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Post by Bishop Morse on May 6, 2012 8:35:00 GMT -5
Longstreet
Longstreet moved over in his chair so that it was more centered with the desk itself. It had been slightly off when he sat down, and so he adjusted it using only his legs that it was where he preferred it. He liked keeping things in order, especially things that directly involved him. ”You are currently commanding that vessel sitting outside.” Longstreet mentioned. ”It has falsified papers, and you, it’s commander, are wanted by the marshals of the Aliiance.” Longstreet said. This all was true, he knew it well enough. Not much was there that he wasn’t readily aware of. ”If you get back here in time for a little get together I’m having in a few weeks, those papers can be altered to have your name on them.”Longstreet said. ”And those warrants may…. get lost.” Longstreet said. How he would see such a thing happen, he wouldn’t mention, but he knew how to do it. The question was if Marcus was willing to hold the necessary aptitude as he had before. ”So,” Longstreet started. ”Are you still in?”Longstreet asked. Though he hadn’t quite said anything that would dissuade the person he was speaking to, he still found it best to ask.
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 6, 2012 8:35:12 GMT -5
Marcus followed Longstreet's movements, passively. Curious as to where the man was going with their conversation; when it came to the ship papers, and the erase of his warrants. His face slacked, and it was a moment before he recovered. "Yes, Sir!" He snapped to an almost military posture. That weight off his back, the ship in his name.
That was a prize worth fighting for. Digging around in the ruins of the dead was nothing compared to it.
"Shadow's in Georgia system. We leave tomorrow we should make good time." He nodded at the thought aloud, gears moving in his head, math going off for courses and how best to avoid Alliance entanglements. It would work, easy enough. Just take their time, don't look unusual.
"Sounds good, Sir. And thank you." He looked Longstreet straight in the eye, honest with every word.
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 6, 2012 8:35:45 GMT -5
Longstreet
From what he could tell, Marcus understood the offer that Longstreet had presented. That was good. Because it was important for people to understand when a good deal came along, and things just like this weren’t very common for Longstreet. Such a thing was also rare namely because there weren’t many people that were deserving such an offer. Marcus was showing particular prowess for such things, and Longstreet wasn’t one to take advantage of people. He liked to treat them as though they were people and a though they themselves would be as capable of what they were doing as he would be. Longstreet hadn’t had to do such a thing for a very long time, but as far as his mind was concerned, he was still capable. Though it was generally important for him to stay where he was, and that others who were not quite to his position to be doing those things.
”Very good.” Longstreet said, and nodding. He reactivated the console in front of him and picked up one of his data-pens, simultaneously moving one of the smart papers on the desk in front of him. ”I’ll leave you to it then. Happy hunting.” Longstreet said then lifting up the glass that was nearly empty, offering a sort of toast to the mission. He then brought it to his mouth and finished what was inside of it. After setting it down on the desk, he went immediately back to filling out a form that was in front of him. There were a number of these to get through, and he decided it was probably best to get through them in a timely fashion.
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 6, 2012 8:36:02 GMT -5
Marcus nodded again as Longstreet gave him a clear leave to exit. He was feeling excited, invigorated. More than that he had a heading. If there was ever a sign that the he was on the way up, this was it.
He opened the door out of the office and closed it behind him; excited to get the ship of the ground and onto their next venture.
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 6, 2012 8:36:27 GMT -5
The compound outside was fairly cool. It was a nice day considering how the last few had been. Of course that was poised to change not to long from then, but that wouldn’t matter. Morse, as much as he liked being outside, wasn’t likely to be doing that much over the next few days given the things he was having to do. Beaumonde was a funny planet like that. In many ways as civilized as the Central planets, and more industrious then any two planets that were in Georgia to Kalidasa. There was a very large population on the planet considering most of it’s neighbors. But Beaumonde presented by far the most opportunities. There was agriculture, industrial complex, oceanic hauling. Someone could come here and do virtually anything they wanted. Beaumonde was known for being such a spot for opportunity, and there were some that actually managed to get rich doing something there. Though most of those stories were actually riddled with dead uncle’s inheritance, or thieves taking it all, it was still a reality none the less. Exaggerated as they may be, such things had happened, though every world had stories like that. Beaumonde just had it boasted fairly often, in order to set it apart from it’s neighbors as the most distinguished Rim world.
The roar of the hover pads underneath the Heavy Mule was unmistakable by anyone that was in the area. It made a slight wind blow out from beneath it and at anyone who stood near it where they’re clothing would be flowing backward. The yellow vehicle had number of boxes all over its bed, which were organized so they wouldn’t be tipping over. The vehicle wasn’t moving very fast, as it couldn’t given where it was. It was a very large craft, and it was close to a very large red ship. And if it went off its control axis, that large craft would make a large dent in the very large red ship. In one of the seats at the top of the vehicle alone sat Morse. He kept only one hand on the control, and he held it at the base. He’d been driving large vehicles like that for a very long time. It came to a point where he just opted for relaxing while he did, rather then adhere to the ultimate degree of safety, especially now when he didn’t have to.
As he moved forward by the compound building, he looked next to him to find a short scruffy haired man walking out. He was close enough to him at that point where he’d be able to talk to him, at least loudly. ”I’m just throwin’ these in the back, in there.” Morse said pointing forward into the cargo bay. ”Its all the left over food supplies on the Logan.” Morse mentioned. He’d almost seemed to have given up calling it his ship entirely. He had gotten supplies for it not long before that, and it was a lot of food. He wasn’t about to throw it out, and so he was just shifting it over to this new vessel. ”Colonel give you a heading?” Morse asked. As he began to move the vehicle forward and up the ramp slowly so nothing would tip over, expecting Marcus to come forward with him. Morse typically had crew that would do this sort of thing for him, but he didn’t have any issue with doing it himself, since it gave him something to do.
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 6, 2012 8:36:52 GMT -5
Marcus could see the heavy mule as it moved into the open maw of his ship's cargo bay. He cleared the steps up to the pad, and the distance between the stairs and the ship. Morse yelled and spoke the contents of the cargo, which gave Marcus a smile.
"You did have some nice grub, last time." He stood next to Morse as he looked over the bay, again marveling at the size. Morse asked if Longstreet had given them a heading.
"Aye. Georgia system. I'll fill everyone in once we're near enough to it."
He looked around, admiring the skyline of Bellforge. It was something, this city. He liked the feel of it, and wouldn't mind calling it his home port."Weird, isn't Morse?" He crossed his arms and looked at the man. "If you'd tossed me away from your ship when we first met, how different things might be right now..." Though he remembered the moment, Morse was more likely to have shot him.
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 6, 2012 8:37:23 GMT -5
Morse moved the vehicle forward into the cargo bay. It drifted up the ramp slowly so as to not have anything tip over. The hover panels beneath it compensated by having the back ones pump harder so that the craft would stay more level as it went up the slope. But it wasn't completely without being on a decline so it had to remain slow. It wasn't very long to get up on the ramp, and in back further into the cargo bay. He stopped it where it was. There were still some more things to go get but he could get them in time. "Georgia." Morse repeated. "Lots a fun." Morse always preferred Kalidasa to the Georgia system. Georgia was the main place that people thought of when it came to the border, and also the main place people thought of when they thought Independents. In general Morse had some trouble dealing with the idiot stereotypes like were found over there a lot. But over all he was fine with it.
When Marcus began to go over about their previous dealings, Morse wasn't surprised. It was a bit weird for all of them, but it wasn't something that got in his way very much. Morse had worked with all sorts of people that he didn't want to work with before, and that was way worse then this. But he wasn't wrong about things turning out considerably different then just about anyone would have imagined. Morse stood up from the seat he was on."Ya." Morse responded. "But hey." He reached into his coat and removed the Le Snuf revolver and brought it to bear on Marcus. This was a situation that both of them were fairly familiar with, he was sure. "We can still make it happen though." He said then pulling the hammer back on it. "But what goods that gonna do me now. Morse observed pulling the pistol back. Maybe if were ever back on Paquin." Morse said. He put the pistol back in the holster after he said, his snide smile being clearly visible the entire time.
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 6, 2012 8:38:02 GMT -5
Marcus looked down, up really, the barrel of the gun as Morse leveled it at him. His eyes met Morse's and he grinned. He felt a rush of adrenaline when Morse pulled back the hammer. Honestly, there was enough of him that was panicked at what he saw.
But he still smiled.
"If we were ever back on Paquin, we'd be sorting out Montros and his fee-welching rats." He didn't really want to land on Paquin again if he could help it. But that would be there and then. "But honestly I don't give two bits about that ugly son of a goat."
He pulled his coat closed and exhaled a long breath. "But, Hell." He spun on his heels, into the ship. "We've got a job to do. 'nough dawdling!"
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 6, 2012 8:38:19 GMT -5
Turning around Morse began to move down off the back of the vehicle. He moved fairly quickly down the steps on the back as he’d done it before many times. He got to one, and then hopped down to the base. After that he hopped down to the floor. Most people had their own way of doing things, and Morse liked to put in the absolute minimum effort whenever he could. He was prone to doing things with his feet a lot, though in his toes he didn’t exactly have the dexterity of a chimp. But he’d kick drawers closed, and close things with his feet. He knew how to do it without breaking things, and he wasn’t going to stop any time soon. Even those this wasn’t exactly his ship, that was still the way he did a lot of things. Morse checked inside his coat to ensure he put the pistol back in right. He knew he had, and it had felt right, but he had got it in his mind that something might be wrong with it’s placement. Upon the inspection he found that everything was in order, it was just a minor paranoia.
The continuation of Paquin caught Morse thinking about the world. He wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of Paquin. Aside from the fact that it was always really far and took a while to get to, the people there weren’t the best sort. There were only a small few places, like ‘Big Willys’ that he found to be sort of a haven on that mud ball. It was a planet of thieves and trashy people. Morse didn’t like a lot of those that couldn’t even pretend to make it in a more civilized society. He only brought the ship he was on in very close to where he was going, and left it there, preferably somewhere where he could see Federals. Most people didn’t trust them, or just hated the Alliance in general. Morse didn’t care so much in situations where they’d put automatic weapons on someone trying to steal his things. And of course he always had people still on board that would be able to ‘fix’ a problem should one arise. Such things had come up a few times, and ironically one of those was with Marcus himself. Even though Morse had taken care of that problem personally, and was fairly close to taking his head off at the time in a very literal sense, he wasn’t entirely bothered by the idea of being there now. The switch here was more that Marcus had to fear Morse taking things from him, then Morse did Marcus taking things from him. But there wasn’t anything that Morse wanted here that he couldn’t just get himself far easier, and have the added benefit of it being written down as his.
He watched as Marcus spun around and started walking over towards the central elevator on the ship. It was a very odd kind of ship for Morse, just because it’s sheer size would lend itself to three levels, and have a spine of an elevator all the way through. Morse was used to ladders and stairs, and he didn’t like using elevators in the first place. But he’d deal with whatever came, the way he always did. What stood out to him was the sudden yelling and declaration to ‘stop doddling’. That made Morse drop his jaw out a bit, and he placed his small Xambii Cigar into his mouth. ”That’s gonna get old fast.” Morse said to himself aloud. It wasn’t so much the idea of taking orders, because he’d been dealing with those before. Even though Morse made it extremely difficult on certain of his superiors, that wasn’t the problem here. It was the yelling of the order, even if it was a mock order, that was something Morse wasn’t going to take the best over an extended period of time. But he’d leave it to see how it went. He sucked in the cherry flavored vapor and he walked towards the front of the vehicle to unload the boxes he just brought in.
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