It only takes Ash and Tylen a few minutes to gather what they need, and a few minutes more to trudge across the ice to the dome.  Close up they can see that the surface of the structure has been repaired countless times - presumably the weather on Rangent treats building materials with contempt.

There is no sign of any security at the dome entrance, just a large alloy lever which is cold to the touch, even through gloves.  The handle is pulled down, and the heavy door slides upward, rattling disconcertingly, giving access to an airlock.  underfoot the ice gives way to concrete.

Ash and Tylen pass through the lock and into the dome itself...

The space they enter appears to be some sort of market.  Makeshift stalls fill the place, selling everything from hard copy books and magazines, to weapons.

The first word that springs to mind is "shabby".  The lighting is not too good and the ceiling is only about four metres high, indicated that the dome may be divided into multiple levels.  Almost every available surface is covered with low tech 2D advertising posters, which are themselves covered with more posters and grafitti.

The air is thick with the smells of many different sorts of food being cooked.

and there are people.  A lot of them.  The market is crowded...

Ash stamps his feet just inside the entrance to the dome to shake off the cold and ice, while pulling off and stowing his mask on his belt.  Even the short walk from the ship is more than a bit harrowing and he blows on his fingers for a moment to ensure that they still had feeling in them.

The Profit Margin's navigator glances at the mass of people just inside the dome.  He does a bit of a double-take, hardly what he expected.  Though given the outside conditions, likely Ash should not be surprised.  He shifts his feet a little uneasily and then looks in the direction of Tylen to make sure his wingman is still present.

Given the rather grungy, used nature of the facility, Ash rather instinctively pulls his duster lapels a touch tighter around him, making sure that the familiar pommel of his knife is pressed in close and that his wallet is snug in his pocket.

Only once he had made sure that was the case, did the lanky ex-Scout try to take in more of the atmosphere and try to gauge where he might find any of the wares on his shopping list.  He taps Tylen on the shoulder before pointing out a couple of the larger stalls and storefronts that appear to carry some of the items that he might be looking for.

Ash notes to himself with some irony that it did seem highly likely that leather underwear or some artificial facsimile thereof might very well be found for sale nearby...

Tylen follows Ash through the airlock into the dome and follows the navigator’s lead by removing his own mask.  Unbuttoning this cold weather coat he lets it hand freely, exposing the gun belt he wears around his waist.  ”Ach.” he comments as he scans the market area, although a slight smile creeps across his face.  The 2-d posters, the general tackiness, the whole feel of the place -  just like a cold version of home  passes quickly through his mind  I bet they even show the same the movies …

”So what do you want to look at first?” he asks Ash,  ”I should be able to get  the revolver, shotgun, and the trimmings at one of those stalls.” he says indicating the same weaponry stalls that Ash had noticed  ”Or we can start by looking at the food stalls?” he adds , leaving it up to the navigator to choose.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:21, Sun 28 Apr 2013.

Ash shrugs slightly as he notes, "It probably doesn't matter really..."  But after a short, if thoughtful pause, the Profit Margin's navigator adds, "But, I guess that I figured that we'd grab your items first.  They are likely to be less perishable."  At least, that was the hope - given the atmosphere and exterior conditions, it was very likely that most foodstuffs was more likely freeze-dried or flash-frozen.

"I pretty much figured that we'd mostly likely prefer to return to the Margin directly with any groceries." Ash continues with another slight shrug; from his tone, it is not critical either way.  But, in any case, the tall, lanky, ex-scout starts towards the cluster of weapon and armor stalls.

Suddenly, something in the air, seems to catch in Tylen's throat and he coughs weezily for a moment or two "That works for me." he says with a grin.

For a moment or two he scans the market in front of him, and starts towards the nearest of the stalls selling weapons.  On the way he keeps an eye on the stall contents, just in case they pass any appropriate food stalls -  and just is case he sees any selling exotic underwear.

"Good day, Citizens." the stall holder, a thin, middle-aged woman, smiles brightly as she spots Ash and Tylen approaching.  "Welcome to Addie's Weapons.  Is there anything in particular you're looking for today?  Or are you just browsing, in the hope that something catches your eye?"

The weapons on the counter in front of her are all under glass reinforced with wire mesh.  Hanguns and knives, for the most part, plus some tasers and a couple of longer blades, fencing weapons.  On the wall behind her are rifles, carbines and shorguns, resting in brackets attached to a metal grille.  Below them are crates containing cartons of ammunition.

And off to one side stands a large man in a flak vest, holding a shotgun, and trying (unsuccessfully) to be discreet.  He looks considerably less cheery than the woman.

Tylen looks over the stock on display and nods slowly.  "I need a simple military pattern revolver, with a military or security style belt and holster, preferably with a couple of utility pouches and ammunition.  A shoulder stock might be interesting as well." he says laying out his needs as straightforwardly as he can.  "I am also in the market for a military pattern shotgun, with a folding stock, and ammunition." he continues as he checks out the range of weapons displayed on the back wall.

As an afterthought he adds, "They need to take Imperial ammunition, of course."
This message was lightly edited by the player at 14:52, Sun 28 Apr 2013.

Ash nods in greeting to Addie and seems happy enough to let Tylen take the vocal lead; ultimately, the Darrian scout is the shopper and the navigator is only a browser.  First, he takes a look at the offerings for blades - large and small.  His curiosity is rather idle, as he already has a blade and not much call for any others.  That and the Imperial OCS training with blades is only a distant memory now.

He lets his gaze wander over the various cases and displays until it settles on the guard.  The 'good cop, bad cop' vibe going on is not lost upon him.  A quizzical eyebrow shoots up as the Profit Margin's navigator allows his mind to wander for a moment, contemplating the life of a guard for an arms stall on Rangent.  To be honest, Ash isn't impressed, nor is covetous of the position.

But, then he supposes that the same could be said about the job as navigator on a tramp trader in the Spinward Marches.  And yet, the lanky, ex-Imperial Naval officer, ex-Imperial Scout wouldn't trade what he does currently for a living anything else right now - at least nothing that would require him to settle down in one place.

Tylen's mention of ammunition breaks Ash's personal reverie.  He shifts his gaze back to Addie and tacks onto his companions questions, "What the going rate on a couple hundred rounds of 10mm Imperial standard ball?"  Even if he isn't really in the market for it, it never hurts to ask.  One never really knows; the price could be right.

Addie starts to unlock the cover on the counter, then stops and shakes her head as Tylen mentions the ammunition requirement, "I don't think I've got anything in the way of handguns that'll take IS ammo in stock at the moment.  We don't get a lot of demand for offworld weapons."  She looks at Ash, apologetically, "And even less demand for the ammo for them."

She rests one elbow in the opposite hand and taps her index finger against her lip thoughtfully, then, "I'll tell you what I can do though...  If you can come back tomorrow, I can probably retool one of these revolvers to take Imperial rounds.  It's only a slight difference anyway, and I have conversion kits in the workshop to switch the weapon over to Imperial Standard.  It's just a matter of replacing the barrel and the cylinder to handle the slightly smaller round, and the weapon still meets safety standards."

"All the other stuff I can do for you right away - the belt, with pouches and holster, maybe even a shoulder stock, depending which gun you want.  The shotgun... she gestures towards the rack behind her, "Take your pick.  Locally produced shotgun ammo is interchangeable with imported stock.  Identical size, weight and loadout.  Guess even advanced tech couldn't improve on the basic design."

Tylen nods, not really surprised that the revolvers on sale don't take Imperial ammunition "I'm not sure whether I will be able to get ashore tomorrow." he says with a smile, "But I might take a shotgun." he says continuing with that part of the purchase.  He strains slightly as he  looks ate the weapons on the back wall, and then shrugs "It doesn't really matter, too much." he shrugs  "It doesn't have to be fancy, it is for show as much as anything." he adds with a grin  "I've been told I need to look more like a security man when the passengers are about." he continues softly "Although it needs to do the job as well."

Slowly he draws back his coat, showing his current gun belt and the two revolvers it holds.  "How about holster and webbing to fit one of these?"

Ash shrugs slightly to Addie, as she explains that there is little call for IS ammunition.  "I see." he states simply, "It isn't critical."  The Profit Margin's navigator nods, slightly ruefully, as Tylen explains that they may not be available tomorrow.

He lets Tylen finish his transactions as he looks over the inventory one more time.

Then the thin ex-scout rubs his stubbly chin for a thoughtful moment as he approaches the proprietor once more, "I wouldn't mind picking up a memento from Rangent though."  He glances at the cases, his gaze linger longest on the one housing the knives, "Addie, what would you consider to be characteristically 'Rangent' in material or style?"  A long, thin finger points to a couple of possibilities - a thin filleting blade and an etched, bone-handled straight razor, "What about that one?  Or that one?"

The woman ponders Ash's question for a moment, then shakes her head, "Neither of them."  She selects a different blade, "This is probably the most common style of weapon on the planet.  Made locally, and I'd say that probably a good half of all adults own one of these."

The weapon is some twenty centimetres long, overall, with a slightly curved handle of polished wood, and a thin steel blade, also with a slight curve in the opposite direction to the handle, giving the weapon a serpentine shape.  Only the outer side of the blade's curve, and the first four centimetres of the inner side, has an edge.  The tip of the blade comes to a needle-sharp point.

"It's a working knife." she explains, as she pulls out a couple of boxes of holsters, belts and webbing for Tylen to look at, "Made for use in the fish processing plants, which is why so many people around her own them, but you don't want to be on the wrong end of one in a bar brawl on a Restday night."

"The wood's from a tree in the old biodome up at First Landing.  Normally the handles are plastic, but this was probably somebody's retirement present.

As she talks, she squints at Tylens' revolvers, then starts selecting holsters from the boxes and laying them out before the man, before gesturing at him to take his pick.  After which she grabs down a couple of shotguns for him to take a closer look at.

Tylen takes the second revolver from its holster and removes the ammunition from it before he tries slotting it into the various holsters offered to him, as he checks the fit of the weapon.  Next he examines the belts until he finds a combination that looks military, fits the revolver well and a belt that has two or three pouches that can be used for small pieces of equipment.

All the while he smiles softly as he listens to Addie's tales of fishermen and their knives.  "We used to have something similar back on Lopiengata." he offers "Hooked blade but sharp on the inside for opening fish bellies, but a really thich blade that would also allow then to prise  the big limpets from the rock ..." he says tailing off as he examines the shotguns.

Checking that the magazines are actually empty he works the action a few times and then inspects the structure of the weapon.

Addie nods at Tylen, "Some people use blades that sound similar to that here, but they're not as popular.  It's mostly deep ocean under the ice, so not much accessible in the way of rocks to lever anything off.  What did you call them?  Limpets?"

Hefting the rather stout knife in his hand to test the balance, Ash agrees amiably with both Addie and Tylen, "Utility knives are very similar all over.  My father used to carry something like this on Jewell."

The Profit Margin's navigator takes the knife and holds it up closer to the light so that he can inspect the handle and blade more easily.  "Though there on the dockyards, the blades are a touch wider and the handles less curved.  More shaped and molded."  He turns the knife over to see if the blade is stamped with either a material or maker's insignia.  "Is it a chromium-stainless alloy?" he wonders aloud.

As he slips the blade back into its sheath, Ash prompts Addie, "Very nice.  How much are you asking for it?"  And after a moment, he follows up with a practical concern, "Are any local superstitions or practices concerning the care and feeding of such personal blades, especially something like a retirement gift?"

"It's stainless steel, about the best you can get here.  As for superstitions... " the stall holder chuckles, "They're working knives.  Most of them are issued by the companies, and probably half of them are misplaced before the end of the shift.  The only superstition I know about them is that you shouldn't stab yourself with your own knife in a brawl, or everybody will laugh at you."

"Yep.  Limpets.  They make a good stew ...  well they make stew ..." he amends, before he lays the lighter of the two shotguns on his pile.  "And what about for these?" he queries when Ash asks about the price of the knife.  "Oh.  and ammunition ..."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:05, Thu 09 May 2013.

Ash chuckles slightly at the guard's remark.  "Good general advice." he concedes, "I guess I should keep 'self-inflicted wounds' high on my list for what not to do today."  Not that Ash doesn't limp slightly already.  And not that the wound to his right knee was self-inflicted.  At least, no more 'self-inflicted' than any other damage from a potentially poor choice of Imperial Service or assignment might be considered 'self-inflicted'.

"And I'll try to keep bar fight off the to-do list." he adds with a slight self-deprecating smile; his thin frame making the shoulders of his long, oilskin duster move up and down.  "Can you recommend a good bar?" the Margin's navigator asks Addie's assistant, obviously figuring that a little chit-chat won't hurt, before he turns his attention back to Addie with respect to pricing and purchases.

"Imperial credits I suppose?"

Addie pulls out what looks like a slightly larger under-featured hand computer, and starts inputting figures with its very basic keypad.  After each calculation, she scribbles the result down on a scrap of paper before moving on to the next...

"The knife, Cr20, because it's a bit special.  The shotgun, Cr275.  The holster, gunbelt and a strap I can throw in for Cr45.  Which comes to... lessee... C340 for the lot.  That includes applicable local taxes, and adjustment for current exchange rate."

Some further thought and another set of figures, then, "If you want the revolver, it'll cost Cr175, including the conversion to Imperial Standard."

The guard seems startled to be addressed, but gestures with his weapon towards a structure across the market.  Then adds, by way of explanation, "Casey's.  It's where I go."  Only the upper portion of the building is visible above the intervening stalls and the crowd.

Ash gives Addie a bit of sheepish smile, "How could you tell we were Imperial?" and then a chuckle as he can't hold the straight face any longer, "Yes, yes, of course.  You won't hold that against us, right?"  The thin navigator glances at the guard with the shotgun.

He hands Addie a cred stick for the knife, repeating, "20 Imperial."  With the transaction complete, he tucks the knife into the his belt.  "Seem a bit strange to be carting around someone else's retirement gift." Ash muses, then after a thoughtful pause and a shrug he posits, "But then, I guess, some people prefer the cash over the memories."

"Much obliged." he acknowledges the guard's advice on a decent bar; the bloke seems to be a decent enough fellow.  After a moment, he glances down at this wrist computer and then asks both Addie and the guard, "Hmmm... perhaps you can also recommend a good grocer, also?  And liquor store ...  We need to restock some things on-board..."  He figures that it never hurts to ask.  These two likely know Davis City much better than he or Tylen ever will.

Then the Profit Margin's navigator turns to Tylen and asks his crewmate, "Got everything you need here?"

"Will you throw in a couple of boxes of shotgun shells?" Tylen asks with a grin as he sorts out the money for his purchases.

"However, I am really not sure that I can get back tomorrow -  so I will have to leave the revolver." he pauses for a moment as he returns the one he was holding to its current holster. "I have a couple already," He says still   smiling "so I can live for a bit longer without a spare ..."

"Fair enough." Addie replies, "Maybe you'll get a chance to come back another day.  He's paid for his knife, so that drops your cost down to Cr 320.  And I'll throw in two cartons of shotgun cartridges."  She puts two cartons of 25 cartridges on the counter, along with the other stuff.  "Do you need a bag for all the bits and pieces?"

It turns out that they should be able to buy liquor from the bar to take out, and that there are three, or possibly two (one may have closed down recently) decent grocery stores within a short distance, no more than five or ten minutes' walk.

The directions to the stores are... complicated.  It seems that the interior of the dome has been built, rebuilt, gutted, and rebuilt again over the years since its construction.  What was once an orderly system of concentric streets and radial avenues is now a tangled maze of alleys and passageways.

Ash nods to the fact that Casey's sells liquor for off-premise use.  "Convenient." he notes off-hand.

Thumbs hooked on his duster's belt, Ash listens intently to directions given for the grocers.  The reticule on his eyepiece remains dim as he doesn't bother to try and access any of the stored schematics for the city from archives or to check if there is a datanet available.

He seems to process the rather convoluted annotations just fine.  The navigator seems to have learned how to navigate by either (or both) landmark and ordinal distances, as it is his specialty.  Ash repeat some of the move complex portions back to ensure that he understands them before committing them to memory.  His hands move in time with the instructions as if tracing a route on a map laid out before him.

Then he thanks both Addie and her assistant for their hospitality and advice.  With a glance at Tylen, Ash makes ready to go; at least, ready for whenever his companion is.

Tylen pays  for his purchases and then reloads  his revolver and replaces it in its holster.  Next he adds the strap to the shotgun and loads it with shells from one of the boxes that Addie has supplied.  Carefully he removes his coat, and hands it to Ash to hold for a moment, slips the shotgun over his shoulder, and then replaces the coat.  Once he is sure that everything is hanging properly, and as accessible as it should be, he smiles across to the stall holder and her security man, while he loads the rest of the purchases into the proffered bag.

”You never know what the morrow may bring.”  he responds to Addie’s suggestion that he might be able to get back another time  ”Although in this case I am fairly sure it will involve an auction and the sale of some goods.” he says wryly.

”So booze first?” he suggests to Ash.  ”Then we can get that aboard before we head off for the groceries.” he suggests, then grins broadly ”And I want to get some kinky underwear for the girls.  Some nice leather stuff if we can get it.  We might as well take the chance to wind them up while we can.  They don’t set themselves up very often.” he adds as they prepare to leave.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:55, Sun 19 May 2013.

Casey's as it turns out, is better than some port bars the two Profit Margin crewmen have been in.  But not by a lot.  It also lacks the cosmopolitan atmosphere of most port bars, probably because there isn't really enough of a port to have a bar, and Casey's is more of a local bar that happens to be close to the dome entrance.

The exterior, close up, is a little shabby.  Inside, the bar is reasonably clean and well lit... and falls oddly silent about a second after the two strangers step through the door.  All eyes seem to be fixed on the two men... eyeing them up and down as if scanning every detail of their appearance.

The barkeep - presumably he's the barkeep, since he's standing behind the bar - greets his new customers with a "What'll it be?"  Although the words are harmless enough, they seem to be edged with a little of the same unfriendliness that pervades the rest of the room.

Ash pulls his duster lapels up and closer to his body and then moves up to the bar, patently trying with limited success to ignore all of the attention that he and Tylen are attracting.  He taps the bar lightly with his finger.  "Casey?" he ventures as the owner, "This establishment was recommended to us."  Ash figures that there is little use in trying to deny that he and Tylen are newcomers to the area.

"Whisk..." he starts to order and then stops himself with a slight twitch, changing his drink to, "Seltzer water."  He knows it is not very manly, nor likely to endear him to the barkeep or the patrons.  But Ash can't bring himself to order any alcohol for himself at this moment; he shouldn't break an oath he made a long time ago.

He glances at Tylen and prompts his fellow crewman, "Care for anything to drink?"

Standing at the bar, the Margin's navigator glances around the bar, his expression even, if a bit impassive.  Ash has his poker face up, as he surveys to see if there is going to be any trouble with the natives.  He really hopes not; he doesn't want any trouble.  But he also knows that the Universe doesn't necessarily cater to his whims.  Far from it, in his personal experience.

And while the shopping list is pulled up on his wrist computer, he doesn't make a move to place Shui's order quite yet.  Ash isn't convinced that the time is quite right yet.

Tylen raises his eyebrows slightly as Ash changes his mind in mid order.  ”I’ll have a beer.” Tylen responds to Ash, leaning on the bar and waiting for the general chatter to start back up again.  ”The guard over at Addie’s  said you might be able to sell us some carry outs?” he asks the barman with a grin.

Assuming there is room, he puts the bag of stuff he brought from Addie up on the bar and looks along the bar so he can get an idea of what they are selling.

"No, that's Casey."  The barkeep points to a small black urn with a gold coloured plate attached to it, standing on a high shelf behind the bar.  "Been in that thing for the last thirty or thirty-five years.  I can lift him down if you want a word with him, but I can't guarantee he'll be feeling talkative."

He starts serving the drinks, and somehow manages to resist the temptation to spit in Ash's, though he does give the impression that he believes the navigator has just ordered something toxic.  Still, it seems that he does take a certain degree of professional pride in his work - the glasses are clean.

"So Burke sent you over did he?  Shame he didn't come over himself... I could have had a word with him about his tab."

He looks at Tylen's bag laying on the bar, "Anything else?"

Tylen grins broadly at the mention of Burke's tab  "He did recommend you warmly ..." he says to the man behind the bar.  "But really we were interested in some carry outs.  Wine, beer, maybe even a bottle of something stronger?  The boss has decided he wants a party on the ship." he says in mock exasperation,  then he grins again "But seeing as I am going as well, there needs to be a goodly selection to choose from." he says clearly anticipating a decent drinking session on his bosses money.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:20, Sun 26 May 2013.

Ash keeps his mouth shut.  The thinly-veiled, contempt of the barkeep and the glaring animosity of the rest of the patrons is readily apparent.  He rather warily, and a bit sullenly, nurses his non-alcoholic beverage, taking only a tentative sip.  He makes a show of swallowing the contents of his glass.

And Tylen seems to have things under control, thankfully.  As Ash waits for the barkeep to acknowledge his fellow scout's request for resupply, he pipes Shui's beverage list to Tylen's own dataglove for easy access.  That way, both of them will know what is needed, allowing either of them to vocalize the specifics.  Depending on what the natives want.  Ash glances about warily, to make sure that the other patrons aren't showing making any other moves, except to try and burn holes in their hides with their stares...

The prospect of a sale larger than a single beer and a glass of water seems to ameliorate the bartender's surly mood.  He even manages a smile, tight-lipped and small though it is.

"You're offworlders aren't you?  Nobody from Rangent would be looking for wine.  I can sell you beer, and spirits, all locally made, and I've even got a half-dozen of bottles of mead - there's a couple of lads over at Falwell keep bees in the agridome.  But nobody on Rangent grows anything you can makes wine from.  Which means it has to be imported."  he shakes his head, "And because we're not exactly on a major trade route, that means that wine is too expensive for the likes of Casey's and its usual customers.  Most other places too."

"Apart from those few bottles of mead, which I'm told isn't bad, I've got two types of beer - dark and light - your drinking the dark now.  And two types of spirits too, vodka and whiskey.  The only real difference is the flavouring they add to the whiskey.  That, and the vodka will kill your sense of taste."

”I figured as much” Tylen shares his grin with both Ash and the barman.  ”Still, I’ll take all the mead, a couple of bottles of each of the spirits   and …  how many beers are there in a case?” He asks doing a rough calculation.

”I suppose I should have a couple of dozen of each of the beers …” he says with a grin, ”You take Imperial Credits ….?” he half asks.
This message was lightly edited by the player at 08:01, Sat 01 June 2013.

Ash nods to Tylen, returning his fellow crewmember's smile with one of his own.  Luckily, he seems to have turned the situation around much quicker and more easily than the Profit Margin's navigator could have.  So, he continues to nurse his spit-free, non-alcoholic beverage and returns to his vigil over the other patrons of Casey's while Tylen finishes up his transaction with the bartender.

The barkeep places four bottles on the counter, "Two each, vodka and whiskey.  The beer is in cases of 20 bottles each."  He continues talking as he starts to pull more bottles from under the counter, "And six bottles of mead."

"I can take Imperial Credits, yes, but I'll have to add currency tax if you're not using florins."

He starts scribbling numbers down on a piece of paper, then consults a newspaper, one that actually seems to be printed on paper, "Exchange rate is... that much?  Oh, well."

More numbers, and some calculations.  "Spirits work out to six credits a bottle.  Beer is forty credits each case.  The mead, three credits apiece."
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:02, Tue 04 June 2013.

Tylen shrugs and hands over the money, he understands that he is probably being rooked, but then again he is in a strange bar where he really doesn't know the prices.

As many bottles as possible go into the coats pockets and the bag he has, then he
reaches down to pick up one of the cases of beer and the bag of goodies from Addie - both in the his left hand..

"Can you get the rest? He asks the navigator.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:13, Tue 04 June 2013.

Ash nods with an "Of course" in response to Tylen's request.  He takes a moment more to watch a furtive threesome in one of the corners, observing them over his glass.

Then he pushes his half-finished glass of carbonated water back across the bar and tosses an extra 20Cr credstick onto the bar next to the glass.  "Thanks." he states simply to the barkeeper.

The thin navigator of the Profit Margin pockets the remaining bottles that he can and grabs the handles to the other two cases of beer.  Ash lets out a quiet "woof" as he hefts the weight, obviously weighed down a fair bit.  "Ready?" he prompts his companion, as the transaction appears to have been completed, then adds, "Back to the Margin first, to drop stuff off?"  Ash is pretty sure that he can't carry much more - and there are a fair number of items still on the grocery list to get (and presumably carry)...

As Tylen and Ash, their primary goal in hand, head for the bar exit, the room once again falls silent.  It appears that moving strangers are more of a concern than those who are standing still.  As the door swings closed behind the two men though, and just before it closes completely, they can here voices inside raised in cheery cameraderie and revelry.

The door finishes closing with a definite slam, as if the bar itself is glad to see them leave.

And their comms chirp, both of them, trying to attract attention...

Tylen finds a quietish spot so he can put his load down while he checks his Comm.

How quick can we get into orbit catches his attention and his eyebrows shoot upwards.

"We had better get back pronto ..." he suggests to Ash.  Bending he retrieves his load, then allows the fingers of his free hand to brush the grip of his revolver.  For a moment he considers pushing the side of the coat backwards, so that both the revolver and shotgun are in plain sight, but then he grins at his own paranoia and leaves things exactly as they were.

However, he does scan the area around them, if Jago is that concerned, it is probable best to 'be aware' of the surroundings.

"Ready when you are ..." he says signalling his readiness to depart as soon as Ash is ready.

Without any further hesitation, the two men start back through the maze of gangways, alleys and passages which make up the marketplace.

The place seems a bit more crowded than when they first passed this way.  If they passed this way.  A few of the stalls seem unfamiliar, but then again, they were only really paying attention to certain types of vendor on the way in.

After a little while they step around the corner of a stall selling second-hand clothing which neither man remembers seeing previously... and the airlock is right in front of them, on the other side of what passes for a street here.  The fact that somebody has set up a stall in front of the large vehicle hatch just demonstrates how rarely it is used.

"Spare a few bits, Mister?"

The voice, a child's, comes from behind them.

"I can find you a few credits if you get us back to the proper airlock." Tylen says as he turns around.

Obviously preoccupied with his load of beverages, Ash fails to notice that he and Tylen are actually lost; presumably having taken a wrong turn somewhere.  The Profit Margin's navigator nearly runs into his companion when they reached the airlock only to find it to be the wrong one.  Blocked by a truck.

Thankfully, his surprise masks his consternation at being lost.  Ash has always tried to pride himself on not getting lost.  Tried.  And failed in this particular case, apparently.

Trying not to look too eager, the thin ex-scout nods in agreement with his fellow ex-scout's offer to the young urchin.

"Fair enough.  This way." the kid leads the way across to the vehicle hatch, past it, around a corner... and steps into territory that looks much more familiar to the two crewmen.  The entrance to a smaller pedestrian airlock is clearly visible from here.

Their guide holds out his hand, clearly pleased at the prospect of being rewarded handsomely in valuable foreign currency, and for only about fifteen seconds of work.

"There you go, Mister.  Please give generously, my Mam told me, 'Kindness is its own reward.'"

Tylen reaches into his pocket and comes up with a handful of shrapnel - he scoops out a couple of five credit coins and then passes the rest across to the kid.  There is a mix of quarter, half and one credit coins left, which are probably worth 3 or 4 credits over all.  Not a lot to Tylen, but a decent reward for the kids effort.

"Thanks kid." he says with a grin as he hands the coins over.  "Don't spend them all at once ..."  But then his attention moves on from their guide, as he scans the area again.  That message from Jago really has put him on his guard.

Ash chuckles slightly, well it is more of a half-snort.  But the smile on his face ensures that the sound is only meant as an acknowledgement of humor of situation.  And that they appear to have avoided the more dangerous elements of Davis City.  Placing one case down on the ground for a moment, his right hand disappears in his pocket and then reappears with the credstick.

"Fast tenner that you'll make today, I warrant..." the Margin's navigator quips while flipping the small black piece to the boy.  "Don't spend it all in one place." he warns their erstwhile guide with a crooked smile.

Ash pulls his collar up and puts on his gloves before taking up the two cases of liquor and moving towards the airlock.  He only glances Tylen's way to make sure that his companion is moving along with him.  Jago's message sounded urgent; so, there was precious little time to waste.  Well, precious little more time to waste...

The guide doesn't wait.  He calls, "Thanks!" over his shoulder, even as he heads back the way he came at a fast trot.

Ash and Tylen enter the airlock, taking a moment to adjust the clothing against the elements, and settle their masks in position, before continuing through the second door, and out onto the ice.

Profit Margin and Ore Hound can be clearly seen, sitting just where they were when the two men entered the dome.  There doesn't seem to be any sign of trouble.  Fully laden with essential supplies, the pair start back across the frigid landscape...

Ash bundles up and rushes as quickly as he can towards the Profit Margin; both for his own safety and comfort as well as Jago's order.  Everything might seem in order... but, given the Captain's message, looks can be deceiving.

The Margin's navigator careful picks his way along trying to balance his less-dextrous, beverage-laden frame with the required urgency.  He can only hope that they aren't too late for whatever it is...

Tylen leaves his coat hanging open, deciding he would rather be cold but still have access to his weapons.  However, he  makes sure his mask is properly adjusted and then strides along behind the navigator.  As he walks he glances around, alert for any signs of trouble, he knows that Yas will be alert -  but a second pair of eyes, and a different perspective, can sometimes see things that the first one misses.

The two men make their way across the ice with no difficulty, apart from the somewhat treacherous footing.  Before too long, they are home again after their successful mission.

Tylen keys in the access code, and the ramp drops with its familiar screech.

Entering the hold, they still find no signs of trouble...

Once Ash is a board, Tylen Hustles up behind him, keying to close the hatch as soon as they are in.  As the ramp is closing, Tylen opens up comms on the crew channel.  "Ash and I are back aboard.  Closing ramp.  Where do you want us?" he asks assuming Jago is monitoring that channel.

Then, not knowing Shui has gone ashore, he sends a quick text message to the stewardess -| We managed mead, beer and rot gut.   No wine available :( |-
This message was lightly edited by the player at 16:44, Tue 25 June 2013.