Meeting the Natives
Meeting the Natives
Summary: Rhea meets Paris and Nicholas on the Destiny.
Date: 88 ACH
Related Logs: Related Logs (Say None if there aren't any; don't leave blank)
Players:
Rhea..Nicholas..Paris..

Docking Bay Destiny - Deck 6
88 ACH 23817 Souls


The Destiny's docking bay had the ability to hold up to a dozen shuttles at a time, before the attacks. Since then, space is a priority. Crates are stacked everywhere, and people bustle to and fro, loading/unloading cargo or simply waiting for their shuttle.

Shuttles land on an outer deck, open to space, and taxi into large hangar airlocks. From there, they are towed into the docking bay proper by small service vehicles. There are also several airlocks with jetway mechanisms that allow docking with other larger vessels and spaceports. Around the top of the expansive area, an upper level allows visitors to walk or jog for exercise, or simply watch the action.


Rhea disembarks one of the shuttles, in coveralls and armed with an engineering kit. She sets it down to stretch, working out the kinks she developed on the ride over, taking a long look around the place. Observing the comings and goings of the shuttles and people.

Nicholas has just come off a shuttle himself, standing in the docking bay and having a word with a few people similarly dressed in civilian clothing. A couple of heads turn to look as a military Major steps onto their deck, some conversations here and there hushing carefully. Observe, the soldier out of its natural habitat. Does it bite?

<Trait Roll> Rhea rolls Willpower and achieves a degree of Good (4).

Rhea doesn't exactly announce her Major status. It's hard to tell in the work gear, aside from the pins she wears. She notes the hushing and staring. It earns a snort, a roll of her eyes, and a smirk. She gets out of the way of shuttle traffic but doesn't hurry out of the bay. She sets her engineering kit down and digs a folded piece of paper out of her coverall pockets, unfolding it to review the scribbled notes written on it. No biting, manner casual. Don't mind her.

At least nobody's poking her with sticks. The group that Nicholas is standing with has noticed her now, and someone taps him on the shoulder, pointing over that way. Some muttering goes on in the little circle that makes him laugh, and he waves them off with a graceful motion of his fingers. Turning around, his arms stay folded as he meanders at leisurely pace towards Rhea, raising an eyebrow. "Can I help you?"

Supply_184 arrives from Grid Alpha.
Supply_184 zooms by overhead.

[Supply_184: Paris] A boxy shuttle flies into the bay. It hovers a few moments, and then slowly lowers toward it's designated landing spot, settling with a heavy metallic clunk. The thing sits there for a little while, silent, before the front hatch pops open, boarding ramp extending. And then, out comes the pilot.

Supply_184 comes in for a landing.
Paris climbs out of Supply_184.
Paris has arrived.

Rhea's eyes flit up from her paper. To Nicholas. Eyebrow arched. She looks him up and down, in an assessing sort of way. "Maybe. I'm supposed to meet with your head engineer. A Ms. Lawton. I think I'm early, though. Was just taking a minute to review some particulars." Her scratch paper looks rather like a to-do list, scrawled in ChEng-ese. "I take it you crew here, in some capacity?"

"As opposed to lounge about uselessly, you mean?" Nicholas' accent, though he consciously tones it down, is exactly the same as Rhea's. It would take someone from Sagittaron to recognise that the cadence is even from the same area. "Yes, I work here." He smirks and twists around, unfolding one arm and lofting his hand to point off towards a corridor. "Lawton's lair is that way, through the fire doors at the end and down a single flight."

Once the cargo shuttle has landed and the hatch opened, Paris emerges from within. He hangs in the frame a moment, hands gripping the upper edge, and looks out over the deck before descending, boots clomping on the catwalk down. Although he apparently spots the pair talking, and knows one of them - throwing Nick a wave - he doesn't bother them, but rather heads around to the back side of the vessel to check some things. A few moments later, a section of the rear lower hull lowers to provide access to the cargo bay. Someone is here to meet him with a cargo sled, and they spend a few moments talking.

"I don't know. I've met a crewman in my time whose main skillset appears to be slacking. Glad you've got a higher function." Rhea's tone is decidedly dry. Her ears perk at the accent. She certainly recognizes it. Her gaze, if possible, sharpens. "Care to show me the way, Mister…?" She leaves it hanging, waiting for him to supply a name. She doesn't notice Paris among the other traffickers knocking around the bay. She's not angled right to catch the wave, and it's aimed at Nicholas besides.

Nicholas smiles Paris' way, lifting a hand and wiggling the fingers. His attention stays on the open docking bay a few moments, then his startlingly light eyes look back at Rhea. "Luma." He moves his arm to get a look at his watch. "Well. Yes, I suppose I could navigate for you. You'll want to avoid the lava traps and the springloaded bed of nails they installed. Tends to be so messy getting brain matter out of your hair."

Rhea cracks a slight crooked grin, chuckling. "I'm from Aera Cura, Mister Luma. I've seen worse. You from the southern continent, I take it?" It's clear he's a Sag, so she goes straight into the obscure geographical references. She hefts her engineering kit, ready to follow him. "Rhea Zimmermann." She keeps her own intro short.

The cargo folks continue talking for a little while, and then apparently the loading and unloading gets underway. This, however, is not part of Paris' job description, and he leaves the other man to it. Stretching, and then scratching an itch, he seems to ponder the freedom he's earned with a job well-done. The man ambles under his ship, re-appearing on the other side, nearer to where Nick is meeting with the engineer. He apparently doesn't mind just barging in, "Genesis send us some professional help, this time?"

"Nicholas." The young man offers his first name finally, since the engineer has chosen to put herself into his hopefully capable hands. Ho ho. The mention of the city has a dark blond brow arching up. "Aera Cura? You don't say. So am I. I didn't think the powers that be would see fit to plague the fleet with two of us, imagine that." He starts to walk, but pauses as Paris' voice comes up behind them and turns back to give the man a smile. "Oh I do hope so. A real life engineer, I think. She walks like one, anyway. Toolbelt swagger and all." He gives Rhea a knowing smirk.

"Well, cockroaches are impossible to kill, as I recall," Rhea replies to Nicholas with a smirk. "Anyone from that city'd inherit some of their traits. I'm sure it's worked into my DNA. What part of that place are you…?" But talk of home sweet home trails off as Paris barges in. She turns to regard him, offering him a short nod. She looks quite pleased to be so obvious an engineer. "That's the general idea. And, yes, I'm an snipe by trade. I clank when I walk and everything. You on the tech crew here? I'm supposed to meet with your Ms. Lawton about your recent fritz."

Maybe she really does have that toolbelt swagger, or maybe Paris just caught a bit of their chatter. But either way, he seems certain of the fact even before he asks, and nods when she confirms it. This is not to say that he treats her quite as amiably as Nicholas. There's a little suspicion there. Her question gets a shake of his head in reply, but he clarifies in a way that makes her not-quite-wrong either: "Pilot." He jerks his thumb at the bucket behind them. "But I did my own repair work for a while, so I know a thing or two." The many pockets of his cargo pants seem stuffed with a variety of things, some of them possibly tools. "Not professionally trained like Nick 'ere, though. But that's good. Nice if we don't get stranded again next time we jump."

Nicholas hmpfs at the further talk of Aera Cura. "Yes. Unfortunate, that." Whether he's talking about the stranded thing or about his and Rhea's shared home city, who knows. "This way." His hand makes a colourful flip towards the hallway he'd indicated earlier and he starts off with a breezy sweep. Paris seems included in the invitation. It's a short walk, after all.

"That's the notion, aye," Rhea replies to Paris, as to not getting stranded again. If she picks up on his suspicion, she lets it roll off her without much reaction one way or another. "DRADIS is easy to throw off. Most finicky bitch of a piece of equipment on a ship. But, it'll get sussed." She falls into step after Nicholas, following as he leads. Eyeing him up and down again. Skeptically. "You're an engineer?" Her gaze goes to his hands. Double-taking. Still looking skeptical.

Paris shrugs at Nick but falls into step behind them, for the moment. Bored, may as well see what's up. "Nick's just full of interesting tricks and surprises," he throws in as she questions the other man, chuckling to himself. OF course, he leaves the other man to explain in full, not his job to spill the beans.

"Oh dear. The lady doubts." Nicholas comments to Paris. "Not that someone from a place like Aera Cura wearing Colonial Major pins has any room to succumb to stereotypes." He looks back at Rhea. "I was. Past tense." He fishes a security card from his pocket, swiping it into some slot on the wall and opening the fire door.

"Forgive my skepticism. You didn't look greasy enough for snipe work," Rhea replies to Nicholas. "Past-tense? That's a shame. Fleet needs skilled techs right now, all around. What's your current vocation?" She steps back to give him room to swipe at the door, waiting for it to open. To Paris, she nods. "Seems that he is."

For some reason, the whole line of conversation seems to amuse Paris. "If you'd worn the shirt you got greasy tearing the Cloudburster apart, maybe she'd have an easier time believing you?" The two are clearly well-acquainted, and some of this amusement may come in the form of in-jokes between the pair. "A Major, huh? That's pretty high." Apparently, he doesn't read rank pins, or quite know where on the ladder it is, just that it's high. "Surprised you're over here handling this yourself. Don't have minions to send?" The surprise might contain a seed of greater respect, though, since she's at least willing to come and get dirty. When she asks about the other man's present employment, he can't hold in a laugh.

"That shirt will never forgive me." Nicholas lets off a long-suffering sigh that echoes all through the drab stairwell as he starts leading them down the flight of steps. To Rhea he comments, "Business. Events coordinator for this place and that. And honestly, Major Zimmermann, I must point out the irony that had I been over there serving the Navy several days ago, the Destiny might still be gone."

"Don't recall saying anything about the Navy," Rhea replies wryly. "The way I hear it, you lot on this ship don't take kindly to recruiters. I'm just here to work. Am curious why you aren't teching for your engineering section here. But, that's Ms. Lawton's affair, not mine. You were Navy, huh? Figures. The recruiters do get their share out of Aera Cura. Easy a ticket out as any." To Paris, she shrugs. "The chain goes higher. I'm just a cog in the machine. I like to feel out situations like this with my own hands. Besides, figured it'd be easier to work out what my techs needed, and didn't need, to do in person. You worked on the Cloudbuster?" She sounds interested in that. "I'd have loved to put my hands to a little piece of ship like that. Under different circumstances, I'll grant."

"PFffft," goes Paris, from the rear, muttering on, "It might've taken a little longer without you, but we'd have managed just fine." Hmph. "And his job now is just too much fun, I think, for him to dirty himself up in our greasy world, except under really grim circumstances." As for the Major's own answers, he bobs his head. "S'fair," he comments, although then the suspicion arises again, "That mean they're sending over a bigger team later?" Mention of the Cloudburster earns a laugh. "We gutted it for parts." And booze, but he doesn't mention the booze.

Nicholas smiles prettily at Paris. Rhea's questions about why he's not longer engineering goes unanswered as he continues down the steps, and swipes his card through the security on the next flight. Door pushed open with his hip, he lets them through. "The Lawton Cave is just through here."

Rhea shrugs to Paris. "If it's required. That's for Lawton and I to figure out. I doubt more than myself and a few Electricals'll need to truck over from the Genny. You lot managed to get back, so it stands to reason this isn't an ongoing system frak-up. Trick is making sure it doesn't happen again when we least expect." She nods approvingly at gutting the Cloudbuster. "Bet that was a pretty gutting job. Anyhow. Thanks for the escort, Mister Luma. I'll take it from here." She eyes Nicholas up and down again, still curious. But she's got work to do, so she doesn't linger. "Good luck with your planning."

Paris stops a bit back when they seem to be getting close to their destination, not to clog things up or make a pest of himself. More than the usual level of pest-ness, anyway. Just a slow nod when she explains the repair process. He doesn't object. Another round of military invasion is still probably preferable to getting stranded in the void of space. "Really a shame the basic training you guys get doesn't cover this stuff." He can't help himself. "Whole lot of 'em could barely lift a finger to help. Nice t' have some help from engineering, though."

"You're quite welcome, Major." Nicholas' politeness is effortless. "And good luck, yourself." Her curiosity is going to have to wait. He looks at Paris and smiles, cocking his head back towards the stairs. "I'm going back to the office. See you later?"

Rhea gets a laugh out of that. "That's pilots for you. We tuck them in at night and make sure they don't mess themselves." She's joking. Mostly. She shrugs. "Military's a big machine machine. All the little moving parts have their different functions. I sure as frak can't fly a Viper. Training for every section gets pretty specific, once you get past the basics." She smirks at Nicholas. "I'm sure Mister Luma can tell you more, if you're curious. And no need to 'Major' me unless you're terribly compelled to. I'm no Major to either of you. Good day, gentleman." A nod to each of them, and she's off to talk wrenching exchange.

Fulton comes in from Shuttle Transfer.
Fulton has arrived.

"Oh I'm sure," Paris answers Rhea, "But still, seems crazy to fly something without having any idea how it works. What happens if you have a frak up away from mommy and daddy?" He picks up her own metaphor, there. When she says goodbye, he lifts a hand, at least managing that social proceedure. Nick's information is noted with a nod. "Alright. I'll bug you later about that thing, got a lead on it I'm following." Now they're busy with their personal secret-talk.

Rhea leaves for Shuttle Transfer [SH].
Rhea has left.

Nicholas smiles at Rhea and lets her go off to Lawton's, pulling the fire door shut behind her. "Goodness but they're persistent." He brushes off his hands and starts back for the stairs leading up, giving Paris a slightly raised brow when he mentions a prior conversation. "Ah, really. Excellent. I knew you could do anything." He shakes a finger at Paris and smirks.

Fulton steps off the Shuttle, rubbing the back of his neck as he starts for the Cloudburster Berth. Finally, things seem to have settled enough for him to attend to his own things.

"Haha, yeah, they are," notes Paris once the Major is out of earshot. "At least we got one that might know her head from her ass and bow from stern. Better than the last bunch." An equal sort of look is offered when Nick smirks at him, and he gives a sort of helpless shrug. If people wish to attribute him with mythic ability to do the impossible, at a certain point, he will stop arguing with them! "What can I say. So yeah, that looks like it'll work out for us." He's thoughtful, then. "Anything else on the plate? Or you gotta go back to plotting numbers and cubits?"

Nicholas lets them through the the upper fire doors with his keycard and heads back towards the docking bay. "Me? I'm not plotting a thing," he says, with a smile that's a little too coy. "I think I might actually go have a well-deserved night of sleep. Oh, remind me to tell you about the chat I had earlier. Commander Regas himself." He makes a wry face, then spot Fulton over by the Cloudburster. His hand lifts, waving a hello that way.

Fulton reaches the Cloudburster, looking at the damage, and tilts his head, moving to the log the Destiny crew left for him, taking the clipboard and notices Nicholas, lifting the clipboard, and waving it, "Hello." He says, as he looks back to the clipboard and starts looking through the papers, reading on what exactly is missing from the ships systems.

"Sleep's never bad," Paris admits. But that little tidbit of information surely catches his attention. "Eh? You mean the Genesis commander? Whole lot of brass over here all of a sudden. What'd he want?" The instinct to pry is great. "Oh, right - sure, I'll bug you later about it." Although he glances over at Fulton when Nick greets him, he doesn't seem inclined to do the same. "Alright man, I'll catch you around. Enjoy your very brief vacation from our crazy conscious world."

Nicholas seems inclined to scuttle away before Fulton changes his mind about being glad to donate the Cloudburster's sensitive systems to science. He smiles at Paris and turns to breeze off in that way he has that takes a rush of wind with him. Dramatic exeunt, stage left!

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