In the back of the 'raft, with Yas and Shui, Saskia holds the tiny components in the palm of her hand.

"Most of them look like beads, and the connectors could be twisted or bent into loops that can be used to join them together, or to thread them onto a thin chain or something."

The engineer laughs, "Maybe they'll bring me luck with the ship's systems."

"Curious things," Shui agrees, removing her small doctor's light from the 'black bag' and shining it upon Saskia's prizes.  They glitter, enamelled silicon and who-knows-what-else flashing with bright colours under the beam.  "They would suit your eyes, Ms. Blake."  The doctor glances up, a smile appearing then vanishing, like a ghost.  "My own, inexpert opinion, of course."

Leaning back, Shui studies Saskia's neck, then her wrist, attempting to envision the resulting creation.  "Beautiful and unique," she notes quietly, nodding slowly.  "A rare find in this wide galaxy, directly under everyone's noses, passed over in a scrabble for gaudy, overly-ostentatious and ubiquitous items."

As promised by Devin Schaller, when he had given Tylen the mission, the mountainous scenery grows more spectacular as they travel further.  Towering ice-capped peaks glimpsed through the cloud cover, glittering in the dim light from Garda Vilis' M class primary.

Finally Conrad points out a strobing beacon ahead of them, through the curtains of drizzling rain.  It flashes in alternating red and white, and seems to be somewhat higher than ground level.

Conrad contacts the station, to request landing clearance, and receives it.

Closer inspection shows that the beacon is on top of a twenty metre mast, which stands in a compound with three small buildings, each surmounted by several antennae and sensor domes.  More sensor equipment is affixed to the mast, at various heights.  There is an open area, between the buildings, surfaced with ferrocrete, and easily large enough for the air-raft to land on.

The whole cluster of structures is surrounded by a two metre fence, which carries several notices bearing the age-old lightning bolt symbol which indicates that it is electrified.

As the air-raft moves closer, patterns of coloured lights start blinking on the landing pad below.

The vehicle touches down, and two figures step out of one of the buildings.  One stays near the door, but the other moves closer, stopping at the edge of the pad.  When Profit Margin's crew begins to disembark, he steps forward, smiling, "Welcome to Observatory Station 4.  I'm Jason Delacroix, Duty Administrator here."

Leaving his carbine in the vehicle, Tylen steps forward,

"I'm Tylen Orgesh, this is Conrad Dientz, Dr Shui Tiesi, our engineer Saskia Blake and Yasmine Crow, formerly of the Marines."

He returns the mans smile and offers his hand.

"We have your package. Apologies for the delay, we had an interesting trip."

Delacroix shakes Tylen's hand, smiling, "We're certainly glad to see you, and the delivery.  It means we'll be able to collecting data.  Did you know that Alvuti, that's the local name for the primary, has a fascinating 0.235 percent cyclical fluctuation in the low infrared part of the spectrum, with a period of precisely 3.72 minutes?  Even more interesting, every thousand cycles, or so, the peak infrared output jumps by a whole 1.2%."

"Most stars of this type are very stable in the infrared frequencies.  Alvuti is quite the wild one."

He beckons the other man over, "This is Shadunudii Gumiikurashmade," he pronounces the name carefully, "our chief technician."

"You can call me Dunu, for short." the technician interrupts, grinning, "My mother always does.  If you can let me have the parts, Jason will sign for them, and I'll go and slap them in.  I should have the array running again in... half an hour, tops."

"Some like them wild," Yas crows in with a big grin, fascinated by the fact that this Craw fellow finds measuring so fascinating.  But to each their own, it takes all kinds, and all that jazz.

"So, what do you folks do to relax from the excitement out here then?" she asks just to ask something.

Leaning against the side of the aircar, Shui closes her eyes.  She lets the familiar refrain of an excited researcher wash over her - something she knows well after six months aboard the Abigail III - and lets out a long, slow breath.  There's still tension in her frame; she needs time to release it, time and activity.

They came too close to people dying.

Not an indictment of the shooters - Yasmine and Tylen demonstrated remarkable restraint, and even better aim.  Their plan went as well as could be hoped - two men injured, none killed on either side.  But still.  So close, she thinks to herself.

I need to exercise.  Burn away the tension.

Blinking her eyes open, she smiles as Yasmine throws herself into the conversation beside Tylen's understatment.  Interesting.  Indeed.

"A technician, Ms. Blake," she notes over her shoulder.  "Perhaps he might enjoy assistance."  She knows how much their engineer enjoys poking into machinery....

The technician, Dunu, shakes his head, "Shouldn't really need any help, I'm afraid.  Just need to open a cabinet and slot the replacements in.  They're the same make and model as the originals, so there'll be nothing to do."

Conrad hands the consignment to the tech, and Delacroix, interrupted in his explanation of the peculiar, if minor, vagaries of this system's primary (and unsure how to answer Yas, settles for thumbprinting and signing the documentation.

For a few seconds, there is an awkward silence as Dunu takes the replacement parts into one of the buildings, and then Delacroix is suddenly struck by inspiration, "Would any of you care for a snack, or a hot drink, before you head back?  I have some rather good spectrascopic holos of the IR fluctuations that you might find interesting."

Tylen inwardly shudders at the thought of sitting through a slideshow of technical holograms, but maintains his friendly smile.

"We'd appreciate a drink, but I'm afraid we'll have to give the show and tell a miss. We took rather longer than we expected getting here and we need to head back before our Boss starts to think we've jumped ship."

About to speak up with regards to her preferences, Shui pauses while Tylen makes his point.  Recallibrating, she smiles at the scientist, thanking him for his offer.  "Regrettable, but time is a constraint.  If your findings are for public consumption, though, might I have a copy?  I am not completely unfamiliar with such measurements, and it would be interesting to peruse."

There was, after all, that time aboard the Abigail III...pity how it ended, but at least there were no hard feelings on either side.

"Now there's an approach to 'I got 3D etchings you may want to see' I haven't heard before, you sly fellow you," Yas says with a grin at the man offering to bore her to death - she has no doubt he actually got countless of slides, but why not try to either cheer or scare him up a little.  Either way it is more fun than to blame time alone.

"Maybe next time," she winks and turns to look at the others.  "Yeah, we ought to get back, unfortunately.  As for a copy, good idea if not quite the same, eh?"

The last remark is aimed squarely at Sushi along with a teasing gleam in her eyes.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:35, Wed 04 Mar 2009.

Saskia tries her best to keep a straight face as the various excuses are made.  In the end though, she is forced to turn away and make a great pretense of peering up at the slightly brighter spot on the cloud cover which indicates the position of the sun, as if she really is interested in the red star.

When she thinks she has some control over her face again, she turns back, "Yes, the captain is a real martinet.  If we get back a half hour late, he'll probably dock our pay."

Hmm.  3D etchings.  Shui hasn't heard that particular pick-up line in...quite some time.  Wrong area of the galaxy, most likely.  Not that, honestly, she receives many lines.  Cocking one thin eyebrow at Yasmine's quip, she considers a response; in the end, though, amusement wins out, a corner of her mouth rising to mirror her brow, and Shui nods her head in appreciation.  "Absolutely true."  She continues with the intent of mollifying Delacroix.  "Without expert explanation, it simply will not be the same...but better a copy than not at all."  She had been interested in the offer - for her, there was literally no such thing as useless information - but evidently it would have bored her companions to death.

And I am somewhat responsible for their health....

At least everyone finds the whole affair amusing, Saskia included.  Jago, the martinet...more amusement in that comparison.

Hoping to avoid any ill-feelings on the part of Delacroix - there are few things a scientist detests more than being the butt of a joke they do not understand - Shui raises her dataglove.  "Dr. Delacroix?

Delacroix shakes his head sorrowfully, "I'm sorry that you can't stay, but I'd hate to cause you any problems with your captain." Then he seems to cheer up a little, "If you follow me, I can get you something to eat and drink."

"And I can download some of the holos for you." he assures Shui.

Turning away, he heads towards the smallest of buildings.

The interior of the structure is, it turns out, a single room, about three metres by four, with a table and four chairs at one end, and four bunks at the other.  Only three of the bunks appear to be in use, the fourth has no mattress or other bedding.

There is also a small, but well-equipped kitchen area, where Delacroix starts preparing refreshments.

Saskia looks around the room, which is a little smaller than her own quarters on Profit Margin, but which seems to be intended for sharing by four people.  Scouts!  A whole planet to live on, and they squash themselves into a closet.  They must really learn to like those little boats of theirs.

All she says to Delacroix, though, is, "Cosy."

"Yep, that's the word," Yas chimes in with a big smile and looks around the space.  It takes about three seconds after which she takes the seat nearest to the door.  Never know if a quick getaway will be needed, depending on what is being served.

Poor man.  Must be terribly lonely up here for them.  He likely wishes only to talk, and being a scientist, his work is the first thing that springs to mind.  Shui follows him into the tent with the others, seating herself at the table.  "Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Delacroix."  She inclines her head a touch.  "And your holos.  How long did you say you would be remaining out here?"

She gives Yasmine and Saskia a small grimace of agreement when Delacroix isn't looking.  It could be worse, the stewart supposes - there are berths on spacecraft smaller than this.  At least they can get outside...weather permitting.

Delacroix seems glad of the company as provides hot beverages and biscuits for those who want them, "My current contracted Term ends at the end of the year, but I'll probably sign up again.  There aren't many employers who would fund a project like this.  Most would regard the study of such an... esoteric field as being largely pointless."

The man frowns, then continues, "My main concern is that the Service will reassign me, because of the hostilities.  Transfer me to fleet courier duties, or something of that nature."

Saskia does some quick calculations in her head, "So you have, what?  Another hundred and twenty, hundred and thirty, days here?

"What will you do if the Scouts don't let you reenlist?"  Unlikely, she knows - with a war just heating up, all the services will be looking to retain people - but it pays to cover your options.

"Do you have anywhere else you could try?"

Tylen winces at the innocent question, a raw nerve exposed in wound he had hoped was long healed,

"I doubt Mr Delacroix will be short of options, a man with his skill set will be valuable to the service."

He hoped he kept the bitterness out of his voice.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:29, Mon 23 Mar 2009.

"Hardly pointless," Shui murmurs over the lip of her cup, then takes a small sip.  "Research builds the fundamentals by which we understand the universe."

The tea is...well, mediocre, but then what can one expect from something kept in the middle of nowhere, package opened, for extended periods?  And no-doubt purchased in-town, rather than special-ordered?  "Thank you."  She bites her lip, musing for a moment.  "One hopes you will remain here, where your talents are better put to use, Mr. Delacroix."

Another sip, and a concerned glance at Tylen over the cup.  She knows that the recent foray into the Scouts' bureacracy had scraped open a half-healed wound; it is hardly surprising the former Scout feels a sting at the thought the service no longer finds use for his own, no-doubt extensive, skillset.  The poor luck of injury and healing.  Their loss, the Profit Margin's gain, but Tylen's loss as well - no doubt he feels it keenly.

So many things one might say to sugarcoat it, but she keeps her peace on the matter.

"I'm glad you think so" Delacroix says to Shui, "but I'm suffering no delusions regarding the importance of pure astronomical observations during a war.  Research budgets will be diverted into anything with potential military applications.  Or, worse still, out of research altogether, and into ship construction and maintenance."

He glances at Tylen, and smiles, "Nice of you to say so.  But I suspect this place will be mothballed, or shut down completely, and nobody else in this system seems particularly interested in the, admittedly minor, quirks of its star."

Tylen offers Delacroix a smile,

"You may be right about the station, but mothballed or not, they'll still need a man with your skills and who knows, there may be a day when your research can begin again."

Unlike his own service career, which Tylen knows is over for good.

"Of course you might always find yourself a position on a private vessel."

He looks around at the rest of his crew, his new found comrades, his new family,

"You'd be suprised at how rewarding that can be."

He suprises himself at the depth of his own feelings, he'd not realised how much the 'Profit Matgin' and it's crew had come to mean to him in such a short space of time. He finishes his drink.

"Nice to taste Scout Service Coffee again, thanks. We'd best be pushing off, I've taken up enough of the crew's precious shore leave already with my little errand."

The corners of Shui's mouth edge downward slightly in a barely-perceptible frown, and she sighs.  It's all-too-true that research into non-weapon/mobility-based technology falls by the wayside during wartime.  "Ship construction and maintenence."  She glances at Saskia.  "I doubt Ms. Blake would appreciate being placed in a purely research setting - it must be equally difficult for you to be facing an engineering posting."

She, herself, has assisted with both...there isn't much Shui hasn't assisted with, but volumes could be written about what she hasn't led.  Always a shadow in the back - support staff, and unnoticed.  The way she likes it, given her situation.  But she can appreciate the loss for which Delacroix prepares himself.  A change of life - perhaps for years, perhaps for decades.  He may never return to research.

Sometimes, such life-changes come by personal choice - her own, for example.  In this case, though, Delacroix's desires may be another victim of war.

But as Tylen notes, there is always room for optimism.  It's quite possible the war will swiftly end, allowing Delacroix to struggle back to research - if not here, then elsewhere.  And the curious observations visible from this planet will remain, perhaps for him, perhaps for another.  She catches a hint of Tylen's satisfaction with his current position in the former-Scout's words, and inclines her head slightly.  This too, she understands, and hopes not to have to leave the Profit Margin too soon.

When their outing-leader prepares to leave, Shui sets down her own cup, nearly drained.  She leaves the bitter dregs to the research station's washcloths.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:42, Wed 25 Mar 2009.

"Well, life is change and if you don't change with it you'll be miserable.  Find the good things wherever you are," yas half mumbles while studying the bottom of her cup as if having noticed something of great interest there.  "Minor or major, quirks or normal, as long as you like some part of what you do."

She stands up then realises she is holding onto the cup, so she places it down and then stretches, arms up high and behind her head.  A few crackling noises can be heard before she sighs as she lets the arms fall.

"Yeah, would not want to worry dear Jago.  He got enough to worry about as it is," she concludes with a big grin and prepares to leave, but not before walking over to the egghead that loves his star and offering a hand.  "Stick to your gun, well, sun, and fight for your, but be ready to roll with the waves of life.  Never know if you end up on this shore again, should the tide sweep you away."