Evangeline adjusts the new addition to her fashion sense with both her hands in true pirate style before pulling her hair out from its' hiding place down her back, the only feminine aspect of the career tomboy's persona waving freely as far as her buttocks.
They don't know where we are yet. I was waiting to get my pieces in place before arranging anything.
Anyway. Come with me.
Evangeline beckons the affianced couple to follow her as she meanders down the passage towards the bow of the bulky frigate, stopping in front of a suitably antiquated elevator. Sliding a mesh door open by hand she allows Bret and Vixen to enter before closing the door.
The young commander presses a faded, worn out olive-green button listed alongside an assortment of equally drab choices on a side panel in the wall, the action thereof triggering the elevator to roughly jerk into life, the hydraulic system launching the ironclad platform skyward.
Unlike the vessels of the current era, the old salvage frigate exuded mechanical hums, beats, bangs and vibrations most normal people would consider irritating - although most would also consider the Junker responsible for such archaic methods of motion far from "normal". Amidst the low hum of the pump performing its' work, the audible sound of the safety ratchet can be heard - a constant, metallic knock every half second or so.
The hydraulics of the elevator perform their mundane, yet critical, task of raising Evangeline and her guests to the level of the bridge. Evangeline, once again, slides the iron grate across, permitting Bret and Vixen to alight.
Upon entry to the control tower the new arrivals are greeted by a scene befitting the calibre of vessel of which they are guests of - an outdated and proudly mechanical affair consisting of primitive radar screens, two-tone computer readouts and a myriad of buttons and levers - each with a single, specific task.
Looking out through the blocky, rectangular windows, the vast expanses of the Pittsburgh debris field are visible, with the named planet dominating the horizon with its' infamous foreboding orange hues.
Evangeline wanders over to the captain's chair, an obviously retrofitted affair complete with brown velour covers and deep, plush padding - the design thereof might incline one to suggest it was stolen from a Manhattan bus.
I'm gonna get them on the line now and make an arrangement. Is that alright?
Vixen took a quick look around the bridge. It was a nice, rather homey compared to hers, the internal components nicked from the wreck of a liberty capital vessel scrapped a long time ago. The question caught her slightly off-guard, though. Was it alright? Did she really want to meet these people at all...?
Blinking up at Bret, he gave her a slight nod, and she nodded to Eva. "Well...thats what we came here for." She said, still sounding a little sceptical. "Might as well make the arrangement for a meeting..."
A million dollars isn't cool. You know what is cool? A basilisk.
*A bit of a worried feeling swept over him as he listened to Vixen, his arm feeling a bit tight in his mind* Bret: Are you sure we can trust these people hun?..I just got this bad feeling yah know?..I can't really explain it and all... *He double-checks the power supply in his arm, switching it over to its cannon form for a moment* Bret: Hopefully I wont have to use this...
-"If we do not learn at least one thing a day....Our minds turn to stupor"- Kyle Sparrgrove -2005
Evangeline takes her seat and spins it around to face a haphazardly assembled communication console - essentially a hand-held camcorder duct taped to the center pillar. She flicks a switch on the side of the recording device, taps some numbers into the primitive control panel and glares through the unresponsive glass eye of the recorder.
Her presence changes dramatically, as if she were putting on an act. She haughtily addresses the intended target of the transmission and after a few moments of a dominating, overbearing swagger she flicks the switch again, and lets out a heavy sigh, quickly returning to her "normal" self.
That's sorted then. We'll wait here until they show up.
Evangeline casually evacuates her most comfortable looking chair, an area which one can tell gets well used - a variety of food and drink wrappers decorating the captain's "quarters". She wanders across the otherwise empty bridge to a locked cabinet riveted to the wall.
Evangeline buries one hand into her pocket, retrieves a key and opens the padlock guarding the cabinet's contents. Upon opening, a small cache of firearms can be observed. She pulls out two unidentified handguns and jumbles them in her arms as she closes and relocks the cabinet.
The first of the two pistols is roughly jammed between Evangeline's thigh and the hem of her jeans, staying in plain sight.
You know how to use these, right?
Just in case.
Evangeline grabs the other firearm by the barrel and hands it to Vixen.
Vixen looks at Bret, giving him a soft smile. "I'm sure it will be fine...completely fine..." Embracing him quickly, she directed her attention back to Eva, and the gun offered to her. Smiling slightly, she takes the pistol, weighing it in her hand. "'course I know how to use one...If I thought it would come down to this i would've brought my sword. I'm not great with guns...so, where are we headed?"
------------------
Disconnecting from Baltimore, the strange liner shifted towards Pittsburg. The atmospheric engines were stored in a cargo bay of a smaller ship, headed in the other direction, and it seemed normal again, if not for the scorched underside and the thickened armor...It may have been deceptive, however, the armor of the liner was designed to survive planetary impact, and any massive force it would encounter...
A million dollars isn't cool. You know what is cool? A basilisk.
*Bret looks over to Vix with a shrug, switching his arm back to normal as he watches Eva arm herself...He shakes his head a bit in disbelief, leaning against the console* Bret: Why am I not surprised that you would be ready for something like this?..
-"If we do not learn at least one thing a day....Our minds turn to stupor"- Kyle Sparrgrove -2005
Evangeline eyes off the neon-green glow of the frigate's radar system, the larger industrious remnants of the Pittsburgh debris field clouding the scanner result rendering it basically useless.
We're not headed anywhere. They're coming to us.
Evangeline talks without making eye contact as she lords over the computer screen, checking it intently for any changes. Despite being clouded with false pings it was still able to show movement - a trick the seasoned hull cutter had learnt a long time ago.
Bret. This is your wife we're putting at risk here. I don't think a few handguns is overkill, do you?
Evangeline raises her head and smiles coyly at Vixen.
They'll be on their way by now. We've nothing to do but wait until they get here.
Vixen nodded. "Down onto the moon?" She leaned over Eva's shoulder, watching the shadowy green display, looking for any signs of an echoey visual in the strange green glow. "At least its relatively safe here.." she muttered.
------------------
A low clang echoed as yet another chunk of scrap was deflected from the long, silent liner. Following almost the exact route Vixen had taken just earlier. Onboard, the black-suited figure tapped onto a slight console, and a wave of mist was released from each cylinder, the pressure leveling slowly with that of the ship's atmosphere. Looking at the display beside her for just a moment, the figure then glanced out a nearby viewport, the shadowy surface of Maine blocking off the entirety of space from proximity.
------------------
The two salvagers sat in silence on the surface of the moon. In space above them, only the slightest spark in the night-esque sky could reveal the approaching transport. It settled down silently on the free side of the 'Working Girl'- Only one pod was suspended in the skeletal frame, spanning the usual space of all three. The pod wasn't average, simply by looking at it- Extra armor that extended around the skeletal arms held the pod in place, and it was rigged with a airlock that extended to the salvager, locking in place but not sealing just yet, confirmation from Eva's side required before the pressurisation could take place.
A million dollars isn't cool. You know what is cool? A basilisk.
Evangeline becomes aware of the craft sneaking up beside her bulbous frigate, glaring out the rectangular windows of her own ship at the ominous steel coffin as it comes to rest on the frozen wasteland of Maine's surface.
Her keen eye observes the extension of the catwalk from the opposing vessel to the side of her own, attempting to lock itself in place.
The blonde-haired captain silently rises to attention, slides her ponytail back within the confines of her camisole and begins the precursive swagger out of the bridge's confines towards the airlock on the lower deck.
This is it.
Evangeline pauses before the passageway exit and turns her head to one side; as if talking to the wall - an obvious hint of unease about her. Bret. Come with me.
Vixen, you stay here.
Eva runs her hand over the pistol she carries, a keen eye perhaps recognising the logo of Rheinland's military force on the seductive, graphite-metallic grip. After reconfirming its' presence, she directs herself to the mesh door of the awaiting elevator.
*Bret's eyes narrow a moment, giving only a slight nod as he looks back to Vix..He gives her a wink as he turns, following Eva along the way....When they reach the elevator, he looks up at the ceiling a moment, taking a deep breath before letting it out slowly* Bret: Alright Eva...What's the plan?
-"If we do not learn at least one thing a day....Our minds turn to stupor"- Kyle Sparrgrove -2005