The ORION Files (Closed/Started)

Outcast107

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A rundown 'drift' station, located at the border of the Terran Grand Republic's sphere of control and the start of the Outer Colonies freedom and independence; the station was one of the first to be constructed along the border, meant be a rest and refuelling point for starships travelling between the regions. Over the years it has changed hands many times, sometimes for the better, sometimes not, so it now a mishmash of a station with odd additions here and there, housing merchants that cater to whatever needs a weary Spacer has.

The most famous of all these add-on was the 'Warden?s Tooth', a seedy bar housed in the bow section of an old GRN cruiser that had been added to the station a little over a century ago. Most business on the station was conducted there, partially because it boasted a wide array of intoxicants, and partially because it had a few secure VIP sections for meetings. The dim light room was filled with people of all shapes and sizes, most were human, but there were a few aliens mixed in with the crowd, as waitresses went around, filling out orders or getting another round. At the counter a robotic bartender was making another drink for a human, who already seemed to be quite drunk.

Vid screen displays were dotted about, playing different things; some patrons watching the screens had headsets so they could listen without being disturbed by the music in the background, while others just stared at the images. Most screens were displaying sports, both human and non-human, such as the Shuttle Racing League, while a few were showing the local galactic news.

A patron lurched to his feet with a loud yell. "FUCKING HELL, lost AGAIN!" He was watching the SRL, and the last race had just finished. The broadcast showed the winner, ?Blue Hawk?, who was waving to the crowd as he took a victory lap; nearby the news broadcast was running the lead story about how a luxury cruise liner had still not made port, and was now three days overdue. The liner had had roughly 500,000 passengers on board, and there were concerns that it had been attacked by pirates.

On second floor was the VIP section. There were ten different rooms, each large enough to fit at least fifteen people. Some were in use, while others were still open. A sign flicked above one of the occupied rooms. "Merc ship looking for crew. Pay depends on jobs taken."

---

Inside said room, was Rick Walker, Captain of an old goods hauler named ?Sweet Child of Mine?. He also ran the Outer Ring Initiative Operations Network, or ORION, Company; a small mercenary that plied its trade anywhere across known space. In his hands was a bottle of ale as he sat comfortably in his seat;
Beside him was the Sweety?s Chief Engineer, and paranoid junker, Pit. He was a little over five feet tall, and wore a dark brown robe over his black spacesuit. His helmet was solid with cameras mounted to provide vision, and completely hide his face; the helmet also scrambled his voice so it sounds like a bunch of nonsense, only someone with the right descrambler frequency could understand what he was saying.

Pit looked over at Walker. "Ez cha sah cah Ca Ma Kamak." Walker sighed and took a swish of his ale, before setting the bottle down. "Anyone would be better then the last crew..."
 

Texas Joker 52

All hail the Pun Meister!
Jun 25, 2011
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Terran Grand Republic Territory Border | Drift Station | Warden's Tooth Bar
"Always bet on the fatter shuttles, they have a bigger power plant."
[hr]

Sitting at the bar with four eyes locked on the nearest screen display, a young female Shree had also been watching the race that was the cause of the angry yell from what sounded like a Terran behind her. She was wearing a dark jacket over her orange thermal enviro-suit made of synthetic materials meant to simulate leather along with fur around the collar and cuffs. The image of one of the nastiest looking fish one could imagine on was emblazoned the back, teal on a red background. Beneath, it said "DEVIL-FISH #66" in a variety of languages.

She shook her head as she saw the end of the race and murmured something under her breath. Mar wasn't really surprised that "Blue Hawk" had won, since she had raced them before. They were good, almost as good as her, she thought with a small smile that showed a glimpse of needle-sharp teeth. Standing up, she tucked three of her four arms into various pockets and stepped away, but with one true-hand she patted the angry patron's shoulder in a gesture of sympathy. Then she headed up to the second level of the bar.

Really, seedy little dives like that weren't her style. Too quiet, the music was for shit, and the drinks were usually too strong for her tastes. Of course, the fact that they were too strong for her, a Shree, which was a species that got intoxicated on other things than alcohol, usually meant that they were just right for other species, like Terrans. No, she preferred the club scene. It was louder, brighter, had more... Life.

But, she wasn't there to relax, but to find the next paying job, only to get caught up watching the SRL. Places like this were pretty reliable when it came to looking for odd jobs for shifty people. Once she stepped onto the second level, she scanned the signs above the doors and found the one she wanted: "Merc Ship looking for crew. Pay depends on jobs taken."

Wasting no more time, she opened the door and stepped inside, raising a true-hand in a Terran-styled wave.

"Hey there," she said, her voice lightly distorted as it was filtered through the translator on her neck, "If you're still looking for crew, specifically a pilot, I'm for hire. Name's Mar."
 

Generic NPC 22

The Most Generic of NPCs
Jul 12, 2012
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The Orion Files | Drift Station | The Warden's Tooth
"Bureaucracy, Booze and Beatings..."
Irina Rostikova | Edward Aubergine​
[hr]

Irina Rostikova sighed as she settled down on the worn down and tattered bar stool, a pint of Firekkan Fire Water Ale fizzling away in front of her. Though she'd been on the station for nearly 2 hours, this was the first moment of rest that she'd gotten since she and her partner had landed. The Catican Technician briefly wondered if the sluggishness characteristic of every Customs Agent for the Terran Grand Republic was a job requirement or if it was something that drummed into them during training. She did have to admit that they did do a fairly thorough search of the Redeemer, having removed roughly 75% of the ship's organic armor plating, removed every wall panel from the cargo hold and nearly dismantled the ship's jump drive. Despite the comprehensive nature of his inspection, he never noticed the GFM[footnote]Gravitational Flux Modulation[/footnote] Device plugged into the Redeemer's power plant.

Taking a sip of her drink, Irina took a look at her surroundings, absently wondering how it was that she'd wound up on a backwater station such as this. While this wasn't the first time that she'd been aboard a Terran space station, this was by far, the most dilapidated. The fact that she had paid nearly twice the typical amount for a pint of Firekkan Fire Water Ale was proof of this, however the sensation of the fizzing and popping bubbles against her whiskers was definitely worth it. Sighing with contentment, the female Catican pulled out the data pad from its case on her belt and placed it on the bar, the holographic display firing up as it ran through its startup routines, namely scanning a block of predefined communications frequencies.

A little less than 950 Standard Terran years ago, humans discovered a form of electro-magnetic radiation that could be utilized to transmit data. Dubbed radio waves, the discovery was used to facilitate the transmission of everything from battlefield communications to civilian communications to encrypted computer communications. Of interest to Irina was its use as a means to transmit old Terran entertainment signals. It was through the detection of these signals that the Catican Hegemony became aware of the Terran Home world, even going so far as to slip Catican observers on their planet. While they did their best to blend in with the Terran feline population, the Catican observers were soon recalled after several incidents with their Terran hosts that ranged from being overly demanding to spending more time sleeping than observing.

Of course, the historical importance of the Terran radio signals was not what interested the Feline-esque technician rather it was the contents of these radio transmissions. Perhaps it was because the female Catican was more closely related to Terrans at the genetic level or the fact that she was naturally curious but her Creator had noticed that Irina Rostikova had taken a peculiar interest in all things Terran, especially Terran music.

The data pad beeped as it detected the presence of Terran radio signals that had traveled the 800 or so light years from Terra to this backwater station. Analyzing the signals, Irina was delighted to find that the radio emanations were from the Terran year 2005.


Tapping a clawed hand in time to the music, the Catican never noticed the large shadow that appeared behind her until it took the seat next to her's, or rather scooted the stool over. The massive seven foot tall Catican male huffed as he ordered a drink, a Terran whiskey. Eyeing the tiny 30 milliliter glass that the drink had come in, Edward Aubergine raised the right eyebrow of this central pair of eyes before ordering a larger glass of Terran whiskey instead of the kitten sized version. Throwing the glass back, the massive four armed alien drink cheap liquor in a single gulp.

"Ahh..." The Casteless warrior ahh'd, delighted at the inferno that the barely filtered liquid left in his throat, "I have completed the purchase of fuel rods for the Redeemer, though the dishonorable dock master attempted to sell me far more than the Eight Eights that I requested."

The smaller of the two Casteless Caticans sighed as she looked at her less than culturally aware comrade.

"You're aware, Edward, that humans have two more digits than the standard Catican," Irina started to say, as she displayed the five digits on her right hand for Edward to see, "Like us, they use a numerical system based on the number of digits on their hands and as a result your Eight Eights, which is Sixty Four in human terms, was probably translated to Eighty Eight."

Irina's partner growled at the bartender before he gestured at the empty glass. The Terran, not wanting to be bothered with a race on, placed the entire bottle of Terran whiskey in front of his colossal customer.

"Be that as it may, Raav-" Edward started to say, almost giving away Irina's true name to the universe.

"Irina!" Irina interrupted with a hiss of disbelief. Even if they were now members of the Casteless, their true names were still never to revealed to outsiders.

"Be that as it man, Rin, we are now running low on credits and if we are, as you are thinking, to pay back our debts to our creator, we will need to find employment. With the Redeemer now fully stocked with fuel rods, we can make it to an outpost that has more opportunities..." The Pile of Purple Fur knocked back another drink, "And better drink."

Irina's tail swished back and forth in annoyance as she considered the possibilities. If they were to get into the merchant business, it was more than likely that they would run into fellow Caticans, who would undoubtedly report their presence to the Hegemony and after... what had happened... the Hegemony would be out for both her's and her partner's blood. The only way out of it would be to pay off their debt, become full Catican citizens in and attempt to stave off any attempts on their lives via the prosecutorial amnesty that citizenry enjoyed. This meant that it would be safer to work with others who were not be acquainted with either her nor Edward or had potentially frequent contact with the Catican Hegemony.

As the female Catican's tail continued to swish back and forth a rough pair of hands grabbed it before grabbing onto the woman's shoulder, causing Irina to hiss in both surprise and outrage. Turning on the offender the woman with the cat ears and cat tail glared at the drunken human.

"He---hey baaybee--- I jusss won me a buncha creds--- how muuush fur a night with uuuuu?" Ensign Nathaniel Cray asked, swaying on his feet, unaware that if someone didn't interject on his behalf, the murderously eggplant purple pile of shag carpet standing next to him would be throwing him out of the nearest airlock.
 

Athol

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Earlier

Mary yawned and stretched as she woke, her carbine rattling against the inside of the cockpit as she moved about. Sure she could?ve gotten a room somewhere on the station, but she wanted to keep an eye on ?Misha? and ?Stumpy?, who was still in his cargo crate; it wasn?t that she didn?t trust station security but ? actually that was it. She didn?t trust station security in the slightest, so she?d slipped into the hanger she?d landed in and spent the night sleeping lightly in the fighter?s cockpit.

Sliding the carbine back into its compartment, she popped the canopy and dropped to the deck with a thud. Rummaging about and pulling some ?Ready Rations? from one of the craft?s small gear bins, she ate and did a quick visual inspection of her stuff, before throwing a jacket on over the flight suit she was wearing, and heading for the main part of the station.

As she walked through the crowds, she smiled to herself at the number of people who stared at her augs; it?s not like individuals with prosthetic limbs were rare or anything, especially out here, but so many of them tried to hide the fact, like they were trying to pretend their injury never happened. She took a much more different approach to things; the right arm [http://ociacia.deviantart.com/art/Robotic-arms-499586098], and both legs, of her flight suit and the right arm jacket were gone, though the suit had a fancy electro-molecular bonding strips on the arm and legs that allowed it to still seal vacuum tight when needed.

--

Stepping through the doors of the Warden?s Tooth, she smiled; while the bar wasn?t nearly as rough as she was used to, this was far more her speed. Despite its shabby appearance, the whole station was nicer than her old haunts. Nobody had tried to explicitly rob her, there were few bullet holes in the walls, and she?d yet to have to step over a dead body. Weaving her way through the crowd, she headed towards the stairs to the VIP area, the local ?net had a posting about a merc ship looking for crew, and she was in need of some semi-legit work?at least until she was sure there was nobody still gunning for her after what went down at NPR.

"He---hey baaybee--- I jusss won me a buncha creds--- how muuush fur a night with uuuuu?"

There was a commotion beside her, as some drunk accosted a cat-lady, while her massive purple companion looked about forty kinds of pissed off. Normally she?d let nature take its course and the galaxy would be free of one more drunk idiot; but here and now, if that purple mountain killed this moron, Security would have to get involved and that may very well scare off this job prospect.

Coming up behind the drunk, she placed her right hand on the back of his neck, with her thumb and fingers on either side, then began to slowly squeeze quite hard. The drunk twitched as soon as he felt the silicon pads of the palm of her right hand, and letting go of the furry woman, he tried to turn towards Mary, but her grip prevented that. Once he?d let go, and she was sure she had a firm hold, Mary?s left arm snapped towards him, and she drove her fist into his left kidney with enough force to break a couple of his floating ribs.

The man?s eyes wen wide and blank as pain beyond anything he thought possible overrode his nerves. He tried to scream, but the only sounds he could manage was a strained little wheezing; the only part of his body not locked by the pain was his bladder, and soon a dark stain began to spread from his crotch and down his legs.

Maintaining the grip on his neck, Mary gripped his left arm at the elbow with her left hand, and began to push the staggering mass of human shaped pain towards the exit. Around her she could hear the murmur of the other patrons, some laughed, others boasted that they?d?ve kicked her as if she?d tired that with them, while most just watched in silence. Guiding the man though the doorway as it slid open automatically upon their approach, she then let him go with a small push, causing him to stagger forwards a few paces?which as just enough space for her to shift all her weight to her left leg, raise her right leg up high enough to plant it in the small of his back, and then kick as hard as she could. Leaving him face down in a pile of trash, and in more pain than he thought possible, she returned to her original mission.

Breezing past the sight of the initial altercation without even a side glance, she bounded upstairs to the VIP room where the recruiting was supposed to be going on. Rapping to the door as she stepped through, she gave a rather cocky grin to the three individuals inside. ?Well I see you?ve already got the muscle, so who about some talent? ?Red? Mary Williams, or ?Red? for short. I?m a Grandy Navy trained fighter jock with my own ship and an infantry support walker that I can bring to the table. I can handle maintenance on my own, so you don?t need to have anyone from the ship babysit me. That said, and in the interest of full disclosure, there is a potential sticking point?I spent the just shy of thirty years as a pirate.?

There was a series of whirrs and clicks from her right arm, as the outside of her forearm opened to reveal a built in pistol. Keeping the arm in a non-threatening position, she made sure she could see all three individuals without turning her head. ?If that?s going to be a problem, just say so and I?ll be on my way?just please don?t try anything rash.?
 

FalloutJack

Bah weep grah nah neep ninny bom
Nov 20, 2008
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On the whole, the general quietness of space was usually disturbing to a number of intelligent species. Sound is an important aspect of their lives, after all. You couldn't really get on without it. It was your early warning system, guaranteed to save your life if you were capable of acting upon it, thanks to that second half of the 'system', survival instincts. Most species didn't like being without it in space, so their proximity alarms and attack warnings were usually tailored to give their ears sort of a surround-sound kind of warning of things incoming. When nothing was going on, though, it was quiet, and Elliot actually liked it that way. It allowed him to concentrate on what he was doing, really. He could already see and appreciate the urgency of all the alarms, but he tended not to have them blaringly loud because of how distracting that could be.

Still, when nothing's going on, you've got nothing to pay attention to, and so you're either relaxing, pre-occupied with something else, or bored out of your mind. Elliot didn't get bored easy. It wasn't in his nature. He could keep up a decent focus, no problem. It had something to do with - despite all evidence to the contrary - not being human. All the biology was there and the brain worked, but it was really just a shift of the form. It was one that he liked, but in no way was Elliot Gratsky a human being. He simply made him up one day and decided to stick with it. He liked the challenge of the act, of doing things the human way. So, he was monitering the console and the expanse of space before him.

One of them had to be at the Archer's controls at all times, in case of emergency. At least, while they were en route anywhere. It prevented disaster. With he - the dark halred ex-soldier-looking dude - essentially on moniter duty, it meant that Grace was either sleeping or - more likely - checking her equipment and practicing her fight maneuvers. Grace was also not human, and equally not really Grace. It was hardly the secret identity that he had taken unto himself, more of a separation from whatever family she didn't want to talk about that Elliot never asked about. So, the score is one Amasi, one Ignis, no humans at all. They were a prospective mercenary team of essentially TWO looking for either work or more people or both.

The constant search for work and a willingness to go pursue and/or kill whatever people wanted for money - Hey, it's work. Let's not be picky - generally kept them in the black. Not always, but the only principles that Elliot worried about for the most part was feasibility, in terms of their own logistics and the client's ability to pay. They had done a number of things, and Grace rarely showed any objections. Actually, she hardly had opinions at all on the matter. Since he had a good head for tactical thinking, she tended to follow his lead, for the most part. It was only when it was important that the white-haired Ignis spoke up. To be honest, Elliot was hoping to get her to show a little more initiative, even though very little of what he did bothered her. Kinda' the reason he decided to make her a full partner.

Well, that's enough about them. The Archer was making its way to this drift station... It didn't have any official name on it. It was just an improvised ramshackle gathering of whatever they could weld together fast enough. It had a few nicknames, of course, like 'Rust Bucket' or 'Station POS'. Elliot maneuvered the gunship in for docking when he noticed something, a sleek and possibly dangerous-looking vessel, which rang up as the Devil-Fish. Wait a minute... He called Grace up to the front area of the ship. She arrived with barely a sound. Seriously, it was really hard to even hear her coming. It came so naturally, even though her abilities were more along the lines of light and perception, not sound and vibrations.

"The Devil-Fish. Isn't that a pirate vessel?"

She shook her head.

"That's the Devil Ray, Elliot. Devil-Fish is a racer."

"Just checking. Didn't want a case where a known pirate stole a designation to throw people off."

Forging a ship ID was the equivalent of stealing a person's license plate in the 20th Century, completely possible and usually to ill effect for the legitimate owner. The Archer docked and the two of them stepped out into the station. Grace tended to wear her sneak suit alot while away from the ship. Elliot was sporting a lower profile combat armor than his Paladin Armor right now, tucked under a dark jacket. They were both armed, but not a heavy load-out right now. If they needed anything, the ship was ready, willing, and able to impart it onto them. It was a secure vessel, Terran military fixer-upper with some custom work done on the interior. You wouldn't board her easily. They settled into the Warden's Tooth, where Elliot ordered a drink, and then Grace pointed out the sign regarding a merc ship.

"Merc ship, though. Looks like they're looking to fill up some lockers, and we've got a whole ship of our own. Dunno, Grace. Lemme see what else is going 'round, then we'll see."

The chances of there being much in the way of happenings here, though, was small. This was a midpoint between here and there. Any action going on here, was usually in relation to something going on somewhere else. It might be worth looking into, it might not. Anything could happen.
 

Outcast107

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Just when Walker was going to say something towards Mar, an another woman just came bursting through the door. Seeming a bit eager to boost about herself a bit. Though the name caught his attention quickly enough. He set his ale down and sat back to take this all in. He didn't know much about Mar but he does indeed need a pilot, ever since the last one..well lets not discuss that. Though he was odd to see Sheer so far out here, but then again, this is near the edge of the TGR sphere of influence.

Just as he was about to address the two ladies in front of him, Pit started talking quiet fast and it seems a bit...piss off? "CHI CHA AZALA BAKAD CHE HIA CJADHA." Before Pit could go any further, Walker put his left hand up to stop him and said, "Slow down Pit. I can't fucking understand you when you talk this fast.." Walker rub the descrambler piece in his ear. After Pit slowed down and told Walker what was wrong Walker sighed. "Well before I say anything about you two joining the crew. Names Rick Walker..and this little..annoying junker is Pit." Walker said as he look over at Mary. "He says don't touch his ship." Though everyone could tell that Pit probably said it much more insulting way from how he acted.

"Anyways, I don't know much about you Mar but you sound way more professional then the last pilot I hired..though before I hired you on I would like to see some of your skills. If you don't mind." Walker said before grabbing his Ale and taking a swing of it once more. Setting down the now empty bottle as he turn his eyes on Mary. "Red Mary..I heard about you. Almost got assign a job in my Black Ops days in the TGR to come and bring you in." Walker chuckle, "Though someone else got picked for the job. Anyways from word of mouth you're pretty good in a fight and I think we might need someone like that."

From the side Pit was grumbling to himself. Walker sighed and looked at the Junker. "If you are going to complain, at least do it while getting me another." He handed the Junker his empty bottle. Pit got up and started complaining in his scramble up voice. Walking between the two women and handing to the bar.

"Well while we wait, you two can take a seat and tell me more about yourselves." Walker gesture to the seats in the large VIP room. Not wanting to let them stand there all day long.
 

Evrant-Knight

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Apr 20, 2020
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Bristol
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United Kingdom
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VELKA


Velka looked around the decrepit station as she stepped off the transport that brought her here as the scarf she wore hung loosely around her; this place had certainly seen better days, was probably a nice place to live and work back in its heydey, but time and the constant changing of hands both high and low had brought her beauty down, and cracks were forming everywhere. She had come to this 'Drift Station' after receiving a random invitation to come here by the mercenary group known as ORION Company.

Searching her memory core, the name produced several hits; mostly from some notorious work they had done, which made her wonder why they wanted Velka given their reputation. The simplest answer to this was likely because they had heard of Velka's own reputation, and wanted someone of her talent, and dare we say unique appearance for themselves, and she was happy to oblige them, for now at the very least. But simplest wasn't always the correct one.

Anyway, the invitation stated that she was to come to this station, head to the... establishment known as The Warden's Tooth, and proceed up to its V.I.P Rooms; the place must have been either popular or wealthy enough to afford something like that. Making her way through some of the crowds that milled about the port area, she got her share of strange looks and curious glances; the same kind of look she received anywhere, not ones of disgust, but intrigue. Here she was, a walking talking, cybernetics freak's wet dream, out and about for all to see. A few were probably wondering where they could get some augments like hers, well they'd have to travel pretty far to get them.

Arriving at the entryway to The Warden's Tooth, what first caught Velka's attention was the absolute mess of a man laying face down in a pile of trash. Based on how he laid in a crumpled heap, he'd be needing a fair bit of medical attention, along with plenty of mental therapy to bring them back up to speed. Passing through the automatic door, she headed straight towards her destination. Up in the V.I.P area, she followed the telltale sounds of conversation, arriving at the open room, she leant against the door frame and knocked on it a couple times, waiting with her arms crossed.
 

Texas Joker 52

All hail the Pun Meister!
Jun 25, 2011
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Terran Grand Republic Territory Border | Drift Station | Warden's Tooth Bar, VIP Room
"Don't need to tell me twice."
[hr]

It was no real surprise that the young Shree wasn't the only one looking for questionable work for what hoped to be decent pay. When another female, Terran this time, stepped in, Mar only gave her a second glance due to her very obvious cybernetics. Not because they seemed repulsive, as some might see them, or because of any particular interest in them since she was far more focused on ships and flying. No, it was because they reminded him of a Terran Mechanic with more than a few obviously-mechanical enhancements of his own.

The woman grinned, obviously confident in herself if Mar could read her human expressions right.

"Well I see you've already got the muscle, so who about some talent? 'Red' Mary Williams, or 'Red' for short. I'm a Grandy Navy trained fighter jock with my own ship and an infantry support walker that I can bring to the table. I can handle maintenance on my own, so you don't need to have anyone from the ship babysit me. That said, and in the interest of full disclosure, there is a potential sticking point...I spent the just shy of thirty years as a pirate."

At the mention of having been a pirate, Mar's four eyes immediately narrowed into dangerous slits when she turned her gaze toward 'Red' Mary. Even with her show of pulling out a hold-out pistol from her prosthetic arm, the Shree's glare didn't exactly lessen.

"If that's going to be a problem, just say so and I'll be on my way...just please don't try anything rash."

The next to speak was the robed being next to what was presumably the one recruiting them. The Terran, a male, had to either be the leader of this mercenary expedition, or a trusted representative. But the one next to him... She couldn't quite tell what species they were. They could have been human, for all she knew, but it was hard to be sure, what with the fact that they were completely covered and their voice was so heavily scrambled. The man next to him though seemed to understand what they said, once they said it a little slower.

"Well before I say anything about you two joining the crew. Names Rick Walker..and this little..annoying junker is Pit. He says don't touch his ship."

That last bit was pointedly addressed to the ex-pirate, something that immediately began to endear Pitt to the four-armed female. The fact that neither of them liked pirates was at least something they had in common. Then Walker turned to look at her.

"Anyways, I don't know much about you Mar but you sound way more professional then the last pilot I hired..though before I hired you on I would like to see some of your skills. If you don't mind."

Mar's lips spread into her own grin when he said that, and she slipped her hands from her pockets and shrugged. The human gesture was quite exaggerated on the Shree.

"I don't mind at all. Though, if you happen to follow the SRL at all, you may already know about me. I flew the Devil-Fish, Number 66 in the circuit a few seasons ago. But, if you want a demonstration, just tell me what you want to see, and I'll give you a show." she said, before clasping her hands behind her.

After taking a sip of his drink, Walker turned to 'Red'. As it turned out, Walker at least knew of 'Red' Mary Williams, though while he was originally assigned to take her in on behalf of the Terran Grand Republic, it seemed that someone else was given the job. It was no surprise that she wasn't turned away for her past piracy though. Outfits like this, that recruited out of dingy bars on drift stations? They couldn't exactly be picky, Mar thought with a soft huff of a suppressed chuckle. After all, that's how she managed to get some of her jobs before, because they couldn't exactly pass her over, despite being what she was.

As Pitt was sent to get another drink, Walker gestured to both of them to sit.

"Well while we wait, you two can take a seat and tell me more about yourselves."

Nodding, she strode over and practically lounged on one of the seats, looking quite at ease as she crossed her legs and draped her true-arms over the back. Her false-hands slipped themselves back into the pockets of her jacket.

"Well, it's obvious enough that I'm a Shree, so hopefully you don't mind someone from my species along with all that entails being on board. While I mainly fly a shuttle, I can pilot just about anything that can go through a vacuum or in-atmo, from gunships to frigates. Damn good at it, too, you'll see for yourself. Beyond that, I can handle myself in a fight, so long as it's up-close. I don't have anything that can really take the fight at medium-to-long range." she said.

There was a moment of hesitation before she exhaled a sigh and grimaced.

"And there's one other thing. Not sure if this will be relevant, but I'm basically living out of my ship. So if it helps, I don't really have any solid ties beyond that that should get in the way." she told him.
 

Lunar Templar

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Sep 20, 2009
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The Warden's Tooth, VIP lounge 3

Shanoa sat, sort of. Her mechanical body, which she'd named 'Nyx' was sitting, she was floating boredly in the robot cat's systems waiting for this to be over, as her soon to be former client finished confirming the integrity and authenticity of the data she'd been hired to collect, then slid a tray with a card loaded with creds across the table to 'her'. After confirming that all was in order with the payment she collected it and left that room to see several 'rough' looking types entering another VIP lounge.

Curious, she did a quick check on the local network to see what 'shenanigans' some one was planing, and found several things, but the only that matched the location and time frame, was a mercenary ship looking for a crew. Shanoa gave this some thought, could be fun, not to mention Mercenary crews typically got more work the freelancers. Plus there was the added benefits of having a more mobile base of operations then what she currently had.

While she mulled this over, another came up and knocked on the door-frame, and seemed to just, wait, for entry, a Reshani from the look of it. In the end the potential benefits out weighed the negatives and decided to go and 'try out', and walked over to the door the Reshani was waiting by and introduced her self, sort of. "I hear your looking to fill some lockers. Have any need of some one with a knack for getting in and out of places unnoticed?" she said from just in side the thresh hold of the door.
 

Anti-American Eagle

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Brian Wojtek - The Warden's Tooth

Brian liked bars. Cheap liquor, loose women, bad gamblers, and a ready source of drunks looking to fight- there was one getting their ass kicked. How long had he been sitting on this station, in this bar: A week now? Or was it a month? He had credits to spare, the jobs always payed more than he ever needed from them. But what he really needed was purpose- or work and drinking only substituted for so long. Another alien whatever-it-was beer went down, another toxicity alarm sounded in his head, and another stimulant pumped into his system. And so another went down and the cycle repeated, trying to overwhelm a system designed specifically to fight intoxication- the engineers forgetting to install an accessible off-switch and the officers not caring if their soldiers were capable of enjoying themselves.

Tiring of just sitting Brian stood up from the bar, grabbed one of his bottles, and started idly surveying the room seeing if anything was actually happening tonight. His eyes briefly lingered on the eyes of a strange woman he assumed was spliced before noticing a couple of people heading toward the VIP lounges, he vaguely recalled someone saying something about them earlier and so after another swig headed up. Noticing a couple machines standing outside one of the rooms he looked at the flickering sign and joined the line with nothing better to do.
 

FalloutJack

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They tended to work as a team, either one knowing what method of information-gathering would work best in a setting. Elliot was the guy at the bar with a liberal attitude towards drinking who kept his eyes open and asked questions. If there was anything word-of-mouth going on that maybe an amicable bartender wanted to throw his way, something that wouldn't be on he station's computer net, that was the way. Grace, meanwhile, was an unreadable-but-inquisitive pretty face. She wasn't incredibly showy, nor did she have an 'act', but the eye candy was there even if she herself wasn't a big talker. It was in this fashion that Elliot got into a discussion about that missing liner. It got him the idea that finding it would certainly be a worthy prospect, if he only knew where to look. Trouble is...everybody knew where it had left and where it was suppose to be...but in space, it could go anywhere, including explode! That might be a dead-end wast of time. Grace, however...

"One of the men from that table said he was sure that Red Mary Williams went upstairs shortly before we arrived."

"Okay, something to work on, assuming she has any outstanding warrants. Anything?"

"I have the information already. Official statutes ended some time ago. Someone with a personal vendetta might pay, but we would have to locate a buyer first."

Grace's implant strikes again, delivering both bad and good news. Of course, there was only one problem - apart from any possible issues with capturing her - and that was the fact that she had gone up into that VIP room where they're hiring out mercenaries. According to Grace, any record of her days of piracy started when she was subbordinate to another leader. The fact that she was now looking for mercenary work suggested she wanted to go slightly more legit - money for gun-toting instead of money for nothing - but it may have been out of a desire to blend in.

"Okay, now we'll see what this thing's all about. We're assessing the situation to see if this is even worth doing or even feasible. Keep your weaponry out of any threatening postures."

"Alright, Elliot."

And so, they too would join the cue. Damn, there were alot of prospective mercenaries here...
 

Generic NPC 22

The Most Generic of NPCs
Jul 12, 2012
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The Orion Files | Drift Station | The Warden's Tooth
"Involuntary Application for Employment..."
Irina Rostikova | Edward Aubergine​
[hr]

Despite the rather embarrassing manner in which Mister Cray had been manhandled out of the Warden's Tooth, he was still rather lucky, for a human, that Quad-Armed Kitty named Edward had not been granted the pleasure of disemboweling the inebriated asshole and shoving him out an airlock. While it was a widely known fact that Terran blood boils in space, due to the fact that the laws of physics state that the ability of a material to maintain a liquid state is directly related to both Temperature as well as Pressure, it was unknown, at least to Edward, what would happen to a human's intestines if it was subjected to the low pressure environment of space. This is not to say that shoving Mister Nathaniel Cray out of an airlock would have been for purely scientific purposes, the rather large four armed feline would have preferred that the man's death provide something other than a satisfactory amount of pleasure.

Sighing at the wasted opportunity to collect some possibly profitable data, the Colossal Catican returned to his drink and his thoughts regarding the pair's current predicament. The Catican Hegemony was more than likely displeased with the Casteless couple, couple being in reference to their number not their relationship. They had lost a frigate, well half of a frigate since the aft portion of the ship was still likely drifting in Hegemony space, as well as a three or four eights of fighters and a great deal of Pure Blood lives. Calling a hunt on both Edward and Irina would have been economically foolish and the Ruling Caste would have had to hold one of its own members responsible for the loss. For now, the two of them were safe from any overt action by the Catican government but that did not mean that both of the fugitive Caticans were safe.

As her larger partner silently pursued the his multitude of thoughts, the Previously Persecuted Pus... Feline-esque Female eyed the augmented human that had saved her from having to reject the inebriated idiot while insisting that she was not in the business of pleasure... not in that capacity at least. To her dismay, rather than coming back to check on the Catican that she'd saved, the woman headed towards one of the VIP suites that advertised that it was looking for crew, a job that both Irina and Edward had thought too risky a venture to join, and started boasting loudly about both her history as a naval pilot as well as her time spent as a pirate.

The merchant mechanic cringed as her sharp ears overheard the entirety of the conversation.

"Well I see you've already got the muscle, so who about some talent? 'Red' Mary Williams, or 'Red' for short. I'm a Grandy Navy trained fighter jock with my own ship and an infantry support walker that I can bring to the table. I can handle maintenance on my own, so you don't need to have anyone from the ship babysit me. That said, and in the interest of full disclosure, there is a potential sticking point...I spent the just shy of thirty years as a pirate."

Having felt that she owed the woman a small debt, Irina suddenly found herself bolting off of the bar stool and leaping from the top of the bar to the second floor. While it would have normally been an act worthy of automatic ejection from the establishment, the bartender ensured that no glasses had been tipped over before returning his attention to the race.

"(The First Rule of Mitchel's Mercenary Manual, under the section of successfully selling yourself is that you do not fully disclose your past misdeeds. While it gives you the air of honesty, the patina of such an admission quickly wears off and the realization that your employer may have made an error ferments. If that happens at the very least one is looking at being fired, at worst they're turned over to the authorities for any reward that might be on their head.)" The Frantic Feline thought to herself as just about threw the door open with the word "WAIIIIIIIT!!!" ready to be loosed from her lips, at least until the captains words had resolved themselves.

"Red Mary..I heard about you. Almost got assign a job in my Black Ops days in the TGR to come and bring you in." The Captain said with a chuckle, "Though someone else got picked for the job. Anyways from word of mouth you're pretty good in a fight and I think we might need someone like that."

A sense of relief washed over Irina as she realized that she would not need to intervene on Red Mary's behalf and that the human would likely be hired on. Standing close to the door, the female couldn't help but eavesdrop on the continuing conversation.

"Well while we wait, you two can take a seat and tell me more about yourselves"

Another female voice, one that didn't belong to Red Mary started off the round of introductions.

"Well, it's obvious enough that I'm a Shree, so hopefully you don't mind someone from my species along with all that entails being on board. While I mainly fly a shuttle, I can pilot just about anything that can go through a vacuum or in-atmo, from gunships to frigates. Damn good at it, too, you'll see for yourself. Beyond that, I can handle myself in a fight, so long as it's up-close. I don't have anything that can really take the fight at medium-to-long range." she said, "And there's one other thing. Not sure if this will be relevant, but I'm basically living out of my ship. So if it helps, I don't really have any solid ties beyond that that should get in the way."

It was about this time that two more potential candidates entered the equation, passing the Catican without so much as a second glance. The first, a female Reshani, politely knocked on the door before allowing both her and a droid entrance. While the Reshani awaited a moment to speak, the AI addressed the captain in a rather brash manner.

"I hear your looking to fill some lockers. Have any need of some one with a knack for getting in and out of places unnoticed?" The AI stated.

"While you are considering your candidates, you may want to consider hiring someone with combat experience. I specialize in orbital/sub-orbital drop pod insertion, landing zone suppression, long range engagements, medium range engagements, hand to hand engagements, eradication missions, sabotage, demolitions..." A familiar voice from behind Irina started to say before she turned around and interrupted her cohort.

"[small]ED! We talked about this. I thought we were...[/small]" The Female Catican whispered before she realized that she was too late. If she talked him out of joining this mission, it was possible that rumors questioning their reliability could have been spread to other potential employers, thereby impacting their future marketability. Sighing she continued, "I thought we were going to start with the fact that you were instrumental in the Catican suppression of the Heloxians after their little 'practical joke' wiped out an entire colony."

Turning around to face the captain, her and Ed's future potential employer, Irina bowed and addressed the human.

"While my partner has many of the skills required of a Catican Shock Trooper and pilot, I possess the skills of both merchant and technologist. If hired, I can assist you with ship wide repairs and maintenance, deal negotiations with any of our potential employers as well as analysis of any anomalous items that we may discover on our travels. I am also skilled with drone control systems and currently utilize a fleet of sixteen droves that serve as point defense, repair and drone to ship combat platforms." The Humanized Cat Girl stated politely, her tail swaying behind her as she spread a thick layer of pheromones in the air, her secret weapon when it came to trade negotiations.
 

Outcast107

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Walker listen to Mar and smiled, while he wasn't a fan of the SRL, he knew the name of Mar. He almost forgotten about her but from her chat he began to remember of how she was quickly rising to fame and how she was quickly banned. He never got to knowing the reason. He was either in his work or drinking his problems away.

Once she was finish, he was going to reply before people came bursting through the door. Quite a bit it seems like. Though being a bit buzz, he just stared at them all and sighed. "Alright, we'll discuss this in a moment..Too many people want my attention." He then turn to look at the Cat girl. "Look honey, I had a Cat girl as a lover a good while ago...and she used the same trick on me a few times...so don't try to pheromone me to win me over. Though I wouldn't mind having someone on my side for once to get me some good deals..so take a seat with your.." Walker looked at the big Catican Shock Trooper and then said, "purple furball and we'll discuss things." He gets up and looks at the other robot woman. "Get in here and take a saeat..all of you take a seat..I'll be back in a moment." He said as he went out and look at the entire bar.

"If anyone else wants a job, get our butt up here in five minutes. I don't want any more inturptions when I'm trying to have a talk with my future employees." He said and went back to his chair. Sighing as Pit came back, cursing a bit as he look at the other newcomers. Giving what seem to be a evil stare, hard to tell due to the mask, at the two mech women. "Today is going to be a long day..." Walker whisper to himself as he open up the bottle and took a chug of his drink.
 

Generic NPC 22

The Most Generic of NPCs
Jul 12, 2012
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The Orion Files | Drift Station | The Warden's Tooth
"A Congested Congregation of Crew and Cats"
Irina Rostikova | Edward Aubergine​
[hr]

"Get in here and take a saeat..all of you take a seat. I'll be back in a moment." The Captain and potential employer of Irina Rostikova and Edward Aubergine said looking a little dazed at the fact that it seemed like over 50% of the station's current population was probably trying cram itself in the small VIP section overlooking the Warden's Tooth. The captain was not the only one who appeared dazed as Edward took a look at the number of applicants and compared their estimated sum volume with the estimated volume of the room. It seemed impossible to jam that much flesh into one small area without either a good lubricant or a good amount of force.

"If you will excuse me, I believe that my presence at this meeting may be superfluous as Irina is able to speak on my behalf," the seemingly kitty cat muttered the apology to the captain as he started to back away from the room, attempting to make the quickest exit possible while knocking over the least number of candidates possible. At the very least he was able to stand just outside the room and listen to the captain's words.

The female Catican nodded to her counterpart as he stood in the doorway and listened for the captain to start speaking. Having been with a Catican courtesan, the Captain was more than likely aware that Catican shock troopers tended to get edgy around large congregations of strangers as a result of their genetics as well as their training. For the typical Catican Shock Trooper, the majority of encounters with large groups of strangers tended to involve a lot of shooting and killing as these large congregation of beings tended to be large a congregation of enemies.

Sitting down at one of the room's many chairs, the mostly human Catican found herself needing to sit at the edge of the furniture piece in order to allow her tail to move freely.

CRACK!! SHRRRRRRIPP!!

The back of the chair suddenly went missing as the Colossus of Catica ripped away the object's back rest and placed it against the wall. Having seen that his partner was sitting uncomfortably, the polite pus... Shock Trooper did what anyone with in inordinate amount of strength would do: Break the hell out of the furniture.

Looking about the room, Irina could practically feel all the attention centered on her, even if it wasn't an overt stare. Waving at her potential crew-mates, the Feline-esque female apologized.

"Apologies for the distraction. We Caticans don't often sit in seats with back rests or when we do, there's usually a hole cut out in the back rest..." Irina said as she scooted her booty back into the seat and settled down to wait for the Captain. Turning to her right, Irina noticed that she was seated next to the woman that had assisted her earlier with the drunken human, Ensign Cray. "I'm Irina. A pleasure to meet you. I'd like to thank you for taking care of that drunken man earlier but if you could assist me further, could you tell me anything you know about this job? To be truthful I didn't look over the details."
 

Evrant-Knight

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"Get in here and take a saeat..all of you take a seat..I'll be back in a moment." Spoke the human who appeared to be in charge of things here as he permitted them all entry before getting up from his chair and heading towards the door. Velka obliged and took a seat on the opposite side of the room from where the door was, taking her coat off and hanging it on the back of the chair. Looking around, she saw that a variety of people from across the racial spectrum had come along to this meeting. Regardless of the outcome, it was certainly going to be an interesting conversation.

When the human came back, she immediately noticed the glare that he gave her if she had to guess, there was something about Velka that he didn't like. The obvious suggestion was that he didn't particularly like Reshani. Well if that was the case, why to bother sending the invitation to her in the first place. No matter, she wasn't exactly here to socialise; but it wouldn't hurt to try and be at least a little friendly with her prospective employer.

CRACK!! SHRRRRRRIPP!!

With her thought distracted by the sudden loud noise, Velka turned around to see that the large, four-armed purple coloured fur-being had decided to remove the back of the chair. "Apologies for the distraction. We Caticans don't often sit in seats with backrests or when we do, there's usually a hole cut out in the backrest..." Said a much smaller feline looking female as she apologised and waved her hand to try and get the attention of everyone.

A Catican huh? Not very often to I encounter someone from your species. It'll be interesting to learn and study more.

For now, Velka leant back in her chair a little and began to watch what the others did, as was her nature.
 

Athol

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Seeing that nobody had drawn on her, and that her ?potential? new boss had asked her to stay, she stowed her hold-out piece and found a seat. While the rest of the motely group introduced themselves, she simple sat and watched, taking the occasional nip from a flask she kept tucked into her suit.

So far they had her, the Shree, a pair of ?kitties? and a couple of clankers. As everyone was getting settled down as best they could, while their new boss did a final call for interested parties, she found herself joined by the smaller, and more human-looking, of the cats.

"I'm Irina. A pleasure to meet you. I'd like to thank you for taking care of that drunken man earlier but if you could assist me further, could you tell me anything you know about this job? To be truthful I didn't look over the details."

?Red? She replied, offering the flask as a way of greeting. Even out of the small opening of the neck of the flask, fumes could be seen in the air. The flask was partially full of ?shine made by on old fellow on Tortuga Drift, who made a living keeping the locals well inebriated. Shit?s good fer two things. Degreasing parts an? killin? brain cells. ?Sorry puss, honestly I wasn?t payin? too much attention. I just saw a posting that said ?Crew Needed? and I need work, so here I am. Sounds like it?s a merc gig though.?
 

Outcast107

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Walker grab the bottle of ale from Pit. Seeing the Junker giving the mechs a hard stare at the mech women. Sighing as he gave the paranoid Junker a small push. "Cool it," he simple said as he turn to look at both of them. "Pit here is a bit..distrustful of robots and other forms of AIs. Too long of a story to tell." Walker said as he took a swig of his ale.

He would then put the ale on the table as he smiled. Looking all around as he spied an ex-pirate, a Shree ,two cat aliens, two mechanical women, what seems to be an ex-TGR Marine, and two other humans. He look over at the two humans. Trying to gauge where they were from and who they used to work for. Though from their outfits and manners, nothing really fit. 'Must be Outer Colonies,' Walker thought.

"Now before I start, If you don't like the job or frankly don't like the pay. Thats fine. You are free to go no question asked. Though if you take this job, you follow my orders. Until the mission is finished. Got it? Good. Now before I hired you lot I like to hear about you some more. I'll start."

Walker said as he got comfy in his seat. "Names Rick Walker. Might have heard of me, might not. Don't really care which. I been with the TGR for a while before they honorable discharge me after a mission went bad. Don't ask me about it cause I don't like to talk about it. After a few months of wondering around I was starting to go low on funds. So I decide to put my skills to better use, and here I am now." He finish as he let the door open for anyone else to jump in next.
 

FalloutJack

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There appeared to be two possible issues with trying to pick up Red Mary as a wanted so-and-so from the immediate vicinity. The first was the large group of mercenaries, who of course may or may not be interested in staking out a claim on Miss Williams. The second was...whether or not there was even anything TO claim for finding and retrieving her. Grace still hadn't found anything on the database that might help. It's been years. She may have a past, but nobody may be interested. Well still...the gig itself may be worthwhile. With the guy looking to gain himself a crew asking everybody to walk in, Elliot and Grace exchanged a look and went inside.

"This may take a while. You want anything, Grace?"

She just shrugged. She could eat, she could wait. Elliot tapped into the commercial line and called the bartender downstairs.

"Yeah, I just got called into the VIP room with the mercs. Would you send somebody up with some sandwiches? Nothing fancy, just two slices of bread around something edible, preferrably meat."

Yes, Elliot was ordering sandwiches. What of it? Then...

CRACK!! SHRRRRRRIPP!!

Well, that was when the Caticans got Elliot's attention more. They were such a forceful people, sometimes. There seemed to be an explanation, but damn...was that really necessary? They seemed to have a colorful grouping here. Anyone of the uninitiated who walked in on this was gonna see some serious shit. The two seemingly-human mercs noticed Red Mary talking to Irina the Catican now. Grace was focusing on each person, consecutively, determining if they had anything particularly interesting posted about them. Nothing of consequence, though a few interesting points on those who were recognizable. The pilot of the Devil-Fish was here, for instance. Her identity was a matter of public record, easy to reach with her implant. Pit, however, was obviously not gonna be easy, being the paranoid 'round these parts.

It was at this point that the guy who wanted to be the boss decided to address them all with his opening speech. It wasn't bad, but explaining that he was fairly new at the mercenary game probably wasn't the best thing to do. Of course, he said that anybody could take a walk, as needed. Since there appeared to be a lull in activity, plus his food hadn't arrived yet. Elliot pulled out cig-pack from his coat, lit up, and took a drag. Hey, if they were going to get cozey and talk, they may as well go all the way, right? Walker was gonna find out about such a habit at some point, anyway. He broke the silence now.

"I'm Elliot Gratsky. Some of you might know me, mostly around the mercenary circles. I've been at it a few years, not long after I got out of the Marines. Nothing weird happened. Did my tour, lived to tell, and now I use my skills for a living. Got a ship, fair amount of guns, and plenty of experience."

Just then, the door opened aaand a young man went "WTF?" at the scene inside. He was holding a plate of sandwiches.

"I also ordered lunch. Yo! Over here!"

The man came over quietly, delivered and got paid, and then quickly left. He didn't want any of this on him. Elliot took a bite of his as Grace picked one up herself. He didn't order enough for everybody, but the plate had a few extra. Grace did not seem to be in any hurry to speak up here, so...onto the next person!
 

Anti-American Eagle

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"Get in here and take a saeat..all of you take a seat..I'll be back in a moment."

Warnings hazily flashed in Brian's head as he stepped in and took a seat at the table, not that they made sense to him as his eyes lazily drifted towards the pretty spliced woman that vaguely resembled a humanoid cat. Watching the purple thing wreck the chair, Brian started noticing the rest of the room.

"Apologies for the distraction. We Caticans don't often sit in seats with back rests or when we do, there's usually a hole cut out in the back rest..." Catican... What was a Catican? Had he dealt with them before?

Brian tuned in as what he assumed to be the boss of the operation speak up again "Now before I start, If you don't like the job or frankly don't like the pay. Thats fine. You are free to go no question asked. Though if you take this job, you follow my orders. Until the mission is finished. Got it? Good. Now before I hired you lot I like to hear about you some more. I'll start. Names Rick Walker. Might have heard of me, might not. Don't really care which. I been with the TGR for a while before they honorable discharge me after a mission went bad. Don't ask me about it cause I don't like to talk about it. After a few months of wondering around I was starting to go low on funds. So I decide to put my skills to better use, and here I am now."

Not really thinking, after Elliot spoke, Brian spoke, "My name's Brian Wojtek. I have several decades of frontline experience operating Kodiak armour under the TGR's marine corp, and about a half decade of working outside it."
 

Texas Joker 52

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Terran Grand Republic Territory Border | Drift Station | Warden's Tooth Bar, VIP Room
"Please form an orderly queue and be seated."
[hr]

As Walker, either her prospective employer or the representative of same, listened to her give a quick-and-dirty summary of the bare minimum of what he needed to know about her, Mar noticed the small smile that spread on his face. It was one of those little Terran expressions that she had picked up while growing on Black Ocean: Terrans usually considered baring ones teeth like that to be a friendly gesture when it was done with such ease. Shree, on the other hand, tended to consider it a very predatory and threatening gesture.

Mar, having experienced the mixture of various cultures growing up, appreciated it in a more Terran fashion, seeing it as a friendly gesture. It also made Walker look a little less imposing, at least as far as Terran's went.

Both three of them were immediately joined soon after by a quadruped robotic frame, and a pair of Catican if she figured right, male and female. Though it could be hard to tell, since some Caticans could look vastly different from one another to the point where, those who didn't know about their people at all or their cultures, would think that they came from completely different species in the first place. Though, from what little she had head about them, that was at least partly true. Mar only had some vague knowledge of them at best, and while the female looked almost like a Terran herself, the male was a large, four-armed purple fuzz monster.

Entertained by the new arrivals, Mar merely lounged back in her chair and watched as Walker spotted the others outside, called them in, and they all took their seats, with the Catican Male breaking through the seat of his own chair to presumably make room for his tail. The final count was five Terrans, two Caticans, one individual whose race, or even gender, was something that Mar couldn't really pick out, the robotic quadruped that looked vaguely feline, like that Terran Puma that she had heard about once from an Ex-TGR Marine, and lastly herself, a Shree. Quite the interesting crew, she thought with a small huff of amusement as Walker spoke up again.

"Now before I start, If you don't like the job or frankly don't like the pay. Thats fine. You are free to go no question asked. Though if you take this job, you follow my orders. Until the mission is finished. Got it? Good. Now before I hired you lot I like to hear about you some more. I'll start."

As he got a little more comfortable in his seat, Mar shifted her own position, leaning forward and draping both true-arms and false-arms over her thighs as she listened a little more intently.

"Names Rick Walker. Might have heard of me, might not. Don't really care which. I been with the TGR for a while before they honorable discharge me after a mission went bad. Don't ask me about it cause I don't like to talk about it. After a few months of wondering around I was starting to go low on funds. So I decide to put my skills to better use, and here I am now."

"Sounds reasonable enough to me. So long as we don't commit blatant piracy or unforgivable acts of terrorism on innocent people, I'm generally fine with whatever you'll tell me. So long as I get to fly, that is." she said, with a crooked smile that revealed quite a few rows of teeth.