Conjecture and Commencement

[Morse]

Longstreet’s Compound, Bellforge
Octoberr 24, 2517 - Beaumonde
5:09 PM Local Time

The large red ship came down slowly onto the landing platform in front of the Main Building of Longstreet’s building, which used to be his office. The sun was setting far in the distance, just behind the large buildings which overtook much of the Bellforge skyline. In the industrial sector, things sounded how they always did. The sound of transport ships and vehicles going to different areas, while noise of cargo containers being moved and dropped could faintly be heard far off on some of the other compounds.

Things on Longstreet’s Compound however looked and sounded fairly normal. Nothing but the usual workers moving cargo from one warehouse to another, and finishing off the days duties, was to be viewed.

With announcement of Longstreet’s death fifteen days earlier, things were not likely to be exactly the same. After the call from Morse on the day it happened, another call came several days later from Carl, Longstreet’s former right hand man. The call was to have Marcus land at the compound and have he and his crew brought up to speed.

The trip had been made completely on hardburn and with the addition of navigational help from Lulah, the Chainless had crossed the entire length of the galaxy in fifteen days. The ship came and touched down on the platform and gave a light bounce the moment it touched down, which was normal.

[Carl Davidson]

Sitting in his new office, which had formerly belonged to Longstreet, Carl got the news that an inbound freighter ID’d as The Chainless was on its way towards the outpost. Carl knew the tower had instructions to let them through, and he was glad that another of the uncertain issues was about to be dealt with.

He’d been having a great deal of trouble for the last fifteen days, and this was yet another one of those days. Carl was a man that generally knew what to do and acted quickly. But when it came to grand schemes and long term plans he faltered. He was a Lieutenant, that was his nickname. But he acted more as a Sergeant then anything else. Leading troops into battle, and making the quick decisions that were necessary to keep everything moving in the right direction.

As always he grabbed his shotgun, and stood up. He left through the door, and walked down the stairs. Exiting through the front door of the main building, he was able to see the Chainless come in over the station and gently lower itself down towards the metal ground beneath it.

Carl had no one standing with him, and didn’t want any. He was not very favorable towards having armed guards and other things like that. In spite of finding himself in the place that he was, he was still very much a ‘do-it-yourself’ sort of person. He remained standing between the main building and the newly landed ship, waiting for the vessel to open.

[Marcus O'Terra]

Marcus had landed the ship himself, not wanting to leave anything to chance. Nothing went wrong. Everything worked as it should. Like a good horse, The Chainless didn't buck without due cause.

At least that was going his way. Carl was going to be another matter.

He had come to the conclusion that the first minute on the ground was going to be the hardest. Carl didn't like Marcus. Hate would be too strong a word, probably. It stood to guess that Carl held no respect of Marcus.

They hadn't been on good terms, last they 'spoke.

So when the ship landed, Marcus had his vest under a black shirt, and a black jacket. Carl would never see him as a confederate. The war, the lost one, was over. This one was just beginning.

He moved through the ship, nodding to anyone who passed, and stopped in the bay, exhaling as he hit the key. What was he going to say? What could he say?

Carl, I'm sorry. Was he sorry? Looking back at the night, he could have kept in his pants; but even the thrashing he'd gotten just felt like a dull print in the back of his head.

So who did it? Like Marcus had any right to ask that. Who was to say why he was being called back. Brought up to speed might well be a lie. Well by rights the ship belonged to Marcus, but it was Longstreet who secured those rights.

The door was down, and Marcus was staring out into the compound, looking around. Carl was alone, and armed. Marcus had forgone a gun. He looked at Carl, but young 'captain' couldn't look the man in the eye.

MOVE DAMNIT Marcus took a step forward and found himself closing the distance between him and Carl. He shot glances around, looking for snipers, how far it was from cover.

The only cover to find on the landing pad was his ship, and he was moving away from it.

Marcus suddenly remembered a moment on the Hardtack He'd done something to make Burts mad: terribly mad. So mad that the man didn't come barreling after the boy.

Burts had made Marcus walk toward the furious man.

The rest was a blur. But that walk was only half this distance, yet if felt just the same.

Marcus found some kind of center, because he looked into Carl's eyes, and found the courage to speak. Just a word. "Sir." There was that voice: that echoed in the halls of the Hardtack.

The voice of a slave.

[Ilana Logan]

Ilana stood in front of her CAD board that she'd mounted to the wall in the engine room. There were engine specs up there for the Chainless. She was still trying to work out a way to speed up the huge ship. So far, it wasn't working, and she didn't have much confidence that it would, but it gave her something to do in her spare time.

She felt the ship decending toward Beaumonde and her stomach knotted to the point of near pain. Longstreet was dead. She thought that old bastard would never die. She hadn't known him well, but what she did know she liked. He'd treated her with respect when she'd been in his company, though that hadn't been often, so she had respected him in kind.

The ship touched down on the compound and she cycled the engine down to cool. She left the main power on as she always did, but there was no reason for the engine to stay running on the ground. When that was done, she went to the bathroom and washed her hands.

She'd managed to stay relatively clean today, though it had taken effort. She'd done it because of the meeting they had with Carl, Longstreet's right hand man. With Longstreet dead, they were unsure of pretty much everything.

She left the bathroom, pulled her duster on and left the ship, her revolver on her hip. It was the only weapon she had with her today. She didn't think she'd need even that, but she hadn't thought she'd need a weapon when they'd landed here once before and she'd ended up with a shiny new bullet scar.

She made her way through the ship to the cargo bay. She walked down the ramp and saw Marcus stepping off the ramp at the bottom. She had no reason to be nervous, but she didn't know where they stood with Longstreet dead. They could all very well be out of a job and a home now that Carl was taking over.

She stepped off the ramp at the bottom and walked to where Carl and Marcus stood. She nodded respectfully to Carl. In a venerable and honest tone, she said, "Mr. Davidson. I was very sorry to hear about Longstreet. I didn't know him well, but I did like him."

She had nothing else to add at that moment, and going on and on about it would make it seem like a lie, so she stood with her hands at her sides, back straight, waiting to find out what their fate would be.

[Carl Davidson]

The ramp finally came down on the ship and Carl remained planted where he was. He didn’t want to get right up over to the ship because he didn’t have any reason to be on it, and he wasn’t exactly a welcoming comity. It was just him there, and he was reacting to the situation the same way he’d always done.

The first person he saw was Marcus, something that he wasn’t particularly pleased about. In his last thing that he’d done with Longstreet he’d managed to put a major risk factor for the entire enterprise. Longstreet’s death however made that event rather insignificant, and any damage that may have been done likely would have been erased by that fact. Still Carl would remember, and the fact of it didn’t make him happy.

Clouds were rolling in over the sky and Carl had been watching it. The extreme amount of responsibilities that he had now were a lot to handle, but he was working on dealing with it. But even the weather was something he had to be paying a lot of attention to as it could say what cargo they were able to move, and whether or not some ships would even be able to land.

When Ilana came next, Carl felt more at ease. The ships mechanic was one of them more or less. She hadn’t been there long, but she knew Carl longer then she’d known Marcus. She hadn’t known him well, but it was enough that Carl liked the idea of her being in front of him more then the ships idiot commander.

When the sounds of sympathy came through Carl nodded, but he didn’t think much on it. He didn’t like to think on it. He was a hard man that wasn’t prone to showing emotion that wasn’t anger, and that would be one of those times. He nodded his head a few times and looked away. ”Yeah… yeah.” He was evidently still in an upset sort of way about the whole thing, but he wasn’t letting it take over for him.

”Well we got a lots’ talk, so come on in.” Carl said twisting and moving back towards the building from which he’d come from. As he walked he adjusted his suspenders near his waste. It made the pistol on his holster shake, but he ignored it and stepped into the building assuming that he was being followed.

The door had slid open automatically and the familiar visual of the gun scanner and hallway, with stairs leading up to Longstreet’s office straight ahead. Unlike before however, Carl didn’t activate the Gun Scanner. He just walked through it and moved to the left, into the parlor.

The parlor was where he spent a lot of time. It was sort of like his own office prior to the events of two weeks earlier. It had a three tables, chairs, a bar off to the side right side, a cortex screen in the top left corner, and windows that had the metal shutters drawn.

Carl moved to one of the tables and pulled a chair out, setting his shotgun down on the circular wooden surface. It gave a clunk as he did, and the chair creaked as he sat down. He didn’t exactly know what he wanted to say, and in a strange moment where he got caught in his thoughts he put his left hand to his temple and rubbed it saying. ”Rough two weeks.”

[Ilana Logan]

Carl nodded his head a couple times and looked away when she expressed her sympathy for his loss. "Yeah, yeah," he grumbled softly.

It was clear to her that he was still quite upset by this whole thing, but he trying to keep it under control, so she didn't acknowledge it. She figured it would be best that way.

After a moment, he said, ”Well we got a lots’ talk, so come on in.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and started back toward the building, adjusting his suspenders as he walked. Ilana looked to Marcus for guidance, as she'd done many times before. He looked jumpy, maybe a little scared. She gave him a short nod, and followed after Carl. She wasn't but a few steps behind him, so she saw when the door slid open in front of him, and she walked through before it closed. He walked past the gun scanner without activating it.

He walked straight through it and to the left into a room she'd been in only once or twice before. She thought they'd called it the parlor.

Inside, the room was furnished comfortably but not extravagantly, which seemed to be Longstreet's general style. The only thing she noted was that the metal shutters on the windows were drawn. It wasn't unusual to see that here, but it made her slightly uneasy that day.

Carl went to one of the three tables in the room and pulled a chair out. He clunked his heavy shotgun on the table and sat down in the chair, which groaned as though protesting the idea of being sat on. He put his left hand to his temple and rubbed it. "Rough two weeks," he said.

"I can only imagine," Ilana said. "Listen Carl. I know you've got a lot on your plate right now, but there's something I've gotta tell you."

Ilana paused again briefly, and then went on, "On the way here from our last job, Marcus and I had a talk. He's decided that one way or another he doesn't believe he can do this job any longer. He's signed ownership of The Chainless over to me and he's given me command of the ship and the employees. Marcus has been good to me in the time I've spent with him, and while I do agree with his decision, I have chosen to keep him as my second in command, though the final decision on anything pertaining to jobs and the ship itself belongs to me. I'm sorry for bringing this up now, but considering everything, I felt you had a right to know upfront."

[Carl Davidson]

Carl caught himself in his brief moment of silent contemplation and lifted his head back up. Having your mind far from the current situation was never a good idea. He brought himself back to reality just in time for Ilana to give him the news of the ship’s change in hierarchy.

It was explained to him thoroughly, and with detail regarding how it would be set up and continue to function. But Carl had never been a crewmen or in command of a transport vessel, so his knowledge about what all of it meant wasn’t worth much to him. He was a ground commander, who put himself in the absolute thickest part of the action. The details of day to day running of things didn’t typically go him. He was more an enforcer, who now found himself far above that position, and that was the biggest problem.

”I don’t care about that.” Carl replied matter-of-factly. ”S’longs the ship’s still goin’ I don’t I aint botherin’ with who’s makin’ the calls for it.” Carl shrugged. It really didn’t matter to him as long as the asset was still available. ”If anything I’m feelin’ better ‘bout the idea someone from here’s sittin’ at the wheel a that ship.” Carl dismissed, since that news was something that was actually comforting.

He didn’t like Marcus, and most people wouldn’t be able to mistake the fact that he did. Ilana however had been working for Longstreet prior to them even having heard the name “Marcus O’Terra”. So on the whole it was better for him that someone he knew and liked was actually running the ship, since it would probably make calling on it easier for him.

”Now…” Carl stopped, since he was going to have to get to business, and he wasn’t good about discussing the particular topic. ”Longstreet’s dead, aint two ways about it.” He managed to get out. ”Aint but the local news said much about it since he wasn’t exactly much fer the spotlight, which’s for the best.” Carl was agreeing with things Longstreet did, even after his death. In his mind, nothing the man could have ever done was wrong.

”He’s murdered.” Carl announced rubbing his beard and mouth, looking away towards the floor. ”And were still tryin’ to figure out names, but we’ve figured pretty damn good its them crazed nuts in Black Sand.” Carl revealed.

They’d spent much of the last few weeks figuring out exactly what had done it, and with their Interpol connections they’d determined that the only craft that had entered the region had been spotted in several other raids which were orchestrated by the Independent terrorist organization Black Sand.

[Ilana Logan]

Ilana raised a brow when Carl said he didn't care who was running the ship as long as it was still running. When he added that he was feeling better about the idea of her running the ship because she was from here, she understood his comment a little better. He didn't consider it important because he isn't on the ship, but the change still pleases him because he doesn't like Marcus.

”Now…” Carl said. ”Longstreet’s dead, ain't two ways about it. Aint but the local news said much about it since he wasn’t exactly much fer the spotlight, which’s for the best.”

Ilana sat quietly across from Carl while he talked, listening carefully to his words. He didn't often talk at length, so when he did, it was important, and she knew it. She'd never heard him utter more than a couple sentences at a go, so she listened hard, making sure she understood everything he was saying.

"He’s murdered,” Carl announced rubbing his beard and mouth, looking towards the floor. ”And we're still tryin’ to figure out names, but we’ve figured pretty damn good its them crazed nuts in Black Sand.”

Ilana's eyes widened and for a moment she was speechless. She had many questions. Why would they want Longstreet dead? What could that possibly do for their cause? Wouldn't murdering a former browncoat commander make them seem like the opposite of what they were trying to appear to be?

When she gathered her thoughts, she said none of those things. She wanted terribly to ask those questions, but she didn't. She knew anything important and relevant would be revealed in time, so instead she chose another question. Much more important, and the only thing she truly needed to know. She spoke succinctly when she asked, "What do you need us to do?"

[Carl Davidson]

Carl didn’t have answer for anyone who would wonder ‘why’ it had happened. He’d never been in some terrorist organization, and after the surrender was signed he gathered that it was over. He had been a part of the Alliance military before, so he knew well that when the war was over, that it was over for a reason. The Rim wouldn’t be able to keep up the fight, the materials and manpower just wasn’t there. But some people didn’t let it go, and so Carl didn’t know of anyway he could relate.

That was all past to him where he was. Of course he would keep trying to figure out who did it and why so he could exact a revenge in the most painful fashion he possibly could as that was his way. But he knew that he needed to keep things working. Longstreet was a very influential person, and a lot of people relied on his business, both legal and not. Carl had never been one with lot of responsibility, but he didn’t have a choice for that anymore.

”When he died, and I aint got a shit’s idea why, he left control a the business n’ everythin’ here and abroad to me” Carl came out with the fact that he was the declared successor. He had no idea that he would have been chosen, and he generally concluded everything would be sold off or shut down. Instead it was left to him.

Carl gave out a groan. ”Problem’s that with Longstreet outa the way, competitors move in, and loose ends in the organization start movin’ out.” This was something that had been very hard for Carl to handle. ”I mean just last week, buncha the little worm gangers stopped makin’ drops a money or even the words a intel there sposed to” Carl’s tone became agitated at the people who weren’t in the room. ”Had to go crack a bunch of heads open so they’d get the message. But I can’t do that with everyone.”

That was something Carl had done personally, which he realized he may have to stop doing. At that point he was a dog who’s owner had died and he chewed through his leash. That was bad and it was no way to run a business.

”I gotta keep this place held together, and I need to know what’s still here and what aint.” Carl explained. ”Now you aint owned by this place. I know that.” He knew what the score was, but he was really just trying to stop the bleeding. ”But you good with helpin’ me keep this place afloat?” Carl knew what he wanted them to do, but he could have a secure asset such as this interplanetary road crew, it would be a great help to him.

[Jay Fuller]

Jay, like most of the crew, was more than ready to get off the ship and onto land. During the long rides, the first day was the hardest. The middle wasn't too bad, and then the cabin fever sets in on the last day. He was nursing a small glass of whiskey. It wasn't a lot, but he wanted a drink. The news came in that Longstreet had passed away and Jay wasn't sure how to feel. He only knew Longstreet on a professional level, but he did know him. After all, he spent a couple months checking the man's blood weekly. He was a little sad, he supposed, but not enough to ruin his day.

A few minutes ago he had gotten out of the shower. The meeting with Carl, Longstreet's right hand, had put most of the crew on edge. Or, at least it seemed like it. If things went badly, Jay didn't know what might happen. Once the ship had landed, and Jay had put in more than enough effort to keep his drink from spilling, he got up to leave. After drinking the last bit of the burning alcohol, he set the glass in the sink and made his way into the cargo bay. Jay saw that Ilana and Marcus had already left the ship, so he left and jogged to catch up to them.

Jay hadn't gotten used to the idea that Ilana was the new captain. Since Marcus relinquished the position, it was hard to see the roles reversed. He didn't like the idea of calling Ilana "Captain." When he arrived, Carl was talking to the two of them. He was waiting, almost hovering over the rest of the compound despite he was shorter than the buildings around him. Jay was, more or less, a little intimidated. But that hadn't stopped him before. At least, most of the time.

"Well we got a lots' talk, so come on in," Carl turned and walked into the building behind. Jay was a little surprised to see they didn't go into Longstreet's office. Instead, they went into the parlor. Jay took a seat next to Marcus. Ilana explained to Carl that Marcus was no longer the captain. He didn't seem to care, but he did mention that he preferred Ilana over Marcus as their leader. Jay glanced to Marcus. He wondered if Carl disliked him -- the medic figured that after the whole incident at the party, he wouldn't be surprised.

"Now, Longstreet's dead, ain't two ways about it." -- Obviously, since he's dead. Jay thought to himself -- "Ain't but the local news said much about it since he wasn't exactly much fer the spotlight, which's for the best...He's murdered." Carl looked away from the group to the ground, and Jay realized he was bothered way more than he was trying to show. He suggested the murderers were in the Black Sand.

Jay raised an eyebrow at that. He hadn't heard much about the Black Sand other than a few whispers. But he noticed Ilana's reaction, and realized it was either an unexpected turn of events or that this crew was a really bad group. "What do you need us to do?" she asked.

Jay kept himself silent and leaned onto the table with his elbows. He glanced around the room, waiting for Carl to respond.

[Ray Hudson]

The news had been hard on Ray. He was quiet for the first five days of the trip, only responding to people with one word and eating in the privacy of his room. Longstreet had been one of the last stable things in Ray's life and to hear of his murder kept his mind exhausted with thought. The walls of the ship were a familiar grey that began to push the clouds from the corners of his vision. He felt a small sense of comfort being surrounded by this grey. Ray reminded himself that he was on this ship for a reason and with Longstreet dead his purpose has began to blur.

Longstreet's death wasn't the only big news that trip. Marcus had decided to relinquish ownership of The Chainless and Ilana took over in his stead. Ray thought that it was for the best. He never respected Marcus and his orders were more like a child's suggestions as far as Ray was concerned. He was still unsure if Ilana would be much of an improvement and he wasn't in a position to be optimistic. He certainly carried more fondness for her than Marcus but that didn't mean that he would find her a very capable leader. Ray wasn't sure how Ilana liked this new change but if he had to guess he would say that she spent a lot of time smiling to herself the day it happened.

He would never call her Captain regardless of her abilities.

Ray spent a lot of the trip trying to raise his spirits. He shared abnormal stories wit Jay and made inappropriate jokes with Ilana when he could throw the door to his room open. He even practiced a fake smile in the mirror for a few minutes without sighing afterwards. He was chasing a sense of familiarity and routine. Laughter and 50 million miles of space between him and the next problem he'd have to face.

After landing at the compound He stood on the railing of the cargo bay, waiting for the other's to walk out first. Once he saw Jay jog after Marcus and Ilana, Ray went down to join them. Once his boots landed on land Ray took a deep breath. The clouds were a familiar grey.

Ray followed the same path he'd followed for years. He entered the same door and saw the same set up he'd come to know. It was all in place. He didn't even need to have his eyes opened, every piece of furniture was organized in his head. He walked into the parlor that Ray had spent several years twiddling his thumbs in and he saw the group already talking. While Ray took a seat near Ilana he heard Carl mention that the local news covered Longstreet's murder.

There are several, obvious, things that can put the fear in you. A loud sound in the middle of the night. Someone jumping out at you from around a corner, or a rambling homeless man shuffling your way. Carl put the fear in Ray with just two words. Carl believed that Black Sand was involved with Longstreets murder. Ray felt his body lock and he became as still as a mountain. "Oh God. Oh no." He muttered.

Ilana asked what Carl needed from the group and he shared that he had been left in charge of Longstreet's operations. He told them that with Longstreet gone, the organization was obviously suffering because of it. Carl then asked if they were willing to help him keep the organization from dying.

Ray looked at the group and then stared at the wall. He was having a wave of thoughts crashing into his mind and he was having trouble judging what would be best. It was times like these that it was good to have a leader.

[Ilana Logan]

Ray had come in not long after she had, though she could only remember hearing him walk in, but Ilana noticed him sitting at the table with her only when his soft words came to her ear, ""Oh God. Oh no." She figured he had obviously been there long enough to hear Carl's explanation, but she didn't know what to say to him either, so she just gave him a sympathetic look and turned back to Carl. As she did, she realized Jay was in there now too, and she hadn't seen him come in at all.

The big man said, ”When he died, and I aint got a shit’s idea why, he left control a the business n’ everythin’ here and abroad to me.”

Carl groaned and said, ”Problem’s that with Longstreet outa the way, competitors move in, and loose ends in the organization start movin’ out. I mean just last week, buncha the little worm gangers stopped makin’ drops a money or even the words a intel there sposed to.”

As Carl spoke, he got more and more agitated. He said, ”Had to go crack a bunch of heads open so they’d get the message. But I can’t do that with everyone. I gotta keep this place held together, and I need to know what’s still here and what aint. Now you aint owned by this place. I know that. But you good with helpin’ me keep this place afloat?”

Ilana chewed on that briefly, knowing already what she would say. The question wasn't what she had expected him to ask, but she understood the reason for it. He had to know who was willing to help him bust some knees out when people stop paying their dues. Other things too of course, but for the time being, she imagined that would be something that needed to be done often.

With Longstreet out of the picture, a lot of people were gonna start thinking that they didn't owe anything anymore. That their debts had been erased with the death of the man holding their dance card. She imagined that he was asking for a show of loyalty, and for services when needed, which would probably be often for a while.

She met Carl's eyes and said, "Of course we'll help. We'll do everything we're able to. Tell us what you need taken care of and we'll take care of it. Simple as that. Longstreet was a good man, but as far as our business arrangement goes... The way I see it, the only thing that's changed is who's payin us. We still work for you. I have no intention of changing that because our boss has died. If anything, the fact that he was murdered only strengthens my resolve to stay here."

She'd said everything she needed to say with that. She'd been completely honest, and she let it show. She'd been working on her people skills since Marcus had told her his intentions, though she didn't think she'd have needed them in this situation anyway. Certain things don't require vast amounts of charisma. Things like this were best dealt with sincerity. Besides, if she remembered correctly, Carl had a built in bullshit detector that worked better than most. Lying to him wasn't smart.

She had nothing more to add unless he had questions, or something specific to ask for at that moment, so she waited to see what he would say to that.

[Carl Davidson]

When Jay and Ray had come into the room, Carl hardly took notice. Jay was just a physician that Longstreet had hired, and didn’t realistically have much experience with what they were concerned with. Ray on the other hand had been there for a long time, but he worked more like the people that worked under Carl. Not terribly involved with what was going on, were just pointed in a direction, and did what they were told.

Ilana’s reassurance of loyalty was some of the best news he’d gotten all day. He had assumed that group would still be working with them, but he couldn’t be sure. It seemed with Longstreet dead people just didn’t think their organization was to be taken seriously anymore. But Carl had an idea on how to deal with those sorts of people. It was stressful for him to think that he was one of so few that held an undying loyalty to what Longstreet was doing, but that was the way the universe worked.

”Good enough.” Carl nodded with Ilana’s show of faith. He didn’t know if it was them just working with an opportunity, fear of what he would be willing to do, or actual loyalty. In any case it was something he could work with.

”Right at what I needs to make sure is the lanes’r still open.” Carl declared flatly. ”Shit on the planet I can deal with, but it’s the goin’s on outside that I need help to keep workin.’ It was true that Carl still had plenty of men, and was likely one of the most feared man in Bellforge as it was. So his reach on the Beaumonde was as simple as clearing everything out. But the idea was to make sure that their longer reaching criminal activities could at least keep running.

”So I could actually put you to work right off.” Carl suggested. ”You ever been to a space station out on the edge a the Georgia system called Le Socle?” Carl asked, wondering if anyone would be familiar with the place in question.

[Jace "Original Zest"]

Shutting his quarter's door slightly too roughly Jace quickly strapped his gun belt on with his holsters on to keep his pistols in plane sight, he had know idea who these people were the crew had to meet but he refused to remain weaponless, he did however keep his knives hidden and strapped them on as well both under his pants legs.

Jace had a lot of respect for Marcus relinquishing command of the Chainless but he didn't much appreciate that damn Feh Feh Pi Goh! taking over the landing. It was as if the man didn't trust his flying which he proved only professionals could make that damn trip across galaxy within the time they did it. Without Lulah navigating and Ilana keeping the engines maintained the ship wouldn't have lasted but Jace still did the flying. Thinking of Ilana he wasn't surprised the ship went to her she proved good worth on Muir. Wasn't the first time Jace was under the command of a female so all of this didn't even bother him.

After he strapped on his weapons he threw on a brown coat he felt a little chilled, he had to remember to have Jay check him for a cold later so he wouldn't suffer during flight, he left his quarters and was careful not to shut it too hard. He did make sure to avoid areas Marcus spent a lot of time in while he made his way to meet Ilana and the rest of the crew to get off the ship.

Watching as the crew began getting off he was still coming down so he was sure no one had noticed him. Jace however noticed a monster of a man talking to Ilana, that man must be Carl. As they began walking off Jace rushed after the crew and slouched a little so he could hide his height a little. His height did make him uncomfortable at times especially when he didn't want to be noticed right off.

As he left the ramp he couldn't help but notice what a A-Grade place this was this Longstreet knew how to live. Following who he assumed was Carl and the rest of the crew he came to what appeared to be a parlor, and not a office which surprised him about a business meeting. Jace walked in behind Ray and Jay and stood at the doorway and just listened to Ilana confirm her crew to this man, and information about the disturbances Longstreet's murder had made things tough for the business. So this man defiantly had to be Carl, and from the sounds of it this man didn't mind violence nor confrontation. Jace could defiantly come to appreciate this man for his lack of fear, he knew very few with a mind like that and had the skill to keep alive. Jace just slouched against the door and just observed everything but he knew he had to eventually give his condolences to Carl for the loss of his boss and friend. He was waiting for Ilana to finish this meeting and for the latest orders to come through. He was also looking forward for his next mission.

Feh Feh Pi Goh - Baboon's ass crack

[Marcus O'Terra]

Marcus had kept his mouth shut as Ilana revealed the shift in command, he was still coming back to the idea. He wasn't bothered by giving up the responsibility, and he wondered if it should. His own life had been a matter of self-sustaining himself at the smallest cost.

Giving the ship to someone who had to focus to lead it in a direction seemed like that. Pay the least to get the most. Was that his life?

He sighed as Ilana and Carl led the pack into the compound. He took up the rear, even after Jace. He kept in the back and didn't say anything.

When the murderers were revealed as Black Sand, Marcus took in the crew before his own reaction registered. Jay was indifferent, but Ray and Ilana looked like they just watched someone kill a cat in front of them. Ray certainly did.

Marcus, himself, felt like a cold hand was closing on his neck. Black Sand fancied themselves as Independents continuing the fight. So what did they want with an ex-officer? How long before they started going after his crew?

He listened to Ilana handle the stress in stride. She made the decision and the crew was still in the service of this company.

For how long it would last, Marcus wouldn't force a guess. He just let the stress roll away, and ignored the cold on his neck. Something occurred to him that he thought he might ask. The funeral But Marcus hesitated, and kept his mouth closed. He'd follow Ilana. She showed her grit in more than one time of peril. Now was her time.

[Ilana Logan]

Carl seemed to think about what she said for a moment. She didn't truly know what he was thinking about, but she imagined it had something to do with the situation they were all faced with. She had been doing little other than thinking of the situation all day, and she was still unsure of many things.

”Good enough,” Carl said to Ilana's little speech. ”Right at what I needs to make sure is the lanes’r still open. Shit on the planet I can deal with, but it’s the goin’s on outside that I need help to keep workin'." He paused briefly, then said, "So I could actually put you to work right off. You ever been to a space station out on the edge a the Georgia system called Le Socle?”

Ilana thought for a moment. She'd been to a couple space stations, but she didn't recall one by the name of Le Socle. It was a fairly distinct name, so she was confident it hadn't slipped her mind. She was curious as to what would be on a space station for them to get. Then again, space stations had a tendency to be very lucrative and very illegal. Having the space station was legal of course, it was the way most people chose to operate their stations that made it illegal.

Finally she said, "No sir. I don't believe I've ever been to that particular space station. What's the job entail?"

Not that the details would make a difference as to whether or not she'd take the job. She take the job even if they were hunting a three legged unicorn. She just wanted to know what they were going into so she could prepare the crew. Well, those that weren't in the room with them.

She'd also need a more specific location, but that could wait until after she got the details about the job. She figured it was either intimidation or bustin heads. Either way, it probably ended with her getting Longstreet's money back to Carl where it belonged. Then again, they'd been sent on some off the wall missions as of late. There's no telling what they'd be doing this time.

[Carl Davidson]

Coming to the conclusion that no one there probably knew where it was, Carl just continued. ”s’ a big ass station floats out on the border of Georgia. It’s one a the largest tradin’ hubs in the system, since its right between there n’ Persephone.” Carl explained. He’d been there a few times, both during the war and after. It was a huge space station, but he figured they could get a grasp of that when they saw it.

”The things owned by some big player ‘Frenchmen’.” The few times Carl had met him weren’t bad, but he was far from a person that fit well with Carl. ”He keeps the Feds presence small, and lets people like us do business inside.” It was obvious what the major draw for a group like theirs would be to a place like that. ”But there aint a doubt he’s heard a Longstreet’s passin’, and that’s made him all twitchy.”

Carl had the preference for rolling people in anywhere with weapons, and himself at the lead, and inflicting pain till people understood. But that would be a place he’d be outnumbered and outgunned, and it was generally stupid. Figuring things out like that was what he had to do since his unexpected promotion.

He still had to explain what they were doing, and so he moved on. ”The guy don’t like doin’ business over the cortex. Handles everythin’ in person. So that’s where you’d come in.” Carl leaned back in the chair and folded his arms. ”I want ya’ll to lug a crate full a money and ‘gift items’ off to him to make sure the gates stay open.” Carl concluded.

There was one other issue that he had to mention. ”Money’s gonna be a bit on the tight side fer right now, so I can only offer about four hundred to do this.” Carl had never found money to be a large motivator for himself, but other people didn’t work that way. ”But this is just’s simple as sendin’ the crate and talkin’ to him.” Carl stated. ”I’ll handle fuel cost ‘fore you leave, n’ you can probably get free things from the Frenchmen once yer there… s’long as you keep the talk fun.” Carl said looking away with a sort of resentment in his tone. ”He’s one the ‘social-er’ types.” That was Carl’s biggest issue with him. Just how in social the man was made things difficult for him to handle, since Carl was just the man with the gun.

[Jay Fuller]

"Oh god. Oh no." Ray muttered. Jay glanced over to him -- he forgot he was there. Jay looked back to Carl. He thought about asking who the Black Sand were, but the conversation had already moved on to what the Chainless crew could do to help keep the place afloat.

"Of course we'll help. We'll do everything we're able to. Tell us what you need taken care of and we'll take care of it. Simple as that. Longstreet was a good man, but as far as our business arrangement goes... The way I see it, the only thing that's changed is who's payin us. We still work for you. I have no intention of changing that because our boss has died. If anything, the fact that he was murdered only strengthens my resolve to stay here." said Ilana.

Jay nodded in agreement with her. Carl seemed more than relieved with Ilana's response, and he gave them an assignment right off. He asked them to go to a space station in the Georgia system. Jay had never heard of it, and he glanced back around to the rest of the crew to see if anyone knew what it was. It didn't seem like anyone did. Ilana asked what the job involved.

Carl went onto explain that the station was near Persphone. Normally, that idea would have intrigued Jay to go visit the planet and see a bit of Core city for once. But in light of recent events, he figured that would be inappropriate. The job itself would more or less be giving this Frenchman guy some initiative to stay with the group.

"So it's a diplomat mission," Jay said, "Can't be that simple, can it?"

In the recent experience, things would go to shit once they got there. Some of the guards would inevitably try and shoot them down, or Frenchmen would shoot himself. Either way, Jay was skeptical that it would be so easy as walk in, say hi, and leave.

[Carl Davidson]

Carl hadn’t expected Jay to say anything. In his experience the young man had a habit of just going where the wind blew. It didn’t seem like that he’d had much hesitation in hopping onto their ship, and leaving them to find a new physician. It hadn’t been difficult to find one, it was just the idea that Carl hadn’t expected him to be the one to ask a question like that.

”Guess you could say that.” Carl answered about it being diplomatic mission. Carl preferred to look at it as keeping the bribes going, the same as anyone else who wanted to work through that space station had to.

The suggestion that it could be more then that seemed odd to Carl. It was a question he generally refrained from asking, as he was generally prepared for any eventuality. He had been doing the kind of work he was doing for his entire adult life in one form or another. When he wasn’t working on the illegal side of things, he was a soldier. And as a soldier that was exactly what he had to do. But he was 42, nearly twice the age of everyone in front of him as far as he could tell. So it he had reason to presume that, but for every one duty he had to do that was rough, there were four that just ended with guns having remained in holsters.

”Aint never had a problem with em’ before.” Carl replied. ”And he’s clear on the other side a the verse’, with aint a bit to profit from takin’ a shot at us.” Carl knew that Chappel’s organization was smaller then Longstreet’s, and was completely focused around that space station he ran. He was a king in his castle, and from what Carl understood that was as far as it went.

[Marcus O'Terra]

Marcus rolled his shoulders as the conversation kept on rolling. The matter of diplomacy came up, and Jay seemed to think things would be more complicated. Marcus started to wonder himself. Carl mentioned profit, and the monetary drive of the 'verse was once again the central player.

If it made more than it cost; it was worth doing. Drove the slave market forward, sped the taxes through the Parliament, and all the other nasty things in the verse.

Like Marcus.

Marcus finally spoke, more to Jay than the rest of the group. "We'll just have to remind this Frenchman there's more profit working with us, than not." Like Carl said, a 'tribute' mission would likely do just that.