A Defiant 'Verse - In Character

POSTED BY: Defiant2thelast
UPDATED: Thursday, July 23, 2009 08:49
VIEWED: 32764
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DEFIANT2THELAST

Saturday, June 27, 2009 2:29 AM

The negotiation was like any other business transaction Nathan had been apart of. Numbers were changed, points were argued and everything remained basically the same as he had laid it out. The customer then usually walked out, presumably to wrap up any business in the port, and would probably be seen in a few hours before they took off.

Ainslie didn’t.

Whatever, she’d paid up for the month anyway, what she did with the shuttle now was her problem. Nathan walked out of the shuttle and made his way into the mess.

Nathan hadn’t realized how long the bartering had actually taken. Yes, he’d expected it, but it always seemed rather off afterwards. Most of the crew had dispersed recently, Nathan observed from the mugs in the sink. He continued making his way to his rack.

Nathan’s room actually spanned two of the forward rooms on the starboard side, and served as his office. Entrance was only possible through the hatch closest to the cockpit, as the other had been welded shut.

Several filing cabinets adorned the wall to his right as Nathan entered. In the middle of the room was his wooden desk, with the usual muddle of papers askew in every direction upon it. Beyond that a curtain obscured view of the rest of his quarters.

Nathan brushed aside the cloth divider that separated his office from his bunk, and reached for the message on the night stand that he’d got from his contact the other day, before slumping into the char behind his desk. The cloth gracefully drifted back into its original position. Nathan read through the message again, and again. He expected Lincoln would come soon.

Lincolnz: I'll have an explosion in my pants pocket when I get a text message now

MESHAKHAD

Sunday, June 28, 2009 6:44 PM

"Pleasure doing business with you, ma'am," the scrap dealer said.

After all Mei had been through, it was nice to run into someone like that.

She wandered throughout the spaceport. She didn't want to return to the Brownfleet just yet. Maybe she could get a position on a ship here...

Her eyes settled on a Firefly called "DEFIANT". Surely they would have room for someone with her skills. She sauntered over.

But... FOR THE LOVE OF EXPLOSIVES!

ADDITIONALPYLON

Sunday, June 28, 2009 9:43 PM

Moe huffed out his irritation, his hands rifling—fruitlessly—through masses of sunburned outfits, old, scruffy hardback anthologies and assorted sundries, impatience bulging within like an abscess. Bull! Some thirsty bastard must've nabbed it when I'sn't payin' attention. God this place is FOUL!

Quote:
"You... uh... missing anything outta there, Mister?"

He tilted his head up at her, dull eyes saying 'D'uh, good eye, genius!', until they locked on the decidedly familiar tin flask she held in her hand, at which point his dense brows arched, then snapped together. He pulled his hands away from the disemboweled backpack and stood up, his face a stony and inscrutable mask. "Say, how'd this here item come to be in your possession?" he wordily inquired, a touch of tart amusement in his tone. She hadn't struck him the type to dip her fingers into strangers' pockets.

SHADESIREN

Sunday, June 28, 2009 10:29 PM

Shade figured out which item he meant fairly easily, and, pocketing the rest, she held the flask out to him. “Seems some smart pickpocket thought it must be valuable – saw him hit your down near – 94?” She referred to the nearest docking slip to the intersection she’d seen him at. “Think that was it. Was gonna break his pigu, but wasn’t worth the trouble. No fun beating up the defenseless.” She stated it matter of factly, with the faintest note of disappointment. Pickpockets were all too often not worth the trouble – Shade had had to change her standards from size-based to age-based just to reconcile with her own un-acknowledged code of honor. “Was hoping to catch up with ya, but I only saw the pack.” She gestured with the end of the flask, still offering it to him.

She noticed the approach of a young woman, but only in the sense of noticing someone no longer moving with the crowd, but through it, and in this direction. Shade didn’t really pay much attention to it at the moment, her eyes on his face instead.

MESHAKHAD

Sunday, June 28, 2009 10:51 PM

This wouldn't be easy. Mei had never worked on a ship apart from the Cavanaugh. She had gone through a partial change in crew before. After the Cavanaugh had joined the Independents, a third of the adults and all of the children had left. They - the adults, at least - were replaced by new personnel assigned by command. It had taken a while for everyone to adjust.

But there, Mei was part of the old crew. Now she would be in the position of one of the new crewmembers, having to learn her way around a new ship, meet all her new crewmates, and fit in to an existing crew structure.

There was one other thing to consider. Aboard the Cavanaugh, whether as a civilian salvage boat or a military minelayer, Mei could trust everyone. This would not necessarily be true aboard a Firefly.

She approached the crew outside her ship. By now, her scars were quite visible.

"You hiring?" she asked.

But... FOR THE LOVE OF EXPLOSIVES!

YINYANG

Monday, June 29, 2009 6:35 AM

Back in the shuttle again, Ainsley examined her new home for a while. Sleeping on that cot was hardly a pleasant option, and neither was resting in the piloting chair; she’d have to do something about that, sooner rather than later. Which brought about the problem of how to transport it. She’d managed to get her bags to her hotel without fuss when she’d arrived, but the furnishing of the shuttle would take a great deal more hands. Perhaps she could convince someone on this ship to help her.

A desk would be nice, too – sturdy, with a good lock, for all her important items, like her hand-held computer. It would fit well near the screen embedded in one of the shuttle’s walls. She already had a small rug, but at least one large rug was probably needed to pad the floor and keep away the cold. And something for the walls, although she wasn’t sure what...

She prioritized her list of items, bedding at the top of said list, then left the shuttle. Moving on the catwalk, she realized that she didn’t know much about the layout of Fireflies. If she found Bargara, he could show her around.

Not seeing him - or anyone else - Ainsley sighed. "O, zhe zhen shi ge kuaile de jinzhan," she muttered sarcastically. "Hello? Anyone around?"

LINCOLNZ

Monday, June 29, 2009 6:48 PM

Lincoln passed the stairs he'd come down and headed in a forward direction, intending to see if the Captain was still negotiating with the renter. He also needed to run a diagnostic of the ships undocking mechanisms well in advance of departure. That damned left fuel coupling gave them trouble sometimes, on most ships it was a quick and simple replacement, on a Firefly it was a surprisingly annoying and complex job. He'd never been able to fix it and neither had Bucket. The captain wouldn't pay for the inconvenient but non-vital work, so it like many other issues, set awaiting a more skilled mechanic's hand.

The cargo bay was silent except for his faintly echoing footfalls as he crossed the expanse to the far stairs. Numerous crates and various containers, both marked and unmarked, set about in roughly organized fashion. The aft starboard corner was set up with lockers, benches and a weight set for crew usage. As he passed under the lower walk bridging the rear stairs of the hold, he heard someone above.

"Hello? Anyone around?" the voice said, not very loudly.

"Yeah." He said and looked up to see Ainsley leaning over the catwalk railing. "What's the need?"

As he looked up he'd noticed movement through the small window of the cargo bay doors.

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"Progress doesn't come from early risers — progress is made by lazy men looking for easier ways to do things." Robert A. Heinlein

SHADESIREN

Tuesday, June 30, 2009 4:38 AM

“Was hoping to catch up with ya, but I only saw the pack.” She gestured with the end of the flask, still offering it to him.

Mei approached the crew outside her ship. By now, her scars were quite visible.

"You hiring?" she asked.

Shade looked up, the flask still proffered in her hand. She arched an eyebrow at the woman, and looked back at Pack Man. “Guess that’s the 50 million credit question, now, ain’t it?”

With her back currently to the airlock door, she didn’t notice the movement inside. She’d noticed the scars on the girl – impressive, but it had the look of victim scars, not battle wounds. She could be wrong – what with the war, scars were getting harder to define. Might be something exploded other than an engine, nowadays. Shade didn’t approve of war, necessarily. Was way more fun to fight with people one on one for personal reasons. War just took all the fun out of violence.

She gave Pack Man a bit of a wry smile, “Look, I rescued it from a skinny kid, figured I’d return it if I ever got the chance.” Civility – that’s what she’d forgotten. “My name’s Shade.” She tipped her head toward Scarred Girl, “Not sure if yer ship’d got room, but looks like ya got no shortage of applicants.”

Shade wanted to go; NOW. She didn’t like competition just walkin’ up and interrupting her game, but she knew they woman had no idea what they’d been discussing. Just bad timing. Add to that no idea what sort of position she might be applying for, she still felt it was better moving on.

A nasty impulse spurred her, and without really intending to say anything, she heard herself say, “Actually, I know fer a fact guy next slip over is looking for some service – the Wednesday. Might be offering what yer lookin’ for.” She almost felt bad turning the girl in fat man’s direction, but the scars brought up another point. Fat man might not hit on her that way. Almost enough to make Shade jealous.

YINYANG

Thursday, July 2, 2009 1:28 AM

"Yeah." Bargara appeared, seemingly from nowhere. "What's the need?"

"I want a tour of the ship," Ainsley replied. "Also, if there are any other crew members about, I was interested in having them help me with some errands I need to run. They'd be well-compensated."

She waited for Bargara's response before moving again. It occurred to her, looking around the cargo bay, that she was probably going to be going up and down a lot of stairs during her time here. In that case, she added a pair of sturdier shoes to her shopping list - she hadn't really thought ahead when she had packed her things.

Hell, she hadn't really thought ahead at all. She'd certainly never expected to be on be on board a Firefly, with a crew of people she hardly knew, in search of Alliance secrets.

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CELESTIA

Sunday, July 5, 2009 12:07 AM

"Three Hills… huge battle." The first mate's words bounced around inside Jackie's head, and she felt that old familiar sick migraine threatening to return. She reached down for her suitcase, lifting it with a grunt, and flopped it down onto her undressed cot.

She hated the war, hated the waste and the misery, but understood the need to fight for independence. Understood it enough to have joined the battle not so long ago.

Having opened the battered case, she rummaged through piles of clothing hastily packed in her rush to outrun Flinders' men. Then she found what she was searching for.

The smooth hard metal frame eased her tension like a sedative. Gently, she lifted out the 8 x 10 hologram and gazed down at the image of her slightly younger self in a stiff nurse's cap, Sgt. Danny Holliday beside her in his plain brown coat, rifle at his side.

This wasn't a picture of smiling newlyweds. They'd already tasted the bitter dregs of death and destruction by the time this holo was made. Instead, they gazed into the camera with hope in their eyes, mouths set in grim determination, her arm around his waist, his around her shoulders.

She placed it on a self beside her cot where she could look at it before turning in. He'd be happy she was leaving Beylix.

She sighed and stooped to pick up her medical bag, then headed for the infirmary.

Conveniently, it wasn't far from her bunk. She turned on the lights as she entered the space, about half the size of her own clinic and well lit. She set her bag on a counter, relieved to find it relatively clean, and proceeded to open drawers and make inspections.

None of the equipment was state of the art, but it was solid classic stuff. The heart monitor had been well maintained, as had the diagnostic ultra-sonar, and the plasmatic defibrillators. She found an old model molecuscope and plenty of antibiotics that weren't too long past expiration to still be useful.

She was pleased. The Defiant appeared to have all the standard equipment and supplies necessary for basic exams, routine care, and typical emergency operations.

Behind her came the sound of someone clearing their throat.

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