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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Apr 29, 2020 1:17:32 GMT
“SHIFT, you stupid god damn sonofa OW!”
Biting down on his knuckle helped the pain, needing to refocus before he could continue with his repair. Of course, it didn’t help that the tools he was using were almost as old as the panel he was working on. The rust had gotten so thick that he had been straining to shift the heavy nut when his screwdriver slipped and ripped the skin of his braced hand. Looking down at the injury, Ren made a face at the tiny scrapes of skin that had to fade from a sharp throb, the sensation slowly coming back under control. It wasn’t even bleeding, so he swallowed the feeling and kept working.
It took chipping at the rust to finally loosen the final nut, letting the cover come loose at last. He pulled it off and tossed it over his shoulder casually, but as the metal sheet was as weightless as everything else on the ship at that moment, it didn’t end up clanging into the bulkhead for a few minutes. Ren worked quickly in spite of a few sparks as the wires argued with his repairs, knowing that he was right and that the old ship was just on its last legs. He really shouldn’t have bought it… being affordable should have been the biggest red flag. But he wasn’t about to die only a few hours from the nearest port. So with a few more tweaks, twisting wires together and pushing power lines back into place, he flipped the switch and was quickly rewarded with the sudden hum of the gravity working again.
Less than a minute later, he woke up, head throbbing.
The “ow” this time was silent but prolonged as his hands went to his head, putting pressure where his skull had collided with the deck. He looked around in bewilderment, until he saw the mattress a good two meters from where he had tied it down… evidently, he had done a poor job of it. Why were the gravity controls up in the ceiling, anyway? “Stupid engineers…” he muttered as soon as he could sit up, stretching and rubbing at all of the new sore spots the crash landing had given him. Oh, how his grandpa would laugh to have seen that… then again, the ship probably wouldn’t have dared so much as creak with the old mechanic on board. The man had tried to teach Ren everything he knew, but fortunately enough had stuck that he could at least save his own skin.
With another rub at his head, waiting for the feeling to pass, Ren finally got up to head into the cockpit, flipping switches and bringing up screens to read. His repairs had worked; now, to get somewhere with more oxygen than his little ship…
---
The port master was a large gentleman, round up and down from the puffed up cheeks through to the warty, mottled tentacles. Six mobile eyes watched the ship dock warily, as if expecting it to explode at any moment given how much rattling could be seen as it flew in. Finally, it settled into place, one outer panel falling off as it bumped against the airlock. The artificial gravity inside the space dock meant the metal went skittering down instead of floating off, the clanging bounces audible even in his office.
With a few sighs and huffs, the Blaksprutte slid out of his office and into the main corridor to confront the new arrival, unfazed by the unusual mix he saw walking all too casually from the near wreckage. A young human, tall for the species and leanly built, fair skin and form fitting clothes aside from the heavy jacket slung over one arm… and vivid blue hair, unkempt save for the one thin braid that fell just in front of his right shoulder. The human was busy dusting off the coat and fiddling with one relatively small bag, blissfully ignorant that he was being watched, which was good. Even more striking than the hair was the massive burn mark that spread across the front of his left shoulder all the way up to his neck. Clearly, it was usually hidden in the jacket, but with the cut of his shirt it was painfully obvious. But the mark was also obviously old, and the ship wasn’t on fire.
Yet, the port master reminded himself as the machine suddenly let out a spark, making both of them jump.
It was this joint reaction that finally alerted the human to the other’s presence, pausing in his step even as his gaze shifted up, initially wary before becoming tense with uncertainty as their eyes met and held.
But then, the port master was old enough to recognize Av’tek eyes when he saw them. They were sized for a human, but they were still distinctively metallic, a glittering silver that was too alive to be robotic. He knew better than to assume they were implants. HIs calculating gaze just wasn’t as good at hiding his detailed studies, nor the pause of recognition.
The tension in the human was understandable, obviously startled by the identification of his heritage through his eyes, so the Blaksprutte’s study shifted to the ship instead, still able to feel the worried stare. “Hmph. I hope you’re not planning on flying out again without repairs,” he grunted, tutting at the condition of the ship behind the human. The human visibly relaxed at the shift in topic, glancing back over his shoulder. “I don’t think it’s flying out again any time soon,” he replied easily enough, able to control his voice in spite of his earlier fear. But his cockiness earned another huffy tut. “I’m amazed you were able to get it to fly in at all, nevermind so smoothly. What a horrible way to treat such a valuable antique!” he complained, moving over to study the ship outside the hallway’s window, clearly assessing what he would do with such a craft.
“Valuable?” the human echoed, suddenly amused, but the port master caught the edge to his tone, looking over at him. With a quirk of his lips, a roguish, crooked smile, the human looked over the much larger green figure, then back to the ship. “Enough to trade for the parking fee?”
The Blaksprutte immediately shifted and tutted as if insulted or outraged, but the crooked smile only deepened at the completely flustered reaction. “I, I couldn’t, that ship’s worth more than that!” he finally managed back in basic, but he was clearly tempted. The human laughed, shaking his head.
“I got it mostly broken for a dime, and found out I’m definitely better suited to flying than restoring. You’d be doing me a favor by taking it off my hands.” The port master shifted all of his coils again, muttering to himself as his eyes kept darting between the pilot and ship, clearly torn but finally giving in with a sigh, all of his shoulders sagging. This was not a normal transaction…
The human laughed, tossing over the key with an easy swing before setting the bag down long enough to sort out the jacket, walking on as if a weight had been lifted. The port master watched him walk away, wondering how much of the generosity was borne from a real need. Could he have paid for parking? He wasn’t carrying many possessions, perhaps that was all he had to trade… or maybe the ship really was enough of a relic that it was too expensive to restore.
Or had it been because he hadn’t been betrayed? Obviously the Av’tek side of him was recognized, but not so much as mentioned as a commodity. For those at risk of being paralyzed by mere touch, such protection was valued. With another tut and mutter to himself, the port master began back towards his office, already trying to decide which mechanic to take the ship in order to make it usable again.
And, of course, which was the least likely to try and swindle him in the process.
---
Dim lights, the heavy smell of alcohol wafting in the air, mixing with the sweaty, mechanical scents from a dozen different worlds… ah, nothing quite like a space station’s bar. Ren walked with purpose, calmer for the Blaksprutte’s response to him. Had the port master been human, it might have been quite a different matter. HIs eyes always managed to catch attention, but it was easy to play at them being implants, an artificial aesthetic “like” his hair. Especially in less civilized areas, such modifications were fairly commonplace, if often dangerous to acquire.
About half of the people who were in the bar had such modifications, some in their skin, some replacing eyes or limbs, and not always with scars showing that the upgrades were necessary. Several eyes, both natural and not, watched the newcomer walk in, heading confidently to the counter to order. Ren didn’t have a lot of money on him, but he was good at saving, and so easily paid for his food and drink, the droid whizzing off to serve an already pulled drink it had worked on with two of its six available arms.
As he waited, Ren stretched his arms forward, rolling his neck around to get rid of some of the stiffness his earlier crash had caused. He did this in his own space claimed by his seat, so feeling a shoulder shove into his back was less than expected, earning a grunt that swallowed up a whimper. The shock of sudden contact was only dampened by being through his coat, feeling tingling going all the way down to his fingers from the shock. Shakily, Ren swallowed hard, holding his breath until he could regain control, hands steady, straightening up and turning to look at the rude creature who had not so innocently run into him. It was a Lutan, and a large one, a good foot taller had Ren been standing, covered in shaggy hair and grinning with sharp teeth. The implication of the “accident” was clear; I want your chair. Nevermind the open spaces elsewhere, but the pilot was one of the few on his own. And the Lutan weren’t exactly known for their diplomacy.
Ren’s gaze moved up and down the Lutan, weighing his options and carefully considering the space he had moved into. Then, of all things, he sighed and turned back in his seat, not even asking for an apology for the unwarranted hit. There was a confidence in his movements that suggested he was able to fight, but that he felt it wasn’t worth his time. This earned him a sharp growl from the prideful alien, who was more than willing to strike first with an open, claw tipped hand.
Before the fight could go anywhere, however, a firm hand grabbed the arm about to slice into Ren’s back. Watching in the reflection behind the bar, Ren watched with a barely controlled smirk as the port constable began bodily hauling the struggling, growling alien out, the droid’s impassive voice reading rights even as the scene earned sneering laughs and hoots from the others at the bar.
If Ren hadn’t seen the machine when walking in, he might have avoided being so openly defiant with the Lutan. He would easily have been ripped to shreds by those massive claws. Ren could fight, but there was no surviving a Lutan without any armor or weapons. And one good hit might be enough to paralyze him anyway. But he’d been safe, and still was as another robot began making a round through the shop, maintaining peace on the old space station.
This was why it was surprising for Ren to hear someone come up behind him not long after. Ren pretended not to notice as the droid had come back with his drink at the same time, but he could see enough of a reflection to guess what was behind him. Human, an older male by the greying beard, dressed like a middle-class business owner. Potentially problematic… The stranger took a seat, leaning casually on the counter and silently taking in Ren’s unusual coloring. The pilot managed to keep his twitch from the study down, able to guess that the man was a “purist” - one who thought that the only thing that was acceptable was what was natural for his own kind. They came in many forms and species, but they were all a pain in the ass to deal with.
Ren stared ahead calmly even as he took a long swallow from his cup, as if waiting to be left alone. Finally the man spoke, Ren licking his lips clean as he continued to not look at his unwanted companion.
“Pretty gutsy attitude back there with the mutt,” the man began, taking a quick drink from his own glass. Again, Ren only just managed to control the twitch at the deep xenophobic tone, but he knew why he was being approached. Aside from his coloring, Ren passed as human, and in the depths of space like this with fewer humans to aliens, crews of all-humans were desperate to recruit any others they saw as like them. If only they knew…
Then again, anyone knowing meant he was in danger, so Ren knew better than to imagine too far as to what would happen.
“And?” Ren finally asked the man, looking over at him with only a hint of annoyance at being disturbed. He had a pretty good idea as to what was wanted, but he was eager to skip the alien-bashing when possible. The man laughed, putting a hand out. “Captain Mike Carver of the Barracuda,” he introduced himself, Ren having to force himself to take the offered hand. He might be a xenophobic bastard… but he was also more likely to pay better just to keep another “human” on his crew. “Ren Ayers, pilot,” he replied easily enough, immediately earning a big smile. “How did you know I was looking for a pilot?” he asked, leaning in a little.
“I need a pilot to replace my current one. Man can navigate a star field blindfolded, but he’s gettin’ slow in the reflexes, y’know? And you’ve got spunk, kid, just what’s needed in a pilot! I pay well, job conditions are pretty damn good for this hellhole in space… and you won’t have to deal with any scumbags.”
Ren just barely caught the twitch this time, knowing exactly what was meant by scumbag. His buoyed mood from the port master’s silent support had cratered completely, but… it was a job. “First payment up front. No contract,” Ren quickly argued, the captain looking surprised at the clarification. Then, with a sudden and knowing smile that made Ren’s skin crawl, he chuckled and mockingly toasted Ren with his drink. “Sure, no contract. You can leave whenever ya want to.” Ren nodded, but was already questioning his choice. As if he’d ever even consider…! With an asshole personality like that? Not to mention the dirty hands and overall slime ball aura…
So this was a guy who went for modifications, then. Ren would have to make sure to keep his distance; there was little doubt the man wouldn’t take advantage if it was presented, even if only to put another alien in its place.
The droid returned at last with his food, Ren taking it before considering Carver again. His words only deepened the man's smile. “Which dock were you in?”
---
Carver hadn’t been just looking for a pilot. Seemed half his crew was new, getting lost on the large cargo ship all too easily and being barked at to go the other way. At least the ship was similar enough for the cockpit to be in the same place, so it was only trying to find his quarters that Ren got lost himself. One quiet figure, who seemed more speechless at his hair than any had before, pointed the way without making a pass, marking him as one that was safe to keep his back to.
That didn’t hold true for two other apparent long-time crew members, who eyed him from down other hallways as he went along.
This was why, a few hours later when the ship was out of the space station and well on route, Ren set the auto pilot and left the slightly yet clearly deranged navigator alone up there. The man had been gibbering, not from age so much as some drug that he insisted on holding onto tightly, if the glowing vial was any indication. At least the crew had kept to themselves, even the newbies didn’t seem interested in the pilot, only in moving the cargo and figuring out where the engines were. It was an easy enough job, and he had a decent payment in his pocket now for this first trip out to deliver orders from a dozen different companies and sellers.
Pah. Some job… he got his own little cabin, which was lucky since it locked. Not that he trusted the captain to not have a master key anyway, but there was enough to barricade the door against any of the crew if needed. This was a stupid idea, even Ren had to admit, but he had to deal with what was now.
God, though, he needed a smoke… Ren noted the need for a drug with irony as he made his way around, less looking for a specific place so much as a lonely one. Finally he found it in one of the larger cargo areas. There were boxes, ships, barrels and some rather unidentifiable forms under tarps throughout the massive space, held in place by cords on powered-down palettes to keep them from tipping over. This was one of the first cargo spaces to be filled, so it was already shut down, only a few running lights illuminating the dark forms and enhancing the shadows. Ren moved towards a back corner as quietly as he could, checking over his shoulder to make sure no one had followed him. Then, settling into what felt like a soft, oversized sofa with a thick protective drape over it, he lit up a cigarette. Not the best thing to light up when on a space ship, he knew, especially around unknown items that might be flammable. But he was fast, and if something tried to spark he’d have it out easy enough, he reasoned.
So he slid the arms off his jacket, once more revealing the burn mark, and settled back in, lazily watching the smoke circle over him. The cool air in the space felt good after wearing the coat so long in a cramped, warm cockpit, and rather than chill him it calmed him, letting his eyes close as he took another breath in, letting his visible breath out slowly.
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Post by Kelathi on May 1, 2020 0:33:14 GMT
The smell of the ship was overbearing, especially for an individual that was used to fresh, clean air. It brought back memories of her childhood, when great, metallic beasts laden with various treasures would come into port. Back when relations were better, and her planet was not isolated in the way it had now become. Few foreign ships made port there now, and when they did, exchanges were often quick and tense. Such was the result of politics, the price of rising tensions and a rapidly changing universe. The elders sometimes pondered on how the past seemed to be rising back up, but in truth, despite these musings, they knew better. They knew that the poison had always been there, muddying the water and lying in wait like a squatting toad, waiting for it’s chance to catch a foothold and rise up once more. It was often said that madness was infectious, but so too it seemed, was xenophobia. This resurgence of such a mindset was not a surprise, but it’s affect rippled across the galaxy. As most things do, it had begun small. It had started with the birth of a relatively modestly numbered extremist group, but like a single drop of water in a pool, those ripples had merely grown with time.
She had been desperate. Had she not been, there would have been no way that she would have made dealings with such a creature. Not because of his species, but rather, because of the sly twinkle in his eye. She’d seen it before, and she knew that beneath his smile was a thinly veiled hatred for anything he considered ‘other’ and therefore not equal to himself. It was telling by the way his eyes roamed over her with distaste as she had approached, especially pausing on the markings on her face, which had strayed from their usual relaxed lilac colour and taken on a yellow hue in her nervousness. She knew that not all humans harboured feelings for other species like he did, so she tried not to tar them all with the same brush. However, from her experience, it did seem that much of the xenophobia stemmed predominantly human purists. For this stranger, she’d broken off a piece of her intricate chest-piece, and in exchange he’d helped her sneak onto the ship. It seemed he was not too good for alien jewellery, and was happy to bend his purist ideologies when it suited him. Two ports later and the price for his continued silence had steadily become heftier, and she finally realized the true extent as to the danger she was in. She was beholden to him now, and at the mercy of his whims. There would come a time where there would be no more jewellery to bribe him with, nothing left for him to take. Or at least, nothing she would willingly give up. She realized now what a fool she had been, how her desperation had blinded her to the flaws in her plan. He had cheated her, he would bleed her dry, and then there would be nothing to stop him giving her up anyway.
She should have left at the last port, but the ship had been bustling with activity, and she knew that should she try to sneak off without help she would easily be caught. So she huddled in the cargo area of the ship, frightened and miserable, waiting for the human to come back and find he had taken what was left of her treasures. Perhaps after outing her they would take her horns, she realized with a deep-seated dread, her hand immediately shooting up to touch the rugged texture through the cloth she’d draped over them. She’d heard horror stories that people would pay a hefty price for such a commodity, rumours of creatures harvesting her kind like cattle just to cut their horns from them once they had grown. Those that were more intricately carved, such as her own, were said to be especially valuable. The thought was enough to make her go cold all over, and she could feel a lump form in her throat. A hand shot up to seek out the vial hanging from a small chain about her neck, and she grasped it tightly. With the contact, she felt the tension slowly begin to melt away, and her racing heart begin to slow and settle into a more collected pace. The fog of terror began to steadily lift. If they came for her horns, she decided, she would drink the vial and be done with it all, and strangely enough, that morbid thought calmed her. It gave her some control over her own fate.
She heard the soft sound of air escaping then, which steamrolled through her spiraling thoughts. The scrape of metal on rubber as the sliding door opened, a steady hum of chatter from the outside, and then silence. She knew that someone had entered the hold. Her entire body immediately stiffened, sure that she knew immediately who it was, and what he had come for, her fist tightening around the glass vial and her heart beginning to race once more. But instead of the heavy, clumping footsteps she had come to associate with the human she had dealings with; these footsteps were light and unassuming. She listened carefully, her ears perking up as she tried to learn as much about the newcomer as possible just through listening, her tail twitching nervously. A lean build, a slightly wary air, as if searching for something, or about to do something they shouldn’t. Then she heard a sigh, (at which point she identified the newcomer as male), perhaps of relief as he settled down, and soon enough the smell of smoke wafted into the air. It was not unpleasant; in fact the earthy, burning smell was a welcome change to the constant barrage of the scent of technology, with its plastic-sheathed wires and warm metal.
She stayed incredibly still, curious, but ignoring the urge to peek over the top of the cargo she was currently hiding behind, wariness and logic overcoming the desire to see whom had joined her. Instead, she stared wide-eyed into the gloom, listening, every cell of her body alert as she concentrated on the man’s presence. In such anticipation of danger, her tail desperately wanted to twitch, but she bit her lip instead, brow furrowed as she concentrated on keeping as motionless as possible. She wasn’t sure how long she stayed that way, but by the time she heard the door open a second time her entire body now ached from the tension. At first, she had been puzzled, thinking that perhaps she had been so wrapped up in her thoughts that she’d missed the sounds of the man standing to depart. But by the scrambling that followed, the sound of the first man leaping up, she realized with alarm that someone else must have entered. She cursed in her mind. She was now trapped in the hold with two people to avoid… She moved silently into a crouch, ready to move if needs be, desperately trying to work out the exact positions of the two, so that she could map her route through the hold and avoid the sight-lines of both… all the while trying to ignore the rising panic in the pit of her stomach.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on May 1, 2020 1:06:50 GMT
It was good that the tarp he was sitting on wasn’t flammable, as lying alone in the dark was more relaxing than he had expected. His hand had drooped, the cigarette dropping a few pieces of ash on the tarp before they fell to the floor harmlessly. It was heat near his hand that made him look down, quickly pulling it up and taking a drag before he lost the rest of it. Damn… how long had he let it just burn?
The sound of the door sliding open made him stiffen, the very incriminating evidence still offering soft illumination. Ren jumped up, smashing the cigarette into the floor before it had finished landing. Heart racing, he quickly whipped the jacket back on, wanting no one to be curious about the massive burn scar. If they tried to see that, they’d end up seeing… the rest.
Ren weaved his way between items, resisting the urge to duck down in case he was spotted. This way he could claim he wasn’t trying to steal anything; being too sneaky would make him too suspicious. With light steps, he quickly twisted around a few large shapes intending to get away… but instead, he found himself at a crossroads.
Coming around one corner nearly tripped him over a figure, and to the side he saw another figure stop short, calling out to him suspiciously. Ren’s eyes jumped from the figure on the floor to the one calling then back, momentarily shocked into silence. The figure on the ground had looked up at him, locking with inhuman eyes. The other had a very gruff voice with a whiny edge, and certainly more in keeping with the other crewmen.
“Oi! What are you doing in here? No one’s allowed in here!” the man had called out, sounding pissed, but also somewhat nervous. Obviously, he wasn’t supposed to be in there either. Ren’s gaze remained locked with the woman on the ground, but not completely in shock. His expression softened, a look of distaste coming over his expression, as if about to reveal a secret. HIs tone certainly said he was.
“Dude, I think we got rats.”
“You… you what?”
Eyebrows raised in a disinterested, innocent look, Ren turned to the man, who had gone from pretending he had the moral authority to be questioning another crew member… to being completely baffled by the response he got. “Mm. Big one too. Six legs at least, all furry and spiky. And I think I saw mandibles…”
The man’s eyes went comically large as Ren continued to describe what he had “seen,” as horrified as he was disgusted, the “evidence” being Ren continuing to watch the same area as if expecting something to crawl out. “You… rats don’t look like that!” the man argued, but he was not sounding so convinced that there wasn’t something there. Ren scoffed. “Well, I sure as hell don’t know what else to call a pest on a ship in a cargo hold…”
“Oh right! Th-there’s no way this ship has something like that! You must be seeing things!”
“I’d be a damn poor pilot if I couldn’t see that thing that ran under there,” Ren growled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Captain Carver wanted me to take a quick look around, make sure nothing got on. But apparently, something did because this lazy ass crew screwed up. You wanna tell the captain that we’ve got something living in here, or do you want to help me actually deal with it?”
The man nervously looked around, noting the silence in the space. The lack of sound didn’t provide comfort. So he scoffed, straightened up a little, and turned on his heel. “Pah. You deal with your imaginary rat things, modifier!” he cursed, then bolted with a whimper.
Bolted, because Ren had taken out his cigarette pack and tossed it against a box, creating enough of a sound to spook the man into escaping the hold as quickly as possible. A wicked grin settled on his features as the door opened and closed again, and silence once more met the room. He looked down at the woman again, his expression becoming genuine and a little uncertain as to what to do next, but he distracted himself with his cigarettes. “Oh hell… I didn’t throw them that hard,” he muttered as he discovered the dent in the corner of the box, quickly checking the condition of the contents.
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Post by Kelathi on May 1, 2020 1:45:08 GMT
She had moved away from the approaching footsteps of the newcomer, quietly, carefully… but then the smoking man had decided to change direction suddenly, stepping directly in front of her. Both had stilled, their gazes locking. At first, her wide, yellow eyes only showed shock at having been caught. As the man’s expression turned to the now all-too familiar look of distaste, her own very quickly turned to fear. She was certain it was over, and he would turn her in, what reason had he not to? She knew she should leap up, and try to run, or resist in some way, but knowing there was no point, kept her still. Where could she go?
The man began to speak, looking up towards the newcomer. She could tell by his tone that he was disgusted, something that made her bristle on the inside, her jaw setting firmly, defiantly, and her eyes narrowing. She couldn’t understand what was being said, but she expected at any moment for the other to round the corner of her hiding place. But instead of hearing those dreaded footsteps come closer, she heard a change in the man, the purist’s, voice. Was that… fear? Her ears, which had drooped, tucked down upon having been discovered, perked up a little as she tried to decipher the man’s tone, her eyes fixed on the blue-haired stranger, trying to read what he was saying from his body language and his expression, and wondering why he had yet to try and grab her. There had been a pause, the silence had seemed immense… and then to her utter surprise, she heard the man leaving, and rather hurriedly it seemed. Was he leaving quickly to alert someone? Or was her intuition correct, that his retreat had been borne from fear, especially spurred on by the sound of the box that the human had dropped?
Who was this blue-haired stranger, and what had he said?
When the man looked back down at her, she looked puzzled, her attempt to process what was happening momentarily overtaking her wariness. It didn’t last, however, for as the man moved to retrieve the small box, she had shrunk back from him, thinking he meant to grab her. Then, hurriedly, she reached behind her neck, drawing her hair out from the wrap about her horns, being careful not to reveal them, and letting the locks fall over her shoulder. Her hair was pale even in the dark, thick and lustrous, it was gathered together by an intricate carved clasp of some unknown but clearly alien material. It was not quite metal but very similar, and very valuable. She had hoped to keep it if she could, it had been gifted to her by her mother on her naming day, a rite of passage for her kind when they came of age. An item that symbolised her identity. Slipping it from her hair, she offered it up to him, imploringly. It was the last material treasure that she had, and a last-ditch attempt at trying to buy some mercy.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on May 1, 2020 2:10:11 GMT
It took Ren a few moments before he looked up from examining the cigarette box, the surprise at her actions stilling his hands from trying to reshape the corner. In these types of places, cigarettes were hard to come by. He had seen her flinch from his grabbing the box, of course, his first thought to keep her from touching him, but she had pulled back instead. With a puzzled gaze, he shifted back a little as he watched her hold out the hair clip moments after removing it, wondering why she would be examining it in this awful light.
Then it dawned on him what she actually meant. His eyes went wide as he panicked, taking a much bigger step back, hands going up to quickly wave off the offer. “What- no no no no no no,” he began stammering, then after getting more than normal distance, finally regained some control of his response to cough and straighten up. “Look…” he began, then paused, considering her expression. “Don’t speak basic? Doesn’t speak basic. Ok… um. Shit.”
He dug into a pocket, thumbing out some of the money he had been paid for this job. Rather than offer it to her by hand, however, he put it on the ground, sliding it towards her. “Take it,” he went on, knowing she couldn’t understand but feeling awkward enough as was. “You use that to get on a safer ship at the next port, ok? Star port. Ship. Get help?”
Again, her reaction to what he was doing made him hesitate, sighing finally as he shook his head. If she didn’t speak basic, if she was hiding on this ship, she wasn’t going to turn him in. She was at more risk than he. But he could only think of one non-verbal way to show he wasn’t going to turn her in. Clearly conflicted about his own decision, he knelt down, glancing about briefly to make sure he couldn’t be seen. Then, pushing the jacket aside he lifted his shirt, showing his side.
For a moment, it seemed clear what he was trying to do, what he wanted from her in payment… but then the dim light hit the blue stripes that marked his torso, pale blue that was dotted with richer tones, a very natural, organic pattern that his skin was incomplete without. Not a tattoo. Av’tek.
Ren only lasted a few moments with his shirt up before quickly tucking it back down, looking around again very uncertainly. “Us non-humans gotta watch each other’s back, right?” he added softly, looking her over with some sympathy for her plight… and solidarity with it.
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Post by Kelathi on May 3, 2020 0:00:28 GMT
He had not only rejected her offer, but had looked quite panicked when doing so. Her look of bewilderment returned, her brow furrowing as she tried to work out why he was refusing her offer. Isn’t that what was needed? Payment for his silence? His next movement only confused her further, as he slid money towards her. With that, she merely blinked blankly, looking back up towards him questioningly. He was… helping her, without expecting payment? Her expression softened then, but she didn’t reach out for the money. It might buy her some more time with the human purist, but she knew by now that he had no intention of helping her get off the ship, which would be impossible without assistance. He would merely take it, as he had her other treasures, and give her up once he was done. Before she could try and explain as such, the man had moved in closer, and she eyed him warily, but did not pull away this time. As he lifted his shirt, her eyes widened with surprise at what she saw, before changing to a look of understanding. He was not human, that was why he was helping her. She wasn’t exactly sure what he said next, but she nodded, to show that she understood why he had shown her, why he was not turning her in. But she needed to explain about the other human, and ask for more assistance than money. So instead of reaching for it, she reached for him. If she could make bodily contact, she would be able to make him understand her, and vice versa.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on May 3, 2020 0:56:52 GMT
For obvious reasons, Ren was nervous about showing his non-human side. He saw the shift from surprise to understanding out of the corner of his eye, again checking over his shoulder in case someone had somehow managed to sneak in. So as she reached out, he looked back, his otherwise calm expression suddenly going wide eyed with fear.
He jumped back so fast that he actually knocked himself over, half crashing on his side as he scrambled from her outreached hand. It was a reaction of pure terror, his sharp breath proving a racing heart even as he tried to control it, as if aware of how random his reaction seemed. She hadn’t recognized the mark as Av’tek, which was fine, but it meant she didn’t know about just what her touch could do to him.
Very firmly tucking the shirt back down, Ren managed to quiet his breath a little, but not quite still his hands. “Um…” he began, very aware of how she was staring at him. Why would she reach out like that?! Hadn’t he made it clear that-
Wait. He’d handed over money, then started taking his shirt off.
Ren closed his eyes for a few moments, and it didn’t take a translator to understand he was feeling like an idiot. She was probably stowed in here to be someone’s pet, to avoid being found out. And she probably was stuck in that trade because she couldn’t speak basic. He had thought giving her the money would be enough to make sense, but obviously not.
Turning back to her, Ren tapped the money, then motioned putting it in his pocket. Then, with an awkward shrug of his jacket slipped it off, holding it over his head like her hood, then tapped one of the tarp-covered items beside them, completely covering his face with the jacket. Then, letting the jacket fall off his shoulders, laid out a hand flat and used his other fingers to indicate walking out.
Then, he watched her, his expression proving just how little he knew that she actually understood a damn thing he was trying to “say.” And for once, he wasn’t worried about someone seeing the burn on his shoulder.
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Post by Kelathi on May 3, 2020 1:12:21 GMT
The man leaping back with such force had been enough to make her jump too, snatching her hand away and shoving herself back, pressing against the crate behind her. Why he had had such a violent reaction to being reached out to was not clear, and for a moment she feared she had completely misjudged the situation. Maybe he feared other species? Why else would he be so alarmed by her reaching for him? Her confusion only grew as he performed his little charade, and she watched silently, dumfounded and bemused. Then her brow furrowed, and she shook her head vigorously. She still did not really understand what he was saying, but maybe she could make him understand what she was trying to say. She motioned to his hand, and then to her ear, as if she was listening for something. At his blank look, she began to grow annoyed at his lack of comprehension, pointing at him more urgently, her mouth, her ear, and then holding her hand out towards him, palm up, as if expecting him to give something to her. Really, what she wanted him to give was his hand… As she slowly grew more frustrated, the colour of the stripes on her face had lost the yellow hue, rippling red and pink.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on May 3, 2020 1:26:05 GMT
His expression at the shake of her head wasn’t of annoyance, but an exasperated, Of course not, eyebrows shooting up even as he stared at her with lidded eyes and not quite a grimace.
Her own attempt at charades was even less helpful, Ren’s expression scrunching into one of total confusion. Mouth-ear…? She wanted to eat his ear? Hand? What? The shifting colors of her stripes momentarily distracted him, especially as he noticed her growing frustration with him seemed to make the markings pulsate.
Ooh. Not a good sign…?
Finally, his hand went to his mouth, for a moment seeming to understand… then tapped his fingers together in an eating motion, indicating the source of his confusion.
The door to the hold sudden beeped, Ren’s expression immediately melting from confusion to concern, looking over his shoulder and listening for anyone entering the room, his raised hand lowering slightly. The alien wasn’t the threat on board, after all…
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Post by Kelathi on May 3, 2020 21:10:24 GMT
How to make him understand? The man’s response showed he had no idea what she was trying to say, seeming to fixate on the mouth motion she had made and thinking she was talking about eating.
The sound of the door sliding open yet again caused them both to respond immediately, becoming alert and stiffening as if they had been caught doing something untoward. She couldn’t see from where she was who it was that had entered, but as the man looked away towards the source of the sound, she decided to cut to the chase whilst he was distracted- trying to explain was getting them nowhere, and it would soon become clear why she did what she did once they touched. So she reached up and grabbed his hand.
It was only a few seconds, but it was enough for her to sift through and pin point some understanding. It wasn’t exactly mind reading; she could not read his thoughts or feelings. But that brief touch was enough for her to pick out some understanding of his language. Prolonged contact would only improve this understanding, but from the strange way the man had responded just to her brief touch made her pull away just as quickly as she had grabbed him, looking at him with both alarm and interest.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on May 3, 2020 21:52:51 GMT
There was muttering at the door, Ren only able to pick up a few words indicating annoyance about reports of rats… heh, so the guy needed his own excuse for being around there. He was about to turn back to the woman, to figure out at least one next step because of the language barrier, but she grabbed his hand first.
With an involuntary twitch, Ren’s entire body jolted at the contact, momentarily blinded by the feeling and becoming stiff. As soon as he realized his hand was free he jerked back, scrambling several paces away to rest against another package, shaking even worse than before at her near touch. But this wasn’t simply a fear reaction as that had been; it took him almost a minute to come back to the moment, although as his gaze returned to the alien, he seemed a lot less trusting than before.
Of course, at that point Ren had no idea what had actually happened, leaning his head back with a muttered curse. “Shit, what is with you and touching?” he asked, very certain he wouldn’t be getting an answer.
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Post by Kelathi on May 3, 2020 22:33:33 GMT
As the newcomer left, she stood up, peeking over the various cargo to ensure that the person was definitely gone before turning to regard the stranger again. He was not happy with her impromptu grab, and she bowed her head slightly. “Sorry.” She apologised sheepishly, in basic. She was quick to try and explain, to smooth over the misunderstanding. She wasn’t sure why her touch had affected him so, but she was eager to show him why she had done so. “Touch… understand. Little.” She spoke haltingly, trying to process the words, and gesticulating her meaning. “Touch… more, understand… more.” Then, whilst he processed this, she motioned to the door. “Man. Know.” Pointing to herself, and then showing her clasp to him again, before gathering her hair and replacing it, tucking it back out of sight beneath her hood. “Take. For…” She paused, trying to think of the word. Then, coming up with nothing, she placed her finger to her lips, indicating silence. Trying to explain the situation with the other man. She pointed to the money he had tried to give her, shaking her head. “Man, take. No help.” She was trying to indicate that his money would just be taken, but the man would not help her off the ship.
Now, for the crucial part. She pointed at him again, and then at herself. “Help…?”
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on May 4, 2020 3:31:53 GMT
Ren’s expression went blank as she suddenly began to speak, staring at her in disbelief. This whole time, when he’d been pantomiming and trying to figure out how to communicate with one another, she could speak basic?!
Her words helped fill in the gaps. So she could learn how to speak a new language if she touched someone? Even their brief interaction had given her enough words to at least share simple concepts, although in some ways it wasn’t quite so clear and took some serious consideration.
“Man know?” he softly repeated, considering what she might mean. This time, her showing him the clasp made sense, understanding lighting up his eyes. “Oh! You pay him to stay quiet and help you with being on ship,” he summarized, then made a face. “Dick move, dragging you onto a human-purist ship…” He could fill in enough of the gaps in this part of her story to understand her hesitation with taking the money. She also managed to summarize it with one word, a universal call.
Ren sighed; the whole point of giving her money was to help her escape. Biting his lip, he considered his options, finally moving a little closer to avoid revealing too much aloud. “Ok… I’ll help, but I’m… limited. Not much help,” he began, trying to keep his words on a similarly simple level for her to follow. He wasn’t about to reach out to help her expand her language “lesson,” still a little shaky from the first round. “You stay with me… I help get you off at next port. Then you take money, and get real help.”
For a moment, his eyes went back down to her hands, again chewing his lip. “Um… I help, but you, no touch. I can’t touch anyone. Is… bad for me.” Then, with a sigh, “Are you getting any of this?”
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Post by Kelathi on May 4, 2020 15:02:37 GMT
Her shoulders relaxed quite noticeably at his response to her plea for help, relief flooding through her. How good it felt to finally have an ally in this strange place! And one who didn’t seem to want anything from her in return. It was a rare find, and she was thankful. She placed her hands on her chest over her heart, then offered them towards him in one smooth motion, palms up as if offering him something, or waiting to receive something from him. But she didn’t linger there, her arms dropping back down once the move was complete, showing that she wasn’t asking for anything this time. In fact, she was thanking him in the non-verbal way often used by her people.
As he spoke again, she nodded eagerly, although many of the words he spoke were unfamiliar, she got the basic premise. He was going to help her, that was the main thing. At his condition to his assistance, to confirm her understanding, she tapped her own arm, and uttered the word, ‘No.” whilst shaking her head. No touching; she understood. The colours of her face had settled now into a pleasing pinky-lilac, and her yellow eyes had softened, no longer wide with fear and suspicion.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on May 5, 2020 0:26:44 GMT
Ren immediately leaned back at her outstretched hands again, although his reaction was to avoid being paid… but then she pulled her hands back again, and he suddenly considered another meaning.
“Um… you’re welcome?”
Or did she not mean thank you? Ugh… if only she didn’t need touch to learn his language!
At least some of his words had made it through, she demonstrating that she understood she couldn’t touch him. A relieved little smile danced on his lips at that, noting too how her own colors had settled now there was some communication. Not a lot, but some at least.
Again considering what the next step should be out loud, Ren rubbed at the back of his neck, looking the woman over, particularly her horns with an expression that could only be read as “what do we do about those?”
“Ok, so step one, get you out of the hold here… step two is easy, you can just hide in my room. But… wait… there’s no way that we can get you off without that dick knowing you disappeared… there’s no way you can wait until a port.”
That meant stealing a ship. An escape pod, maybe? What would be the least likely to be guarded? But he’d also have to go with her… “If he finds out you disappeared, he’ll know I was involved. Damn. Well… I did say no contract.”
Ren sighed, shaking his head a little. “Ok, first things first: we need to get you out of here.” Biting his lip in concentration, he stared pointedly at her horns under the cover, still visibly inhuman. Shaking his head, he stood up, jacket in one hand as he motioned for her to follow. “Well… let’s see if we can’t figure out something on the way.”
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It took them over an hour to make it to the room, rather than the 20-minute walk it should have been. Ducking behind corridors and changing routes to avoid the crew was enough to disorient the pilot as they worked their way through, even managing to hide in another hold. This one, however, held only one large item, and Ren had marveled at it.
They would need a ship… and this ship was clearly not going to some law-abiding citizen. The equivalent of a personal yacht, except the class Ren knew would be equipped with blockers, making it untraceable. He’d been too excited to keep his words simple enough to be fully understood, but the woman seemed to get that it was their ticket out.
While wandering back towards his cabin, they also made a detour through the engineering section, and with quick thinking and quicker hands, the alien had grabbed one of the full-head masks for working with the hot engine cores. Hiding her horns but just hiding her eyes, Ren took his coat to wrap around her as if she was half a foot taller, and had her grab his arm through the jacket sleeve as they finally made their way to his cabin. The touch through the jacket only caused a momentary jolt, not nearly the panic from the brief touch of skin before.
Ren seemed to melt into the floor as the cabin door closed and locked behind them, bracing an arm against the wall for support. “Bloody hell, that took forever…” he groused, intentionally breathing hard to relieve some of the stress. Straightening up, he glanced at the time before running his hands through his hair, only making it look more disheveled.
“Oof. Right, ok, dinner should be ready… I’ll go grab as much as they’ll let me, and we can split. Ok? I hope you can eat human food.” A pause, then, “I sure hope it’s actual food… be right back. Stay here.” And with that, he squared his shoulders and left the room, letting the door close before waiting to hear it lock behind him.
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The dinner alone would make him want to jump ship anyway. So much for the money and the “great company” - they were eating military rations! Big bags of dry, must-add-water mud with some seasoning and added protein and vitamins. Oh, and the candy bar, of course… probably even more stale than the rest of it. Because these were so cheap, no one batted an eye at his taking a few handfuls, carrying them down to eat in his cabin since there clearly wasn’t enough room at the table for him.
He had reached his cabin door, about to knock on it to let the alien woman know it was him - damn, he still needed her name… - when he was interrupted by a voice at the end of the hall, jumping a little as he turned.
And inwardly cringed.
“Not joining us for dinner, kid?” the captain asked, his jacket conspicuously missing from before, and a totally different hunger in his gaze as he looked over his new pilot. Ren swallowed hard to regain his voice, setting some of the bags on the floor to look for his key. “Not feeling up to it tonight,” he replied, managing to keep his voice even as he unlocked the door, sliding it open and tossing the meals inside. Carver began walking up to him, Ren pausing a little as he did, mind racing. “Aw, why not? I know the food’s not gourmet, but the company’s not so bad.”
If the captain came close enough to the door, there was a very strong chance he’d see the alien inside. So when the man was a few paces off, Ren stepped towards him and blocked the way to his cabin, head tilted. “It’s been a long day, a lot of new faces and names. I just need some space to process,” Ren argued, not yet realizing his big mistake.
Carver readily made him aware of it, reaching out and grabbing his arm in what was supposed to look like a friendly, non-forceful shake. “Well, maybe you just need… one new face to get used to,” he purred, the grin on his face growing possessive at Ren’s reaction.
He’d forgotten to put his jacket back on. The captain was grabbing his skin, and not just letting go as he gasped, stilling as the sensation hit him hard. Carver considered his tension, and misread it entirely, pushing in closer to pin Ren against the wall, sliding his hands up and down his arms, earning panicked gasps and whimpers. “You know, as a responsible captain, I’m supposed to… take good care of my crew,” he murmured, pushing in to take a deep breath at Ren’s neck, obviously thinking that the pilot was simply shy.
Ren’s eyes were wide but unfocused, as if gripped in terror and physical shock at the same time. All he could do in motion was tremble, too disoriented to even fight back.
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