Lost Boys - A Warning
Lost Boys - A Warning
Summary: Kastile arrives as 'Mr. Grey' to talk to the pilots.
Date: 118 ACH - 03/11/2009
Related Logs: Peerless logs.


Research Peerless - Deck 15

118 ACH 23777 Souls

The Peerless, a science research vessel, has set up this area for hydroponics and growing. The dome above, allows the suns light from those in space to convert warmth in optimum degrees for the variety of plants stored here.

Contents: Jax Kastile Micah Phelan Sloane

Exits: [CO] Corridor


Phelan nods and looks back to Jax, "sure. Let me know when you're ready to head back down and I'll go with. Whatever I don't know maybe you can teach me." he continues to slowly eat the food provided, enjoying each bite just incase he doesn't have this luxury for long. "I still like knowing our Vipers are all in working order, and we can use them if we need to. At least we should see about getting them onboard the peerless."

Sloane is sleepy, but awake. Laying on a hospital gurney with his leg slightly raised and wrapped in the bandages and brace that are healing his broken left leg, he eyeballs the conversation silently."Well…I'm not flying out of here, that's for frakking sure…" he says, letting out a deep breath.

Jax is sitting in a little pow-wow with the other Genesis 'guests', each scarfing down a plate of food and when Jax drinks his coffee like its the best damn thing he's tasted in ages. They're tucked into a corner of sick bay, under the protection of Gosling and her cohorts. "Yeah, if we can get the Peerless up and running, its just a matter of tugging our ships on board. It'll be easier to get this heap through the asteroid belt than five individual ships." While he talks, he drains his cup, the refills it from the carafe Gosling provided and is offering it up towards Sloane.

The hatch area opens, spitting out a well-dressed individual. "Ah. Visitors." His speech well-honed to that of some upper crust Caprican. The fine gold watch is checked, "I see I am late for lunch." A drift of his gaze is sent to Gosling and her Cohorts <tm>. With a movement of his wrist, he sends them packing right quick. "Go find our guests some more coffee."

Micah is barely even chewing his food. It's pretty much just going down the hatch along with his coffee, the pilot not even sparing a glance for those he's conversing with. Presumably someone's set down food for Sloane, too: breakfast seems to consist of eggs and toast (fried bread for Micah) and steaming cups of coffee. "Aye, Rhodes, agreed on getting the vipers onto this ship. But we can't spare the parts to fix 'em up right now, I want everything goin' into the Peerless' engines, and any hull breaches she's got-" He does pause, and lift his eyes when Kastile walks in. And then proceeds to run his tongue along his teeth silently, cleaning food away while he considers the new arrival.

Sloane makes a small profile as Kastile enters. With his broken leg, he's the dead weight and the most disposable of the crashed pilots. Taking up his fork, he dips it into the food after acknowledging the entrance of the new person. Silently, he starts to take his breakfast.

Jax straightens up a bit when Kastile enters, as if trying to break himself out of food lethargy. If he can send people off skittering, he's note worthy in this little messed up heirarchy.

Kastile continues toward the grouping, "I'm sorry I didn't make it down earlier, but I have been otherwise…occupied," a flash of bright, even teeth is given to those here. "I'm Mr. Grey." Noticing the look of Micah and the others, "I hope you have been treated well? Dr. Tak is one of the best." A glance goes over to Sloane with a slight tsking sound at his injury.

Phelan sets his plate down as he finishes the meal and looks Kastile over. "And what is your role here Mr. Grey?"

Micah doesn't seem to think much of Mr. Fancypants, if his expression's any indication. He doesn't sit up straighter, if anything he slouches a bit more. Not a word's said.

Sloane looks to Kastile as the tsking sound reaches his ears. Nodding to the man, he takes another bite of the food and then sets his fork down. Deciding this isn't the kind of man that wants people to eat while he talks, he gives the man his attention. "She's a very good Doctor, Mr. Grey."

Jax flashes a glance to Phelan, who seems to have the tact of sharp stick sometimes. He lifts his now empty plate in sort of a wordless thanks to this Grey fellow. Seems they're getting fed, and no one's had to drop the soap yet, so they're doing just fine.

Kastile indicates himself, with a partially wide-eyed look, "Me? Oh, I'm the fashion consultant here. Plus, I make sure the coffee is served. I guess you could say I am your Host for this little party you fell into." Another flash of a smile to the group.

"Ta," Micah offers after a moment, keeping his eyes down and his elbows resting on bent knees. "For the coffee, and the food. Goin' to see about gettin' your engines working again, if you don't mind lettin' Miller in there for a look."

Phelan licks at his teeth for a moment and nods, "So whats the pricetag for all of the hospitality you're providing us Mr. Grey? What are your plans if we get this boat back up in the air?"

Jax raises a finger in the 'I'm Miller' type gesture. But for the moment, he stays silent, letting Micah do the talking. He takes another crust of bread, wiping at his empty plate to make sure he got all the yolk off of it. If Phelan's going to get them shot, he's going to die with a full stomach, dammit.

Sloane watches the exchange in silence. The four hundred pound gorilla in the room is fairly evident. Chewing the side of his lip a little bit, he watches Micah reference Jax and then looks back in Kastile's direction, waiting for the first bombs to be dropped.

Kastile slides his hands in his pockets as he regards the group before him, "I'm a simple man. My crew and I are simple people. No one wants to be left to die." His head dips slightly, regarding Phelan, "We've unfortunately been slotted in that area. We want off here as well as anyone else and a ship." The hand comes out of his pocket as he indicates the one they are on. "You get it up in the air, you get to return home."

Micah slants Phelan a sidelong look, somewhat unreadable, before looking back to Kastile. "Figure we can help you out with that. Figure you also won't last two days out there, without the protection of the fleet. You want to give that some thought?" Coffee still in hand, he's pushing to his feet now, so that he's not craning his neck to regard the well-dressed man. As for clothing, he's still wearing a flight suit, stripped down to the waist and tied off there.

"That would be our choice to make. You say you have a fleet, but, we only see four of you," Kastile pauses with a tap of a finger to his lips, "Or is that five?" The smile is flashed again. "With your so-called fleet, we would have no choices, now would we?" His hands slide back into his pockets.

Phelan says calmly, "So, what happens if we don't get your engines up and running?" he looks over to Micah, "What was the classification of this vessel? Under who's command was it placed under?"

Jax leans back against the bulkhead, not liking the subtleties that are going along with this conversation. "Problem lies in that I don't know if you have what I need to fix your engines. We may have to have some parts dropped in." From the Fleet. Yes, the fleet. Suck it up, Mr. Grey, they have friends.

Micah's not really good with subtleties, or roundabout threats, if that is indeed what's coming from Kastile. But he does know a ponce when he sees one, and that's the kind of assessment he seems to be making of this 'Mr. Grey'. A ponce. "Depends what kind of impression you feel like makin'," he explains, in regards to having no choice. "Figure there's compromises can be done on both sides, since we need one another, aye?"

"A science vessel, under the command of Captain Gustav Schusteau," Kastile answers Phelan in his own calm and even voice. "As you can see it has hydroponics and enough to keep us alive for awhile. So the next time you decide to contact your fleet, make sure you don't say the wrong thing there boys. We're all just one big happy family down here and ready to help you out with anything you need." He eyes Jax now, "Just make sure they realize what you are up against, Mr. Miller. I dislike being a bad host, but sometimes it is necessary." He simply smiles back to Micah.

Jax stacks his plate with the other empty ones, working at his back teeth like something has gotten stuck in his craw. Hands are wiped off on the pants of his flightsuit, "The only thing I'm up against is a bitch of an engine that needs a good frak to stop her whining and start working again." All the politics? That's left for brass.

"Speakin' of that engine, sooner we get a look at it, sooner we can figure out what we'll need to get it running again. Give me an update in an hour, yeah?" Micah flits his eyes from Kastile, to Jax, with a significant look to indicate that /now/ would be good. Then back to the ponce, "We've got a battlestar waitin' up there for us, with some nice big guns, mate. You want to start makin' threats, we can play that game, but I figure you'll lose. So, we can talk about this man to man, or we can dance around it and waste time. But ah'll tell you now, ah've got two left feet and never was no good at dancing."

Phelan nods to Micah and looks back to Kastile, "Perhaps you should go check and see how that coffee is coming? Give us a bit to check on our injured flyboy and then we can have a civilized conversation?"

Kastile doesn't dance, atleast not with men. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he removes a clear packet with a set of LTJG pins and the bloody little finger. He tosses it on top of the stack of food plates. "I'll up your big guns with a piece of your pilot. Now, we're even. Don't frak with me, Lieutentant. Just do your job and you'll get off this planet without more loss of body parts." He ignores Phelan now.

Jax blanches just a bit. Roz? Shit. She probably /liked/ that finger attached to her. He pushes up from his seat, using a hand on the bulkhead to help propel him to his feet. "Just point me in the right direction." And hopefully, you know. Give him an escort so he doesn't get buggered or shanked on the way to it.

Phelan lips press firmly together and he lifts off the spot spot he was leaning against and takes a step towards Kastile, winding up to swing at him. "mother frakker! You don't touch our people and expect to get away with it."

<Trait Roll> Micah rolls Willpower and achieves a degree of Fair (3).

<Opposed Roll> Phelan - Unarmed_Combat versus Kastile - Unarmed_Combat

<Roll1> Phelan: Good <Roll2> Kastile: BeyondTerrible

<Result> Phelan WINS by 5.

<Trait Roll> Micah rolls Agility and achieves a degree of Great (5).

Well, Micah's rarely one to turn down a bit of violence, especially when it's one of his friends and squadmates on the line. But someone's got to be the voice of better judgement here, and the boy certainly knows how to move fast when he needs to. There's a scuffle of boots as he sees Phelan go for that swing, and he attempts to haul him off with a barked, "Back the frak down, Rhodes."

<Opposed Roll> Micah - Strength versus Phelan - Strength

<Roll1> Micah: Fair <Roll2> Phelan: Mediocre

<Result> Micah WINS by 1.

Kastile takes the hit, whether he knew it was coming or not. His reaction time is lost on Jax leaving and as his head turns back around, WHAM! The fist connects with his jaw and he goes back like one of those toppled clowns, only he doesn't pop back up for another hit. His body hits the tiled deck and that new suit helps him slide across the floor until he stops cold against the wall.

Phelan goes to move after Kastile however Micah is on him, trying to stop him. "The frakker took her FINGER off.. Sure, the bitch didn't know when to shut up.. but you don't frak with our people and hand around our parts like they're souveniers."

Nope, Micah's got a lock — however tentative — on the smaller pilot, and he doesn't look inclined toward releasing him. It's a bit of a struggle dragging him back and off the downed Kastile, but he's determined. "Gee, thanks for the memo, Sherlock," he hisses between his teeth, "Now back the frak off, or ah'll put you down myself for disobeying orders." He shoots a glance to the be-suited Mr. Grey, though can't really get a good sense of whether the man's still conscious what with having his hands full at the moment.

<Trait Roll> Micah rolls Awareness and achieves a degree of Fair (3).

Phelan shrugs Micah off him and moves away.. from Micah and Mr Finger. "Fine, play nice while they slowly take parts off of Rox. This is your show." he takes the finger and tags and tries to find some ice to put it in, just incase.

<Opposed Roll> Phelan - Strength versus Micah - Strength

<Roll1> Phelan: Great <Roll2> Micah: Good

<Result> Phelan WINS by 1.

<Trait Roll> Micah rolls Willpower and achieves a degree of Great (5).

The hatch opens about that time and those outside are coming inside. Four of them. And they are all armed. Sets of eyes go to Kastile and then over to the ones in the corner as Micah works to hold off another one. It's rather clear what has happened here. Guns rise up and the sound of multiple clicks are heard as they level on them. Two move over to check out Kastile and see if he is still conscious.

Oh, Rhodes is really lucky Micah's having a good day. Really damned lucky. He got eggs and toast and real coffee for breakfast, that's got to count for something. The goons that come tumbling back in with their guns cocked at the pair? Not so good. Micah knows the drill, he grits his teeth together and lifts his hands, fierce eyes turned from Phelan, to Kastile over on the floor there. Not. Happy.

Phelan looks around the room for some ice, "God dammit, where the hell do they keep ice in this place. Cold water even?" he looks back and notices the goons, "Either of you know where there is some ice? And I'm just curious.. which of you thinks they can run this place better than the boss on the floor, I'm pretty sure that starting a fight with a battlestar won't go good for the man at the helm and his lackeys, especially on the course he's putting you on. Might want to think about that. We can help each other.. and you can take care of yourselves for a change, instead of following his lead."

Kastile is coming around slowly, but his jaw is going to hurt like hell for awhile. It possibly has a hairline fracture, which isn't good. As he is helped up slowly, to lean on the wall behind him, his vision is a little whacked out too. Reaching two fingers up to his bleeding lip and then taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he puts it to the area. His voice is slurred now, "Bind him." Those other two step forward with a slow grin as one kicks a rolly chair over. "Sit."

Micah lowers his hands slowly, as the goons with guns focus on Rhodes instead. His attention's trained on Kastile now, and he still looks like he wants to put his fist in someone. "That little frakhead's under my command. And he's goin' to have some sense knocked into 'im, but it in't goin' to be by you. So." He steps closer, attempting to interpose himself between his pilot, and the pair with the rolly chair. "If you want to take a swing or two, you take it at me, get it out of your system, and then we'll talk about this like civilised people, aye? And Rhodes, if you so much as open your mouth without asking, ah'm goin' to let these boys have their merry little way with whatever body parts they feel like takin' for souveniers."

Phelan continues his search around the room while Micah imposes himself in the large goon's path, he sighs unable to find anything so he just holds onto the items for now. Turning back to face the goons over Micah's shoulder.

Kastile watches Micah closely and then after a few, long tense moments, he waves the two men off. "Iss your head, nest time…" the man warns Micah. Leaving the two in the room with those here, he begins making his way out with the other two. Something is said quietly as they leave the area and the hatch closes behind them.

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