GR RP "Adventures in Gunrunning" ACT 24
POSTED BY: CapnRahn
UPDATED: Thursday, December 23, 2004 18:03
VIEWED: 21598
PAGE 9 of 10
Malachi's Move
Location: Back onboard his ship.
The ship is the same as it was when he left it; small, fast, powerful and ahead of its time. Constant modifications at base equiped it with the best technology, and for such a small and stealthy ship... the most destructive.
Setting down the black case that he had brought to Slight's ship and back again, he opens it and removes the pieces of a large, automatic laser rifle. "Nothing ever is."
Malachi stalks purposefully to a rectangular metal plate inset into the starboard wall, pushes it and opens a concealed weapons storage locker. He places the pieces of the rifle within and retuns to the black case. Three items still remain in this case, the largest, a med bag, he takes in one hand and walks to the console, setting it down next to Slight. Noting the open connection to Serenity, Malachi catches Slight's eye with a questioning look.
EM
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Slights move:
Slight notes the medbag. He should refill the chemicals in his cartridge belt. He mentally injects himself with endorphines.
Slight notices the questioning look.
My old ride. It's a rickety old Firefly-class, run by someone called Reynolds. He calls it Serenity. Has something to do with. . .
Slight considers the vision he'd had.
It's his graveyard, his haunting. Whenever he thinks of Serenity, the battle he fought in, his mind sees a burning cross. He lost his faith in God, there. Serenity is his way of paying tribute. You ever hear of the Bulletproof Browncoat? One of the Independents' supposed weapon? That's him. Seargent Malcolm Reynolds, now Captain Reynolds.
He's picked up a bit of a ragtag crew. A couple of. . ."heavy lifters," a pilot, a mechanic, a medic-Slight winces at that, the usual. He even got himself a priest. Shepard Book, your little prize and former employer. Whatever mierde you got with him, that's your business.
Slight turns back to the consol, but continues to speak.
What's the medkit for?
Wizards Eighth Rule: Deserve Victory
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Malachi's Move
Malachi picks back up the bag and moves away. He's been on the same ship. "How long were you there?" and he didn't notice anything about Book, or he wouldn't still be calling him a shepherd. He goes slowly to the far end of the ship and replaces the med bag in it's storage area next to a pull-out wall cot used for triage. A small ship, he's still only 25 feet away at the far end. Remaining still for a time, he takes the time to quiet his thoughts. The motion sensitive light clicks off bathing him in soothing shadows. He's probably still in possession of one of the crystals he created. If I can take it, I can free myself forever. For a long time he sits in the dark plotting.
EM
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Merz move
LOCATION - GALLEY
Merz takes the offered treat. Before tasting it she looks it over, feels the texture of the “bread” and sticks one finger into the center to touch the filling. Next she lifts it up and smells it – now that it was completed and steamed Merz wanted a comparison for the databank. Finally she closes her eyes and slides the morsel between her lips. One of her trainers had taught her that it was possible, and sometimes even preferable to allow the body to compensate in this fashion – to shut out one sense and increase another one. In this case she eliminated sight in order to concentrate on the taste and mouth feel of the bao.
Merz’ normal diet, for long years, consisted of plain protein and simple vegetation, contrasted with occasional refresher courses in wilderness survival. The last six months had taught her somewhat that there is more to eating than simple fuel for the body. The last two days have taught her that eating can be pleasurable. And this … cooperative effort in the creation of the bite between her teeth … has taught her a new sensation. The bao itself – its complex combination of flavors and textures – is almost overwhelming. Combined with the knowledge that she had in some small way contributed to it’s creation … she experiences some form of emotional response for which she has no name. Merz slowly masticates the morsel, extracting every bit of sensation she can distinguish, before regretfully swallowing it.
She slowly opens her eyes, to find Rowan and River watching her. Merz just looks at them motionless and expressionless, utterly at a loss for words. She has heard so many words used to describe food. And she has no possible idea what the appropriate response should be.
She wants to speak from her ‘heart’, and does not know how …
EOM
If Justice is the dish, then I am your waitress
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Wash's (monthly) Move:
Location - Bridge
Mal: "Understood. We need to track down as much of the 'hands on' Early may have perpetrated on Serenity. We don't need no more surprises. Mal out."
(Wash turnes to the security screen, brushes a thin layer of dust off of it, and programs it to begin a self-diagnostic, then... back to the map.)
(Time passes, and Wash quietly pores/frets/manically gestures over the map. Then, something happens... something wonderful. A smell, a smell comes wafting onto the bridge... Wash looks over to Rex, and says): "(sniff) That's funny... (Sniff, sniff) Cooking? (Sniff) Don't look now but I think I must be going insane, I think (sniff,SNIFF) i smell... bao? Oh, gods I don't care that we're going to be killed by Cinammon, Saffron, or Basil, as long as she feeds us a last meal first, I'll go quietly"
(Wash starts to get up to investigate, but a chime sounds and on MRFUCSS, a blue light flashes, trying to alert Wash into realizing that the cortex has an incoming live wave wating for him to ... ackowledge and then accept or eat?... Wash looks up from the map with the friendly yellow and red arrows, and muttering to Rex): "I can't even be starvingly psychotically bored in peace, gotta answer Wave, so..." (Wash grabs Rex, and holds him an inch away from the camera pick-up to the cortex moniter, reading that it's from a Neon-class ship. Slight and a med-bag, and a big fuzzy looking blur appear on the screen.)
Slight (quietly over the wave, which Wash, leaning about two inches from the console speaker can barly hear.): "My old ride. It's a rickety old Firefly-class, run by someone called Reynolds. He calls it Serenity. Has something to do with. . ."
Wash as Rex: "Thank god you've called! We've been boarded by fat fleshy two-legged mammals, and we're running out of condiments, Please help us..." (Wash then leans back and lays Rex down, and says): "Oh, hi Slight, sorry about my disguise, but you know how it is... and hey, if Kaylee or Mal hears you call my lady a 'rickety old anything', I can't be held responsible for what ever happens. What can I Do you for?"
On the cortex screen the display reads: 21:00 AMT (09:00 pm). On board the Supposed 'Neon' class ship, deep inside Slight's healing body, his internal clock goes from 20:59 to 21:09... a nanite squigges over to the '9' and gives it a gentel kick, and it rolles over to '0', and all is right again with the world, and the nanite goes back to more important damage.
EOM
Decoy, they make me go first every month, weather I needed to or not.
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Slights move, Supplemental:
Slight turns to see the the wave has been answered. . .by a toy. The toy rattles on, only to be replaced by a shock of blonde hair and blue eyes. It's the pilot. Figures.
"Oh, hi Slight, sorry about my disguise, but you know how it is... and hey, if Kaylee or Mal hears you call my lady a 'rickety old anything', I can't be held responsible for what ever happens. What can I Do you for?"
Slight sighs. This man clearly thinks he's funny. How sad.
Hail, Serenity. I need to speak with the captain. And your sheperd, and your mechanic, and the little girl. I have no problems with you, but I have some news that I think all four will want to hear from me, firsthand. It's about your doctor. . .
Slight winces internally. This is one of the longest days of his life, and it can only get worse.
Wizards Eighth Rule: Deserve Victory
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Rowan's Move
LOCATION: The Galley (yup, still)
Hearing Kaylee rummage about for the means to serve the contents of that cask, Rowan pays closer attention to Merz's reaction.
After very thoroughly tasting the bao, Merz's eyes come slowly open, catching the light as they focus, first on Rowan and then on River. As expected, her face shows no evidence as to her reaction to what must be her first taste of bao. Rowan figures the Troys probably weren't treated to the finer things of life in the 'verse, and bao wasn't exactly normal military fare even in peacetime. Finally, a small line forms between her brows and Rowan can clearly see the confusion in her eyes.
ROWAN: "Don't try to over-analyze, yo mei mei. If it's done right, bao is meant for pure enjoyment."
Reaching out, she runs her hand down Merz's arm hopefully to indicate she understands the other woman's inability to form some description that might sound reasonably poetical. Then she grins and turns to include all the women in the kitchen.
ROWAN: "Ladies, I believe our work is done here. I don't know about you, but I'm definitely ready for a drink."
KAYLEE announces - ”The cabinet is officially open. Ya drink this stuff at your own risk. Let the shindig begin!”
Quickly turning off the stove, Rowan moves out into the dining area and picks up one of the shot glasses Kaylee has so kindly filled. Taking a breath to prepare, she tosses back the first shot and swallows quickly. Fire erupts on the way down, delivering a flavor that combines the influence of the wood in the cask with something that almost tastes like engine fuel smells.
For a second, Rowan can't breathe. Her eyes go completely round, and then on a sharp exhale, she looks at Kaylee.
ROWAN (breathlessly): "Smooth."
She holds her glass under the spigot and since she can't speak, waves at Kaylee in a "keep it coming" fashion.
EOM
Yo mei mei - friend sister
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Xiang's Move:
LOCATION - ORBOROS: Tantalus Shipping Nexus
It makes no sense. He hasn't thought about Damon in months and now the memories seem to be overflowing the floodgates, refusing to be ignored. He should be focusing on the information he was trying to find so Robert could finally work out a plan. Instead he was making himself late by reminiscing about the first moments away from Dis?
And that song. Now that it's stuck in his mind, he'll likely spend the day trying to keep from humming it. Everyone on the station believes he doesn't speak at all. It makes the important people believe he's less of a security risk.
A strange situation for a man who used to enjoy speaking in front of a room full of students.
“Did you ever think about what you would do if you were free?”
Free. The Independents came together to make men free. Look how that turned out.
EOM
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He awoke with a start, taking in everything, then he remembered, the woman, his dead companions... and the casket.
Arms stretching out he checks course, he should be nearing the key soon, a few days, a week at most, the signal it resinated, was getting distinctly stronger, soon he would have it, and then he would have the weapon of the Blue Sun, the mysterious casket, heavy piece of Go se. It was worth it though, they wouldn't have sent his team were it not.
The ship begins making an annoying little beeping noise, glancing over the ship is telling him there is another ship... no wait... two ship nearby, in fact, both in his direct path. he sets the ship to slow, as such the other ships seem to be having difficulties. Letting his own ship stop propulsion for now, this was an annoyance but a tolerable one, for now he would wait and see what happens as he floats towards them slowly.
Everyone has their weaknesses. Some people smoke, I collect stuffed penguins, if you don't tell I won't.
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INTERLUDE ~ A fight seen from a different viewpoint.
(Those who forget the past are doomed to have to go back through the threads and find it...)
She is behind a screen lifting weights, when she first hears the quiet sounds beyond the door. There are intruders. Good, she could use the workout.
Making no noise she carefully sets down her equipment, flicks off the tiny red illumination that her quarters are fitted with, and quickly slinks out into the dark of the main room. Positioned between the only door, and the only object in the room beside her, Shelby waits motionless for the intruders to show themselves. No need to pick up her weapons - what she needs is ever with her.
Whoever is fiddling the lock is good - not that it was much of a lock at that. Somewhere along the line, someone had decided that the best way to conceal this particular cargo was by misdirection. A depressed neighborhood. A simple lock. And, for at least the last six months - Shelby. Whoever was here before she does not know, does not care. Place smelled like a combo between a brothel and a barracks when she arrived. Now, smells only of herself.
Dark outside. Dark inside. When the door opens neither side can see each other. Shelby takes the time to suss out her opponents before any illumination is used. She uses her senses for data. Three - males. One a fairly average specimen scents slightly of excitement only, along with gun oil and propellant; movement indicates normal reflexes. They enter quickly and ease the door shut. The second man smells odd. Human but ... not right, nothing she has sensed before, nothing in the database. He is also armed with a solid projectile weapon; reflexes seem unusually swift. He is excited, tense and - worried.
Silently she stretches, tenses and relaxes muscles, preparing. Confident they can neither see nor sense her. They are still in the doorway, fumbling for the light - the one she never uses. She closes her eyes - ears and other senses alert, so as not to be caught by the change in illumination. Shelby has a quick recovery anyway, but never take chances.
The third man - he bothers her. He smells of meat, of blood, of sweat but no emotional content at all. He also smells of metal, mingled oddly with his human scents. His movements are strange, abnormal. She can hear ... clicking, creaking ... machine noises... ? Quick, but ... he is just ... wrong. Shelby does not care for the feeling of unease deep inside her mind and bowels. She does not care for feeling ... anything.
The leader has found the light switch and light floods the room. Shelby eases open eyes and waits for them to notice her. Better effect that way. Shelby does not bother to add their appearance to the data already in her mind - once she has disposed of the intruders it will not be necessary to remember them.
She knows she has been seen when the two in front do a classic double take, eyes wide. The third man cannot be easily read - half of his face is missing and the other half shows nothing. She inhales and expands - muscles rippling. She is wearing a cotton tank top and shorts - both came with her to this place. She has all but outgrown them in the intervening interval - so there is very little left to the imagination. Her height is perhaps a bit above average (she is tall for a female of her ... team) but she gives a sense of greater size then her height can account for. Perhaps a combination of presence and bulk.
They seem impressed. She catches their eyes and speaks, badly. Has probably spoken only once or twice in half a cycle - voice does not want to work. Her body's failure angers her and colors her words. "You. Leave! NOW!"
Their reactions are swift, practiced. Not with each other, she notices. They draw their weapons and wheel to one side, and the one in front unintentionally fouls the aim of his companion as they shift. She pulls her own guns from behind her back and the ini
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