A low clang roused Vixen from her sleep in the modest core of the Salvage Frigate. Over the low hum of engines, the sound seemed to run from one end of the vessel to the other. Pulling herself from the lounge where she had dozed off, thoughts heavy with implication and unanswerable questions, she stepped through the ship on the way to the bridge.
The Novus Domus, a salvage frigate that had been put together under her own instruction, with the help of Eva, Rick and Bret, consisted of two sections. Running the length of the ship was a central core, Which could've been a home on Gran Canaria for all a visitor knew- Complete with holographic windows and natural-esque light that gave it all the feel of a calm house somewhere far from all the turmoil that seemed to chase her down. Unfortunately that had failed to dissuade her recently, she couldn't seem to pull herself away from the fact that she was still in space.
But outside the calm central core, the ship was wrapped in layer after layer of tempered, reforged scrap metal, designed to ward off the cold, irradiated environments to commonly attributed to such a vessel. The two layers had an absolute zero when it came to melding, in fact, they were joined by a simple double-door, the plastered walls giving way to a rusted metal staircase up to the bridge.
Vixen stepped onto the command deck of the vessel, approaching the current 'acting' commander. She glanced down into the chair at the figure, sitting across the chair, with a silly look on her face. On her head donned the strangest of things- A rather ancient-looking Tricorn, which the giggling feline wore rather well.
Leaning her head on the side of the chair, Vixen smiled down at her rather enthusiastic replacement. "What are you doing" she murmered after a moment, causing the cross-breed in front of her to jump, snapping to attention and trying to look busy. Sarah glanced up from the navigation table below, but didn't comment.
"Uh..umm...just..." the confronted girl stammered, trying her best to look busy.
"You were slacking. And being stupid while doing it." Vixen cut her off, a wide smile crossing her face. "I remember when I used to do the same...Just try not to keel-haul us while you do it, alright?" She snickered at the flustered feline, snatching the tricorn in one smooth move and resting it on her own head. "How close are we?"
"Well..." Jade said, standing so Vixen could take her usual place at the head of the bridge, her brooding thoughts banished by the mostly calm sleep. "We're close to Pittsburg. We've had to detour around the planet and avoid the tradelanes for obvious reasons." Vixen nodded. It went without saying they didn't want to be anywhere with records. "At the moment we're only a short distance from where Eva told us to be. Just near the moon there..." She pointed out into space, where the red planet and its smaller moon lay within the (in her opinion) best environment possible- a scrap field. Over the time she'd joined the Junkers, scrap had seemed more and more appealing- maybe she'd become Agoraphobic, or maybe she just liked the ambience. Ambience? There wasn't even sound in space, it was just broken metal...but either way, that broken metal had become her home.
A slight shiver went down Vixen's spine as she recalled the reason they were out here. The mysterious institution asking for her by name, and the little gathering Eva had planned out. At least she wouldn't be alone. That was the only part of the situation she really liked. I hope Bret gets here soon... she thought to herself, letting a soft smile cross her face. I could use some support right now.
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Meanwhile, near Fort Bush, a customised research liner blasted out of a lane, heading towards a dry-dock on the nearby shipyard. The ship was visibly different to a regular liner- Along its length, four large hauler engines were sturdily grafted on. The armor was thicker, the underside bearing a slight, scorched tinge. It was the sort of ship designed to dive into a planet's atmosphere- and come back up without harm. Onboard, a black-armored figure walked along a cold hall, checking tags on a row of icy tubes, stacked in blocks of eight. Looking around, the figure seemed to be almost flustered with anticipation...the objective they had been assigned was almost at hand, and the benefits of the day would be directly to their advantage...
A million dollars isn't cool. You know what is cool? A basilisk.
*As the old charon continued on autopilot through the New York system, Bret continued to sit quietly, listening to the hum of the engines behind him and the charge of his bionic arm locked into a connection from the ships console...As he started to exit the lane, the autopilot began to sound off* Autopilot: ~Now nearing Fort Bush--Baltimore Shipyard--Now heading to Planet Pittsburg~ *Bret looked through the windows, eying the stations and the surrounding planets, a gruff on his breath* Bret: I hate liberty space...I hope it was alright leaving Licentia with Evyn and Feya..Thankfully Naoko is with them...
*He felt the familiar lurch as the ship entered the lane, speeding him along at high velocity as the nearby planet began to get closer into view, suddenly starting to slow the closer he got* Autopilot: ~You have reached your destination--Disengaging Autopilot~ *Bret shivers a bit as he reaches over, checking the power gauge on his bionic arm, pulling it off the charger and reattaching it to his limb* Bret: Full charge..Good..I have a feeling I'll need it...
*The vessel began to enter the atmosphere, heading to a nearby spaceport that Vixen had told him to head to..As he searched the area, he failed to spot any craft the he could recognise, bringing a look of worry to his face* Bret: Where's the Novus?... *With a shudder, the craft lands, the cockpit cover sliding down, Bret leaping out onto the platform, pulling on a thick jacket as the wind sweeps against him..He puts his arms into his coat as he looks around, trying to keep warm from the cold* Bret: Where is she?...
-"If we do not learn at least one thing a day....Our minds turn to stupor"- Kyle Sparrgrove -2005
Vixen grimaced slightly as the dirty glow of Pittsburg's atmosphere overtook the viewing deck, obscuring the view of space as the stars winked out one by one. Dropping through the atmosphere, the Novus's barge engines kept her steady as the hulking frame descended towards the surface. After several minutes of tense waiting, A slight blip communicated that the descent was acceptable, and the engines tilted slightly, small auxilery thrusters keeping the ship stable as it tilted and floated down towards the spaceport that sighted their destination.
A cloud of dust billowed off the landing pad as the monsterous hunk of metal settled on the surface, the rarely-used landing gear sliding out of place to settle on the metal platform. In a usual situation Vixen would use the gravitylifts, but they could scarcely support the vessel, meaning that use of terrestrial gear was necessary- A ship like this should never have touched a planet's surface in the first place.
A slight clatter echoed through the ship as the bay doors opened a fraction, lowering a lift down from the bottom of the ship. Onboard, Vixen stood looking haughty, wearing a simple pair of black cargo pants and white singlet. Glancing around, she spotted Bret, and waved, his fighter dwarfed by the massive ship as the lift touched down on the ground.
A million dollars isn't cool. You know what is cool? A basilisk.
*Bret covers his face as the dust picks up a bit from the large vessel landing, smiling a bit as he notices a familiar figure walk out onto the platform..He walks up to her, putting his arms around her and hugging her gently, giving her cheek a kiss* Bret: Hey hun..How was your trip?..Uneventful I hope?
-"If we do not learn at least one thing a day....Our minds turn to stupor"- Kyle Sparrgrove -2005
Vixen smiled, holding something behind her back for a moment, before she whipped out the black tricorn and planted it on Bret's head. Grinning like an idiot, she embraces him fully. "Of course it was...nobody bothers Junkers around here, it seems." she said, beckoning him onto the lift. "Shall we go? Eva's rendezvous point is somewhere between here and the moon..."
A million dollars isn't cool. You know what is cool? A basilisk.
*He looks up at the small trinket on his forehead, shaking his head a bit as he pulls it off, walking along with her* Bret: A good point about Eva..Where the heck is she anyways?..I get this message and all she says is to hightail it here...And what the heck is this thing anyways?
-"If we do not learn at least one thing a day....Our minds turn to stupor"- Kyle Sparrgrove -2005
Maine, a small and unremarkable planetoid in the Libertonian system of New York, has very little information listed in the star charts. It offers no valuable resources and has no use beyond occasional weapons testing by the respective Liberty companies.
Orbiting its' parent planet within a swirling maelstrom of detritus, the icy moon sees no human life nor is capable of supporting even simple creatures autonomously. It is eternally dead, locked in a deep freeze.
Pock-marked with impact craters and layered with man-made debris, Maine is one of the last places that any person would deem a suitable place to call in to.
Nestled amongst the sea of garbage the moon's feeble gravity well has claimed over the years rests the utilitarian and unromantic form of a vessel affectionately dubbed The Working Girl by her current owners. Rusted sheet metal and unpainted iron cladding offer a form that only a very niche market would ever label as appealing.
Whilst awaiting the arrival of the two alternate beings whom the old battleaxe is to host as guests, work continues aboard the craft like any other day. Entire ships, station annexes and what the commander lovingly labels MMO's, or miscellaneous metallic objects, are collected, cut up and reduced to their primary constituents for recycling. Vast reserves of copper, aluminium, alloys, steels of all grades and various precious metals - of various origins - fill out the cavernous interior of the bulky frigate.
Within one of the numerous rooms of the tribute to iron ore, the unmistakable sounds and blinding lights of a plasma cutter bounce around the unprotected walls of the operating theatre as one such MMO is dissected for the valuable materials it contains.
A flock of young women in fashion disaster overalls and safety helmets stand around the operating table as the self-proclaimed teacher demonstrates the correct method of tearing something apart with the fourth state of matter.
The woman, a blonde-haired Bretonian bearing the moniker of Evangeline, focuses on the beam of superheated plasma before her as she makes a precise incision across the middle of a large slab of metal. After several seconds the arc is extinguished, leaving behind a clean and straight cut through the previously foreboding slab of iron, the edges thereof exuding a dull orange glow, alluding to the extreme temperatures generated in those few, intense seconds of action.
The woman removes her bulky, cumbersome helmet and offers the gun to a small girl standing beside her, previously captivated by the bright light of the cutter's arc and now eager to attempt the task herself.
However, her attempt at teaching an eleven-year-old girl to harness the power of god is quickly dashed by the arrival of a ship within radar range, as indicated by a message relayed over the vessel's primitive intercom network.
It'll have to wait for another day, Sakura. Seems our guests have arrived.
Evangeline removes her overalls, revealing oil-stained jeans and a plain black camisole as her ordinary work clothes. She cleans her hands on a rag, navigates around the piles of MMOs occupying the floor space surrounding her and makes her way to the air lock panel to greet the new arrivals.
A two-stage air lock awaits the perusal of the vacationers - a primitive yet effective two-door system with the exterior already open to the airless wasteland of Maine. Upon entry, the outer door locks tight and the room is pressurised with air stowed in pneumatic systems aboard the vessel. Upon equalisation, the inner door opens offering access to the remainder of the frigate.
The Novus had taken off with effort from Pittsburg, once again ignoring the docking rings as if they weren't even there. Once back in space, Vixen let out a slight sigh. "Much better. I don't like gravity, it makes things confusing..." she muttered, softly resting against Bret as the moon came into view around the dull orange atmosphere of the planet's surface. The engines slowly lifted out of Pittsburg's gravity well, increasing in speed until they once again lay in the safety of the scrap fields.
Jade stood at the controls of the vessel and monitored the progress. The scrap towards the dark matter cloud was thicker, but out here, it was sparse, especially across the gap between Pittsburg and Maine, where the tug of gravity created a relative calm in the twisted metal. The Novus lithely slipped between chunks of metal where it could, blasting others out of the way. Soon they found their destination, the frozen moon where Eva was supposed to be.
The descent onto Maine was different to Pittsburg. Unlike its larger host, Maine's atmosphere was borderline nonexistant; the ship barely had to slow down on its trip towards the surface. Slowly making its way across the dust, Vixen pointed out an odd shape down on the surface.
"There. Bet you thats her..." she said, checking over the navigation charts. It was indeed her, this was the meeting place they had confirmed. Engines struggling to keep the Novus balanced, it set down next to the 'Working Girl', the displaced moon dust from years of asteroid pummeling the only sign they had arrived.
Dragging Bret by the arm, Vixen rushed down to the airlock. Within minutes, the low hiss of pressurisation echoed through the unfamiliar ship, and the doors opened onto Eva's own little hideaway...
A million dollars isn't cool. You know what is cool? A basilisk.
Although bearing a passing external resemblance to her sister the Novus Domus, the Working Girl was, internally, a completely different breed. The infamous stubborn insistence by the typical Junker to rebuild, repurpose, reuse and recycle in-spite of logic and reason producing a vast swathe of variation amongst what most could consider an identical pair of ships. Notwithstanding, of course, the personal touches added by the obsolete yet hardy vessels' current ownership.
Upon entry to the innards of the craft the new arrivals are greeted by a randomly placed assortment of MMOs, their origins unknown - hence the term gifted to them - lying haphazardly on the floor. Somewhere amongst this collection is their astute, bedraggled owner; a twenty-something Bretonian woman bearing long, blonde hair messily tied back and hidden down her camisole between her shoulder blades, oil-stained cheeks distracting from her dull blue eyes, the sparkle they once contained long lost to the weight of life's trials.
Evangeline observes Vixen towing her domesticated male behind her as they enter the narrow, artificially lit hallway spanning the length of the frigate. She casually approaches the pair, deftly avoiding her prized metal collection as required.
Vixen! Bret! Haven't seen you two for a while. How's things?
Evangeline, before getting a reply, dashes beside Vixen and steals one of her ears, whispering something to her. Evangeline rests her hands on Vixen's shoulder, her intimate susurration and warm breath evoking strange sensations in the affianced listener.
Bret's been a good boy, I hope? Looking after you and Licentia like he should, hmm? What about convincing him to seal the deal? I wanna see a wedding~!
The subject of the secret girl's business feigns ignorance, yet, as to be expected of any mortal male, tries to collect whatever intelligence he could of the discussion - his hypersensitive ears working overtime to intercept the near-silent murmurs from the pair of infamous seductresses - whilst the rest of him pretends to be occupied with observing whatever random installations and scenery surround him.
Vixen grins, still wearing the black tricorn from earlier, having taken a liking to it. "Yes, he's been taking care of us fine." At the mention of the wedding, she glanced across at Bret, smiling softly, then back at Eva. "No date yet...soon, hopefully."
Pulling away from Eva, she rolled her eyes slightly. "Now lets not forget why we're here, right? Do our mysterious visitors know where we are?" she said, obviously refering to the Concordia group. As she spoke, Vixen took the hat off, putting it on Eva's head and examining her for a moment. "Hmm. I like it" she said, grinning again as she leaned on Bret's shoulder.
A million dollars isn't cool. You know what is cool? A basilisk.