A conference aboard of Sparta.

[Aoi Oono]

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Hudson system, grid square 8B, 20:20 SST.

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As soon as two Arbeiters engaged docking sequence went for the designated docking bays - Aoi have headed for the exit from the captains' bridge, She was going to meet her guests in person - as a captain, and a person who eventually invited them, she could afford for some of her closest commanding officers to uphold this greeting instead of her.
"Jameson, you're in command of the ship in my absence. Instill yellow level of combat preparedness, any approaching ship is to be questioned of it's intentions and identification." - the young captain spoke before leaving the bridge.

The long corridors adorned in silvery steel have guided her further into the depths of the Aquilon; in no way this lightweight vessel could match a famous Nephilim - not by size, not by amount of firepower it could dish out, not by the capacity of the power core. But it also had it's advantages. More nimble and maneuverable, it carrier multiple snubcraft aboard to assist it in combat situations and cover it's initial flaws of being less armored and less armed ship than most of Dreadnoughts.
Neither of the Sparta's revisions have been partaking in combat that often to bother with providing it with formidable armament.

Finally, an elevator at the end of the long corridor led Aoi to a hangar deck #3, where the wanted visitors have probably been already expecting her, leaving the cockpits of their Arbeiter-class very heavy fighters and taking first breaths of "fresh" filtered air present aboard of Sparta. The ships' life support systems were top-notch and included advanced xenobiotic filters that ensured the "best" possible quality of breathable oxygen, approximately close to the one that once were present on Earth before rapid industrialisation polluted it below acceptable levels.
Oono stood before an automated door for a couple of minutes, getting her mind together, before stepping through it, and greeting her guests warmly. She sure looked young: pure skin without a trace of wrinkles or any other signs of aging - it was yet too early for them to reveal their presence - a slim stature adorned in a jet black bodysuit with green neon-glowing lines going all the way down her body to the feet. She adjusted her glasses, and finally approached Hunter and Gunda.

"Suparuta ni yōkoso. Watashi wa jikan o muda ni shinai koto o teian shi, kaigi hōru wa junbi sa re, matte iru. Watashi wa watashi ni tanomimasu."

Aoi then realised that, due to a force of habit, spoke this into Kusarian; she coughed, and repeated herself - in Bretonian, which was more accessible for general people all around Sirius.

"Welcome to Sparta. I suggest us loose no time, and head for the conference hall immediately. It was prepared and includes everything we could possibly need. Please, follow me."

The young lady then turned around, inviting her guest to follow her with a gesture, walking away slowly as she did.

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[Aaron_Cianci]

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As his Arbeiter came down cleanly against the flight deck of the Sparta, Hunter took his hands off the controls. Before even releasing his flight harness, though, the young man's eyes swam across the entirety of the landing bay. Spending an entire life on Unioner bases, which were not always in the best of shape, the sight of the Sparta - clean and effortless in its beauty - stopped him and got his attention. His dark eyes couldn't help but lift, amusement coloring his expression as he finally hit the release on his harness and the latch over the canopy on his fighter.

"This is one hell of a ship." The utterance escaped his mouth almost involuntarily. He shook his head, chuckling at his own naivete, before pulling himself up. Aoi's crew had already put a ladder against the ship's side, and he climbed down it quickly. "Thank you," he uttered to the deck crew, making sure to acknowledge each of them by meeting their eyes, before stepping away from his ship. He couldn't stop himself from looking back at it though once he was a few steps away. It was the first time he'd ever left his fighter in the care of anyone other than an Alster Union member.

"It will be fine, I'm sure," Hunter thought to himself, taking a deep breath. He could see Riehl's ship in the neighboring bay, and at first glance of the woman stopped him short. The sound of his boot soles screeching on the hard metal of the deck plating was loud enough to draw the attention of several deck hands nearby. Her appearance was almost designed to be attention gathering. With hair spiked higher than he'd ever seen on a woman, dark clothes and jewelry that seemed like it could snag on her flight controls, there was no withholding the shock he felt. Shaking it off - but not before his cheeks turned slightly red - Hunter moved quickly to the woman's side. "Ma'am," he said, tipping his head politely. He was the junior pilot present and would show proper deference. He fell into step to her left and two steps behind her, until they reached the end of the deck. A moment later, a small, slight woman appeared from the door embedded in the bulkhead.

And she spoke Kusari. At least, that's what language it sounded like to Hunter, but he wasn't completely sure. "I am so unprepared for this...," ran through his mind. He was about to open his mouth to request Bretonian - which tended to be the easiest common language that people spoke - but she corrected herself before he could say anything. Taking in her appearance, Hunter wasn't expecting her to be so brusque and businesslike. But he approved. He smiled and nodded to her, forgetting momentarily his place as a subordinate of Riehl's. "Of course, ma...Aoi," he stopped, correcting himself to using just her first name, and then falling into step behind her.

"I have to say again, this ship is beautiful," Hunter said, his voice conversational and light. There would be enough time for the heavier conversation once they reached the conference hall. "I have to ask, as a hacker...surely you've made some enemies. Is that why you ensconce yourself in such a vessel?" he asked.

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[Enkidu]

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Thrusters ripping cold gas turned condensation warm as they stroked the decks, flattening out the sudden tug of gravity that pressed her seat away from her spine as the two AG fields tussled. Down.

Riehl had exhaled the last of her tanked air as the fighter touched the clamps, extricating herself from the straps, the fighter reverberating against the tensor field as it languished, hovering off the deck. She struggled herself, legs down, from the nose hatch. All had filtered away. She wasn’t on her air anymore.


The dull panic of being in another woman’s spacecraft. Where the vibrations chafed instead of stroked against all her confirmation biases. Young, too - that was a story unto itself. How did a code-splicer for hire walk themselves into the commission of flying warehouse?


“Heyup.” Gunn dumb-mouthed, deciding the wiser point of discretion was to baton down the hatches and follow the leash. She was searching for a remark that befitted this curious Zoner and her dayglo all-in-all getup, till she couldn’t repress it. She shot off an eyes-right glance that asserted that the rookie was hiding his alienation not as half as well as she was, but their heads both equally stuck in wonderland. Good. She gave the kid an affirming squeeze on the shoulder, reminding him both what the pecking order was, and that she had his hide under watch. None of the upholstery was going to grab him here.

“Why the white? It’s not structural, it makes your ships stand out against the black reflecting all the signals. You’re rigged for deep space so it’s not like you’re nesting for ground observation in low orbit. Why do Zoners always build white ships?” Gunn opened, her mind seething with the conventional Agoraphobia of a unioner confronted by overly wide corridors. So much air to waft away at the nearest structural failure. But that was the nature of Zoners; natural sterilizers. There wasn’t a hint of fungal miasma to it. “It’s not as if you can take a kilometre of plate and porcelain to a drive-in clean-up.”

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THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's Shipping Unions, retired from a life of piracy.)

Information | Recruitment | Message Dump |
Feedback | Diplomatic channel

(Links pending redevelopment).

[Aoi Oono]

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Hudson system, grid square 8B, 9th of September, 20:31 SST.

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"It is only outer plating. Mostly decorative, having little to no value other than providing a more decent aesthetic look. It is also not white, it is silver grey. Everything valuable is far deeper, under a sufficient armor plating."

The dialogue took place already on the way, they walked through a long corridor made in the same colors that, as Gunda noticed, ''too white, blatantly umasking the ship". The second revision of Sparta, despite it's heavy armor plating and solid armament - never served a purpose of offense, it was built and repurposed to protect what could be contained inside.
Sparta was a ship serving a purpose of diplomacy, not war.

Further through the corridor, one level upward on an elevator, walk to the right on the first divarication, and then walk straight until the end of the corridor.
The massive automatic blast door slid open, hiding into a space in the wall, and Aoi walked inside, clapping twice as she crossed the edge of the conference room; soft lights dimmed from the ceiling all over the place, revealing a relatively large, rectangular shaped room. Inside stood a table of exactly the same shape that housed twenty four chairs around it - eleven at each larger edge, and two standing opposite to one another. Aoi took a long walk around the table and sat down at the far end of the table, inviting her guests to take a sit as well with a gesture.
The conference room itself did not make much of a difference compared to other parts of the ship; it's walls were composed of the same silvery-grey colored steel, followed with a pure white ceiling housing lots of small lightning fixtures now dimming with a soft light, the floor were covered with a large red carpet that, despite the fact this room rarely were used - was often cleaned, not even a slightest trace of dirt were tolerated in the abode of Sparta's diplomacy.
The large glass table of the rectangular shape have accomplished the interiors along with wooden chairs surrounding it, the surface of the table contained some sort of emblem both Hunter and Gunda could see earlier - at least once, in the transmission that ensured this meeting was going to happen.
Aoi spoke, smiling as she did.

"You have made it this far to find me. Considering the amount of efforts you've put into this - i assume you have quite a few dealings to offer me, yet you've been keeping them in your mind; now - you are welcome to share your concerns, no ears but mine will hear those concerns, you may be sure about this."

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[Aaron_Cianci]

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Hunter did his best to hide his annoyance at his question being ignored in favor of Gunda's, but the emotion managed to cross his expression for a moment. Thankful that neither of the women was looking his way as they strode down the hall, the young man flexed his arms, stretching out the shoulder that Gunda touched. He knew he was a grunt, and that didn't mean much, but being so clearly reminded of his place in front of someone of importance - and Hunter had no doubt that Ms. Oono was about to become very important to the Alster Union cause - bothered him very much. "How is anyone going to take me seriously if all my 'superiors' keep showing them I'm not worth much?," he thought as they walked.

By the time they reached the conference room, Hunter's awe over the state of Aoi's ship had settled itself into the back of his head, happy to be ignored in light of their other concerns. He moved quickly along the long side of the table, and took not the nearest seat to Aoi, but one seat away, assuming Gunda would prefer to sit closest. Pulling the chair back from the table, he settled into it more gracefully than his outward appearance and heavy tattoos might indicate he could, and then he joined his hands on the surface of the table. He watched Gunda move across the room as well, but said nothing. He wasn't going to make the mistake of speaking first again.

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[Enkidu]

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It dawned on Gunda that she'd cut the rookie off. Rookie. What did that even mean? New to the rookery? Another crow to pick at the carcasses of the Sirian tradelanes, over and over again, till even the bones rot? She eyeballed the kid - who had twelve years junior on her, watching him slantways, trying to parse some personality out of Hunter other than puppydog eagerness. He was a green-blooded syndic, so deep into the cradle of self-actualisation that he was struggling when he nudged against the valves and gears that kept the machine he enjoyed the output of properly greased. He was unstitching a deep-seated long rejected desire within her to protect the little man - to preserve him, and all his self-belief, against the cynicism of a permafrost universe.

Wolff was racking up a service record - she respected performance, readiness without psychosis - he was a poster-child. If only his parents hadn't named him like a glam rock icon.

Outer plating and inner plating. Skins within skins. Unioner engineering wasn't monocoque either, but you could call a bulkhead a bulkhead and not a bathtub - which was what the ship resembled when Gunda flew an inverted pass on pre-approach, sounding out the markers of a disciplined landing. Riehl realised that the Rook had stunned the landing better than she had - she'd wired herself in for hard-smacked combat landings that crunched the suspension fields hard enough to bend hull out of shape. Or shatter a prettified ship.


She levered herself down into the table. The chair was short for her, worse, it was attempting to adjust itself into the faux-mindreading comfort of over instrumented devices. There wasn't anything Gunda resented more than overtly aggressive chairs. Sometimes a little manual sweat and inefficiency was called for. Gunn, like the untold millions that formed the rest of her kin was an engineer. She refused to be engineered herself.

"I told you in space, Captain; the story hasn't changed in the telling yet. It's what you couldn't help us with. That you're offering alone makes you better kitted out for it than the rest of Sirius. Now, I'm not the speaking type, so I don't want to be hammer-blunt anymore than I have to, but I'd like to get to know you, this cream-coloured carrier that you're in commission of, and for you to know us, before I get down to the grit." The veteran Unioner cracks a nonhostile smile. "Just to lay it out of the way."

Layers within layers. A hacktivist for hire in command of a carrier. Too many mirrors in the funhouse.

"Hunter?" She eyeballed the Arbeiter, wondering what his reaction would be. "You've had the longest connection - I'm just a passenger here. How did you find each other?"

---

THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's Shipping Unions, retired from a life of piracy.)

Information | Recruitment | Message Dump |
Feedback | Diplomatic channel

(Links pending redevelopment).

[Aoi Oono]

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Hudson system, grid square 8B, 9th of September, 20:39 SST.

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"Getting to know each other, you say. Usually, i don't go down to personal affairs with my clients - and people in general, but if you insist... I guess I can afford some chatter."

And Aoi thought she prepared well for the meeting, expecting it to be a purely business-related discussion, that suddenly went straight to general lyrics and totally unrelated chatter. That's where Aoi stuttered, eventually caught by surprise, staring in surprise at her guests. It took her a few moments to tilt her head, get a hold of her confusion and uphold the informal chatter Gunda expected from her.

"Well, there's not much to tell, to be honest. Born in Omicrons, raised in Kusari. A hacker, beginner manga artist. Been in position of the main engineer of Sparta for quite some time, partaking in peace negotiation efforts in Delta and Bering, back in the times the Militants have first emerged. I guess my brothers' efforts have saved a solid seven hundred lives aboard of Freeport eleven back then. Now, well... you see everything with your very own eyes."

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[Aaron_Cianci]

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Once they were all seated, Hunter put himself into observation mode. It was a mode he engaged often, focusing on what was going on around him, trying to drown out his own thoughts, his own feelings. He found that through that examination of the things around him, he picked up the most information. In his head, the young man imagined that most people didn't have the patience for just being quiet and listening. He intent to do so, however, was interrupted when he was addressed.

He was comfortable with Gunda, though. They had flown together several times at this point. He also knew Aoi, as much as anyone could know a random encounter in space. The young man's shoulders relaxed against the back of the chair, and a genuine smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. He reached up, running his fingers through the ebony faux hawk on his head - which didn't move at all despite the contact - before speaking.

"Aoi and I encountered one another in Bering. She considers Bering a personal refuge, a place of quiet and contemplation. As I understand it, she has just recently returned, only to find that we, Harmony, the Hellfire Legion, the Liberty Police and others have turned her beloved refuge into a war zone," he said, explaining Aoi's initial contact with him. He then turned his head to the smaller woman, tilting it in acknowledgement, inviting her to correct anything he misspoke.

"Regarding why we are here, and not to pry too much into Ms. Oono's personal story," he said, attempting to redirect back to the business at hand. He would like to get to know Aoi better. Gunda as well. He thrived on the personal connections in his life, but this was neither the time nor the place. "She has expressed a supreme talent for accessing things which their owners would prefer not be accessed. And that is a talent we need right now, with all those banging on Pacifica's door, looking to break it down. I was hoping we could start with a more...detailed dossier of your talents, Aoi, as well as a previous example or two of your successes?"

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