor had sat down in. Exchanging vacuous pleasantries, the Doctor found herself being escorted to one of the mooring fixtures of the Freeport, already having forgotten what they had talked about. She remained quiet as they entered the Ingenuus and remained still while they traversed empty corridors, with only the steady rhythm of their steps following them.

Different people might have spoken up simply to do something against the silence, but the Doctor did not mind. It wasn't likely that these two were able to hold a conversation that would entertain her anyways. The thought made her wonder about her colleague, Dr. Wight, who was now in charge of watching over Contessa for the foreseeable future. It irked the Doctor that she hadn't been able to finish the Formula necessary to make Contessa a functioning human being, but the offer from McCool had been something that she was simply unwilling to pass off for Contessa. The girl was immortal. There was no harm in her waiting a month longer, or even two.

Blinking, it took her a few moments to understand that their little procession had come to a halt in front of a door that didn't rightly seem different from any others they had passed. Come to think of it, the ship was quiet. She had expected the crew to be efficient and professional, but a certain amount of noise seemed unavoidable on a vessel, or so she thought. Even now, only ghastly silence greeted her ears as she listened. Conscious that she would be meeting McCool just behind this door, the Doctor used a hand to straighten a crease in her blouse. White. She liked the color. It looked clean and went well with her skin tone. Letting her arm drop, she felt the weight of the PAD on the inside of her blouse, as well as the small laser pistol strapped to her torso. It was easy to forget. She had never used a gun, but Adrian had insisted she carry it with her at all times while alone in the Omicrons.

Shaking her head, the Doctor pressed the button by the side of the door, which acted akin to a door bell, signalling the party on the other side that she entreated entry, and the door slid open.