"I think you do. You got a fair hand for waldos," Kovos says. "Move the other two back to match, then we'll lock it down and bring the impellers back up."
Although the containers look immensely heavy, the machine doesn't find them so. Semo catches on quick and easily moves the cargo. What follows next is a painstaking and laborious process of locking the containers back down to the various restraints. The cargo bay's riddled with trapdoor hatches that spool forth maglocks, cabling, and all manner of equipment for securing nearly any type of cargo imaginable. The containers would require ladders to scale under normal gravity, but Semo can clear the top with one mighty leap.
"All right!" Kovos says once the containers are secured. "We'll move the ags after chow."
---
Davis can tell he's struck a nerve, and he keeps twisting.
"Yaris. She knows how to boggle 'em. Better to boggle n' barter than to battle," the boy alliterates, like it's a meme. "So Yaris convinced Master to barter. She knows Fleet, she was an interceptor." - Davis notes the choice of words was an interceptor versus Kovos' was an interceptor pilot, flashes back to the woman's skull-jack, and has the unsettling feeling that the child described Yaris' previous life more accurately than the old deckhand.
"Why are you askin'?" the kid finally posits. "Are you bandits? Got a Grand Apprehender after you?"
---
"Sensors are clear," Yaris interjects. "ETA: 15 hours to the Gate."
Well done. My eloquent friends, it is time to dine. Your Master indicated you would be joining us?
"Nothing like that, but we're not exactly good guys at the moment, either. I suppose it really depends on who you consider to be the good guys, you know?" Davis pauses. "We are in a heap of trouble, though. But I suppose you knew that already," he says, and smiles.
After experimenting with the machine for a bit, Hugh has a notebook page full of hand-drawn switch positions for his various experiments. The latest batch is pretty close to mashed potatoes with a hint of chili flavor, so he decides to call it a day. He wanders off to meet with Swims-the-Black and catch up on what's going on.
"I wouldn't exactly say we're bad guys, but we're not exactly good, either." Davis pauses to think about what he wants to say. "Sometimes, good people need to do some bad things in order to make sure that the good guys win." He thinks about it again for a second. "Yeah. That's what it is. I know it sounds a bit confusing, but it makes sense when you think about it."
He scoots down the wall and sits down to be closer to eye-level with the kid. "Just because bad people do good things doesn't necessarily make them good, and just because good people do bad things doesn't necessarily make them bad. It all depends on what they're doing it for and what results they get in the end. For example, sometimes, a good person does a bad thing for a good reason, but it turns out that they got a bad result. That doesn't necessarily make them a bad person, but it doesn't make them a good person, either."
Davis pauses for thought again. "I guess it really depends on what you think about what they're doing and how they're doing it. If you agree with what they're trying to do and you trust them, then they're a good person. If you don't, then they're a bad person. And the Imperium doesn't like what we're doing, so to them, we're bad guys and are treated as such." He looks up at the kid. "Any of this make sense to you?"
"Yeah," the kid says. "Like when Master and Yaris sell passengers to the Turai so they won't take all of us."
The conversation is interrupted by heavy bootsteps on deck plating. The unsavory trucker-looking man from before trods up and past Davis and the shipboy, grunting out "Chowtime" as he passes.
"There's always extra when we have passengers! Come on!" the shipboy exhorts Davis. The red-skinned child gets up and trots up to the foredecks.
---
Hugh runs into Swims-the-Black, Yaris, Stanhill, and Max coming down to the mess room from the bridge. Kovos shows up a minute later with Semo, Taylor, and Mellish in tow. Black's second, Clay, appears from a side hatch with a tray of metal utensils and starts passing out... sporks... to everyone. The long table is crowded, even though it looks like there's plenty of room when the ship's not overloaded with passengers. Stools and small crates are brought out so there's enough seating, but elbow room is nonexistent.
Swims-the-Black nods to Clay, who flips on a wall-vox. His voice echoes through Akamu's corridors. *Chow time. One-Ton, get up here. Any of our guests still out there, take the ventral passage and enter the last door before the crashers.*
One-Ton, the space trucker, enters the mess a few seconds after he's called. He's visibly uneasy around so many new faces, but he takes a seat between Clay and Kovos.
Will your other two men be joining us? signs Black. Hugh does a quick headcount and notices Angel and Davis are still unaccounted for.
I'm not sure. These two need a certain amount of solitude, and I do not question their ways.
Once dinner is underway, Hugh has a few questions.
How did you end up as Captain of the Akumu, Swims-the-Black? Forgive my directness, but it seems like the Imperium does not grant such an opportunity to many Whirr-people.
Angel makes his way down to the galley, taking the time when the ship is relatively empty to make a little better survey of his surroundings, before reappearing in the chow line. Needing solitude and all not withstanding, chow is chow.
As requested, Semo maneuvers the other two crates into position with only a slight bump due to unsteadiness. He really does seem to be getting the hang of this.
"Chow? Lead me to it, boss. Most anything makes me hungry," he concludes with a smile.
They tromp back up the passage toward where they got aboard, then veer off into what turns out to be the mess hall. Semo loads up a tray, grabs a spork and digs in, with only a momentary chuckle at the spork. In his time, he's eaten the most unimaginable things masquerading as food and doesn't expect this is any worse.
"I'll catch up in a second, I just need to pick up something from my gear," Davis says. He walks towards the aft of the ship until he finds the cargo bay, and goes through the team's dropped gear until he comes up with a grenade, which he sticks in a pocket. "A little insurance policy never hurt anyone," Davis says, as he checks the ammo in his sidearm. He then walks towards the mess hall to meet up with everyone else.
Black signs Welcome to Angel, still impressed by the group's handling of the Whiirr language. Davis the last to join the group but is not suspiciously late in his arrival.
"So...uh...What do we have for dinner?" asks Max as Semo is already on his third bite. The metal plates contain a pale glop, a thicker brown mass with a texture akin to raw hamburger, and thin slices of orange material.
"The ivory nutrients should taste like mashed potatoes," Arketta offers. She slides a few Diego Garcia mess hall ketchup packets across the table before opening one over her own food. The pale glop does in fact taste like mashed potatoes with a hint of chili, and is the most familiar in texture. The brown selection has a meaty taste to it but is far too soft to match up with what tastes... ham-like. Semo thinks the sliced food tastes like apples, but to Max they're pumpkin-flavored.
After everyone's seated and eating, Hugh breaks the ice with How did you end up as Captain of the Akamu, Swims-the-Black? Forgive my directness, but it seems like the Imperium does not grant such an opportunity to many Whirr-people.
Black sits back a bit, as if he's answered this question before. No, they do not. Thirty years ago I was idealistic and full of my peoples' fallacies. I happily left my home for the so-called gods, and just as the old saying goes, 'even gods need warriors', I proved skilled and smart enough to join the ranks of the Alef-ka.
"You were a Jade Caretaker?" Arketta interrupts, stunned.
Yes. One of the few whom the Emperor trusts with his life. Until Bashakra. I stood on the bridge with the Avatar as General Akamu ordered the bombardment, and my love for my Imperium died with that cursed planet.
Black takes another bite, and although it is hard to tell, Hugh and Max have had the most experience reading Whiirr and it looks like the alien's rolling painful memories around with his food.
I... resigned... from my honored post and was cast into the Arena. I won my freedom there after many years. Helo Farsad is registered shipmaster of this vessel, and I acted as his second for a long time. He died out there in the howling dark and I took his place. Clay here acts the part dirtside when needed, but in the void we may all be ourselves.
It's a fair question, Black adds. I, for one, am interested in how you come to speak Whiirr so well when so many regard it as... beast-speak, he continues.
Hugh is about to speak when Davis cuts him off. "Business deal went sour, and we had to make a quick exit. We'd had good experiences with the Whirr in the past, and knew enough of the customs to get by, so we spent a few weeks on-planet, lying low and staying out of trouble."
*This ain't half bad,* Semo thinks to himself, shoveling heaping sporkfuls into his mouth. The textures are a little odd, but the tastes are somewhat reminiscent of normal food. Rather surprising, actually, considering how far they are from home.
The mention of a Jade Caretaker from Arketta raises Semo's curiosity, but it's explained soon enough. This Whirr must be a skilled fighter to become one of the Emperor's bodyguards. His brief mention of the annihilation of the planet is enough for Semo. He nods silently as Swims-in-Black talks of his departure from service and the troubles he endured as a result. The path of honor can be a difficult road, and Semo respects him for choosing to walk it.
Davis realizes he might have hit a psychological brick wall with Swims-the-Black. He remembers the briefings, how Whiirr have an instinctive grasp of body language, and while he's absolutely sure nobody else at the table is going to pick up anything off of him, the shipmaster seems to be as astute as Davis is cunning.
Black accepts Davis' answer, and responds with Not that I do not appreciate your payment and respect our agreement for passage, but are you making such a 'quick exit' now?
The conversation hits a wall and is replaced with the common sounds of eating. As Semo discovers, the glop doesn't taste that bad, and Max finds the slab of ham-like play-doh improves significantly with ketchup.
Mellish helps Clay remove the utensils and plates. One-Ton quickly excuses himself to tend to Engineering.
(OOC: We can move on, or if anyone has anything else to say, now's the time)
Hugh doesn't say anything on the matter unless directly questioned. It looks like both parties are still feeling each other out, trying to prod and probe for juicy intel. That's okay, at this stage.
After dinner, Hugh quietly beckons Davis closer in a quiet spot.
"Two things," he says in English. "One, what did you find out? Two, how much do we let them know? I don't think we'll get anywhere stonewalling them, and I'd like to know who's most receptive to our mission. It gives us a guinea pig to try on, and if things go to shit - I pray to God they don't, but I know how this works - if it goes to shit, we're not standing in a room surrounded by them. If we have to take 'em, it will be on our terms."
"We should wait until we clear the gate for that," Davis says, also in English. "We're still in striking range of people looking for us, and this crew has a history of selling passengers out to the Turai in exchange for safe passage when things get rough. So maybe telling them that we're from the long-sought homeworld of their kind and that we're currently Public Enemy #1 isn't really the best idea. They used to be some kind of badasses, though, even more than they let on at the table. Something changed, probably some kind of bad encounter with the Imperium, and now they're running scared from something. I think that's an angle that we can work if things go sideways, before we go for the whole truth. As of right now, we lie low and wait. Maybe we'll get lucky and we'll get out of the system in one piece."
Admiral Duck Sauce
