"I shall see what I can locate," Shui notes, already beginning a search for Darrian ale (and piggybacking a second search atop it). "Hopefully I can locate something decent that will go with the food.  And your ale, Mr. Armusezash."

She doesn't have a lot of time, but if there's a spaceport, there's a shop with imports.  A shop with imports will have alcohol, at ridiculously inflated prices.  That's not a problem for Shui...moneywise, she's not exactly poor and she isn't spending it on anything else.

"But water and coffee for you, then, Keryn.  Not an issue at all."

Eneris looks at his sleeves, and the front of his tunic, "I suppose I should get out my best clothes.  Oh... wait... I'm wearing them." he says, grinning.  Then he reconsiders, before asking, "How formal is this going to be?  I can always check if my old naval uniform still fits."

"You have a uniform?" Keryn asks, sounding shocked.  "I can't imagine you in... wait, Navy?  Aren't Navy uniforms all white?  I think Yas told me that one time."

"Yes, I have a uniform, and yes, it's white.  And, yes, it's clean."

"Indeed, a uniform, and it suits him well.  If it requires further work," Shui absently notes, checking her dataglove, "please inform me, Mr. Armusezash.  Granted, this is not a formal dinner, but should one wish to arrive in formal clothing, one may."  Her brows draw together for an instant.  "Not...too formal, if you would.  I am unsure about how those of the Ore Hound will arrive, and I would not wish for them to be uncomfortable."

Her eyes narrow.  "This port...there is not even a network."  The Steward sighs.  "Well.  Without knowledge of what is available, I can hardly ask our intrepid buyers to purchase.  I shall have to go myself.  Ms. Taylor, Mr Armusezash, Mr. DeSant; is there aught you desire in town?  I will leave shortly."

Her expression grows sombre. "I am not confident I will find anything of value...I must have a small wine celler put into the galley when next we put in at an appropriate port."

Keryn shakes her head slowly, "I don't think so.  I have more clothes in my cabin, and I'm sure some of them would work for a not-too-formal dinner."

Eneris, likewise, can't think of anything he needs.  Corlan, on the other hand, is quick to offer help, "If you want, I can help you draw up a list of good wines, depending on your proposed menu of course, and reasonable facsimiles.  I doubt you can get any of them here, but you never know your luck."

"Oh, dren!"

"Language!" Eneris interjects with a smirk.

Keryn pokes her tongue out at the man, "I just remembered, one of the things I thought of wearing needs mending.  A seam has pulled apart.  I can repair it easily enough myself, but I don't have any thread.  Or a stitcher."

About to leave, Shui pauses.  "Ms. Taylor, the offer still stands.  We could attempt shopping together - my treat, and please, allow me this - especially after I retain Mr. DeSant's list of wines."  It's unlikely they'll be available, but it's the thought that counts and Shui would be pleased to serve one of Corlan's wines at the table.  "I shall send you my planned courses, Mr. DeSant."

Back to Keryn.  "Of course, if you aren't comfortable shopping at present, I can certainly find what you need in the port.  Thread and stitcher - I would merely need to know the colour."  Pursing her lips, Shui frowns.  "I will be leaving shortly, either way.  I fear I have a great deal to do...though that certainly does not preclude a stop somewhere to seek out proper clothing, should you agree."

"Colour?  Oh... of course, they probably don't have Colour-Morph threads here."  Keryn says, frowning.  "I suppose it will need to be blue... just a minute."  She hurries into her cabin and comes back moments later with a tunic in a deep royal blue.  "This colour."

"I think it's probably best if I don't come with you, if you don't mind.  I have clothes, but nothing really good for this sort of weather - we didn't get snow at home, and the temperature was always the same."

She looks a little embarrassed at this admission of a lack of warm clothing.

"Oh, of course, Ms. Taylor."  Shui snaps a quick picture of the tunic with her dataglove camera, ensuring it's set to TruColour™ mode.  "Foolish of me; of course you wouldn't have cold weather clothing.  I could remedy that, should you wish.  Just let me know, now or via messaging."

With her work in the Lounge finished for the moment, the Steward quickly returns to her room to dress for the weather.  Given the spaceport situation, she scorns her snubpistol...as is her habit, when at all possible.  Otherwise, Shui takes along her 'black bag' of medicines and paraphenalia, as well as her dataglove, hidden under her coat.

Then, once fully prepared (and assuming nobody has any last minute requests or needs), she heads out into the spaceport, map loaded up into her dataglove, location of the various stores that MIGHT carry something of use to her flagged.

Shui, filter mask firmly in place and clothes secured against the cold, trudges across the ice to the dome.  As she passes Ore Hound she can hear a loud thumping from the ship - either somebody is hammering on the interior of the hull, or they're listening to music with a bass line that probably interferes with planetary seismic surveys.

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.  Shui pulls it down, and the heavy door slides upward, rattling worryingly and granting access to an airlock.  Underfoot the ice gives way to cracked and dirty concrete.

Shui passes through the lock and into the dome itself...

She finds herself in what appears to be some sort of market.  Makeshift stalls fill the space, selling everything from hard copy books and magazines, to weapons.

The first word that springs to mind is "shabby".  The lighting is subdued, not by design, but due to layers of grime encrusting the light housings, and the missing or burned out light strips.  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 graffiti.

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, and business appears to be booming...

Well.  This isn't going to work out, she suspects.

Still, one never knows what one might find.  Shrugging off her filter mask (after checking to see it's the case with the other people here), Shui takes a deep breath, then resolves to sip the air sparingly.  Redolent with a humid reek, the scent in here borders upon nauseating to her.  Of course, she's worked in worse (that time as one of the janitors on the intrasystem cruise ship).  She's lived in worse (that time on the mining ship).

She'll manage here, just as soon as her nose acclimatizes.

Best to just start looking.  Pulling off her hood, she begins a systematic search through the rat-warren market, slicing lines through it back and forth, wall to wall, in search of some kind of half-decent wine for trade.  One never knows what one might find.  Inquiries, also; for all she knows, one of the upper floors harbors what this place might consider a hoity-toity store.  One can't know without asking, so she does.

It's not, in all, her most positive experience, but one wouldn't know it to look at her, smiling slightly as she speaks to vendors, pacing through the crowd with care to cause the least disturbance.  After all...it has been worse.

Shui makes her way through the crowded market area, but doesn't see any stalls which are selling alcoholic beverages of any description.  She does, however, spot five or six places where she can buy a wide variety of firearms.

Other stalls sell electronic equipment, all of it woefully primitive to her eyes, and none of it supporting holographic displays or dynamic interfaces.  A few sell second-hand clothing, fabrics, yarn, and tools for making and mending clothers.

Mostly, though, the market has food stalls, stocked with plenty of fish, fish products, some fresh vegetables, and a lot of dried marine plants.

Her questions reveal that she may not be able to find wine here.  There is no wine produced on Rangent, where agricultural space is at a premium, and the cost of imports, the planet being off the main trade lanes and outside Imperial Space, price luxury items beyond the means of anybody who tends to shop in the market.

From one stall holder, she also receives some advice...

"If I were you, love, I wouldn't be asking everybody around here about wine.  If you let people know you're in the market for something imported and expensive, it's only a matter of time before the wrong people hear about it and realise you must be well off."

Shui offers a sad smile to the vendor.  "My thanks.  And you are correct.  It doesn't seem wise, does it?  I'm afraid I've let my enthusiasm for creatomg a decent dinner overcome my good sense." 

With a sigh, she abandons her thoughts of wine.  If she finds it, she finds it, though it's seeming more and more unlikely.  Then again, if there's an organized crime on this world, she'd be able to buy it there...

...and possibly get Jago in more trouble than the wine is worth.

Obsession be hanged, she won't be a party to ruining their landing here.  With a firm nod, Shui switches gears.  "Perhaps you can tell me where I can find some kind of fruit drink, then.  Barring that, some local drink...assuming it isn't made in a still with methanol."  Another small smile and a sad shrug, and she looks about the stall to see what sort of things this vendor sells.  Perhaps she can find a souvenir; after all, better to buy from the helpful sorts.

"Fruit drinks?  Any number of places can sell you bottled concentrates - mix them with a little water and they're just as good as fresh juice, and made from produce grown in the agridome over at Falwell.  That stall over there probably has some."

The vendor gives a sympathetic smile, before he adds, "Sorry I couldn't help you with the wine.  Oh, talking of which... you see that place over there, says Casey's on the front of it?  It's a bar.  Rough place.  Avoid it.  Regulars aren't as friendly as me - if you get in there five minutes after they open, the chances are you'll have already missed three fights and a shooting."

"If you want to buy something alcoholic, there's a bar at the other side of the market called The Well.  They won't have any wine, but they'll sell you beer, and spirits that won't blind you.  And they're friendly."

Shui inclines her head. "The warning is appreciated...as is the advice, sir.  I shall act upon it, and take myself to The Well in search of some form of libation."  There's always the possibility that this is a complete setup, of course, but one must trust to find trust.  "First the stall for the fruit drink, of course.  And here."

Pursing her lips, she peruses the various items, finally choosing a set of playing cards (decorated with fish) and a coffee cup with a fish-y motif.  For visitors.  "These will help me remember your kindness," she informs the man.

After which, it's first to the fruit stall in order to purchase an assortment of concentrates, then Shui will head on her way in search of The Well.  Once out of sight of the vendor, though, she takes a right angle turn, walks for a minute, then continues in the proper direction.

With her purchases tucked into a paper bag - real paper - very coarse, but not plastic - with two lengths of red cord knotted through it for handles, Shui first goes to pick up some fruit.

The selection is limited, and a little expensive, since this world apparently has limited agricultural facilities, but at least it's all fresh.  And she even manages to get some cut flowers, though she doesn't recognise the variety.

Then she starts to make her way towards where the stall holder told her she will find The Well.

She hasn't gone far through the complex maze of of alleys and gangways that make up the market before she finds herself in a dead end.  Turning back she spots a group of people in what look to be black uniforms moving into the last intersection.  They appear to be accosting passers-by.

One of them, a large man, with more scars than it should be possible to fit on one face, smiles at her.  Well, presumably it's intended to be a smile - it's more like a rearrangement of the scars.  And in a deep voice, he asks her, "Sister... are you prepared to meet your creator?"

Her comm unit chirps, trying to get her attention.

Frowning, Shui studies the offending wall for a long moment.  She'll have to find another way, obviously, only...now the way back is blocked.  By another wall.  Though not so offensive, despite the scars.  Smiling, she moves forward when her dataglove summons her.  "Oh dear," she murmurs.  "Please excuse me one moment, sir."

A flick of the holoswitch opens up the com - she keeps the man in her peripheral vision the whole time - and Shui catches the captain's message.  Another small sigh.  "Understood, Captain Lanza.  I shall report immediately."  A woeful look at her parcels follows; she's not yet finished.

Then up to the rather large man, she walks.  "I'm terribly sorry for the interruption.  My captain requires me at my ship immediately.  However, I am certainly free for discussion on the way, should you wish to accompany me."

No matter how scarred his face is, it's not as horrifying as the ones she sometimes sees in her dreams.  And it's smiling.

"A ship, is it?"

Behind the man, his companions turn away from the people they have accosted, and are watching Shui, openly staring at her.

As the woman walks towards him, the big man takes a step nearer himself, towering over Shui, and what passes for a smile fades from his face.  His voice is dead serious, "You shouldn't have come here.  You call for help around here, and everybody is deaf."  He walks with smooth certainty, as if he always knows exactly where he is placing his feet, and what will be under them on the next step.  There are no wasted movements, no flamboyant gestures.

As close as she is Shui notes that he has a curved, narrow bladed knife tucked into a sheath at his belt.

"Bad area for foreigners.  Very bad.  You took a wrong turn?"

This could be a very, very bad situation.  Shui's head slowly cocks to the right as the man enters her space; she notes the change in his movements, his balance, his weight.  Trained, and decently so at the least.  A blade to consider.  And the woman moves in as well, perhaps for backup.

It's not the best situation for her to be in at all...assuming they mean her harm, of course.

"I believe I might have taken a wrong turn," Shui replies, nodding.  "I hope you can help me find my way back to the spaceport."  His words, if viewed from the perspective of fear, might appear threatening.  But calm, careful listening reveals them as more likely some kind of warning.  And carrying a knife isn't automatically the sign of a villain.  It could very well be a tool.

Tension gnaws at Shui's nerves, but true fear remains at bay.

"Gladly, but there is one condition."  The horrific smile returns, and he reaches behind him for something, a satchel as it turns out, which he drags round to the front, where he proceeds to pull out a bundle of pamphlets bound with a black cord.

"Please take these with you."

Behind him, the rest of his group are watching Shui with an air of expectation and curiosity.

Shui's new acquaintance holds out the bundle towards her.  The image on the cover of the top pamphlet shows a dome, similar to this one, on a field of ice, reminiscent of Rangent itself.  But there all resemblance to her current locale ends, unless she somehow managed to miss the golden aura around the dome on her way in, and the three large winged humanoids hovering above it.

The text below the image reads, "His Word".

"Of course," Shui agrees.  It's a small price to pay, and to be frank, she's interested.  Learning all of the nine billion names of God is impossible, of course, but she has been exposed to many on her travels and is always curious to learn more.  In understanding how others see the universe, she feels, one might take a step closer to understanding for oneself.

And who knows?  One might find the truth in one of these pamphlets.

"Goodness, there's a few," she murmurs, taking the stack and juggling it and her parcel for a moment.  "I could put it in the bag...no condensation would wet them down."  A moment's thought, then she remembers her cold weather clothing has pockets.  Large ones.  "Ah.  They will fit better in here, safe and sound." Into the pockets they go, and she looks up at the looming man. "I shall read every word," the doctor promises. "If your kindness is representative of their teachings, then there must be something to what is written here."

The man bows, "This way, please."  Again the hideous smile, and he starts to walk, pausing only to explain to his companions, "Our sister has agreed to help spread His Word among the heathen offworlders like herself." He turns to Shui, "No offence." then continues speaking to his own group, "I have offered a small service in return, to lead her home, much as Joachab guided the Vilani through the blizzard and was rewarded a thousandfold when the Vilani repaired the pump."

There is a brief chorus of approval from the other proselytisers, before their large colleague moves away with the much smaller woman hurrying to keep up.

"You should be careful in strange places.  Not all such places are safe, and not all men would offer to help, as I did.  There are sinners everywhere." he pronounces sternly, having walked about twenty metres or so.

SHui pauses politely while the man discusses the matter with his fellows, and nods to him when he offers her apology.  "No offense, no."  By his religion, after all, it's true, and he did apologize.  She takes note of his analogy for comparison to what she reads.

"I fear my desire to do my duty outweighed my common sense," Shui confesses.  "I should have known better, perhaps examined the literature in more detail.  I am quite glad to have met you, however, rather than one of the other kind of people you mention."  There's a short pause.  "I'm sorry, you mentioned 'the Valani'.  Perhaps you might illuminate me on that subject as we walk?"

The proselytiser continues walking as he speaks, "Vilani, yes.  Joachab was a trader, plying his wares between the cities of Spencer and North Point.  Once he was caught in a blizzard, but continued to drive, as he was less than two hours from his destination.  He encountered another man, who was driving a vehicle of odd design, and who signalled Joachab to stop."

"The stranger spoke with the accent of a Vilani, and said that he was trying to find Weather Station, but had become lost in the storm.  Joachab turned aside from his own journey to lead the stranger to his destination, even though doing so would add an extra hour to his journey."

"When they reached Weather Station Joachab's vehicle broke down and would not restart, and the Vilani repaired it by mending the fuel pump, so that Joachab could travel onward."

The man smiles, clearly satisfied that this parable had reached a satisfactory conclusion.  "Had Joachab not turned aside, but continued on his own way and ignored the plight of the stranger, he would have been stranded in the wilderness during a blizzard, and with no means to heat the vehicle.  Thus are we shown that the good man who aids those in need will be rewarded a thousandfold."

"Just as I am rewarded by assisting you in your time of need."

Shui nods again.  "A worthy lesson, indeed.  One from which I believe that many might benefit.  Well said, sir."  Her head turns; she has to look up to see the man's scarred face, and she does. "My name is Shui Tiesi, by the way.  It is my pleasure and honor to meet a man such as yourself."

Her lips thin as she considers the situation. "If only I could assist you in turn...beyond distributing your words, and I am more than happy to do so."  Perhaps she can find an extra seat at the table?  But no, Jago has called for everyone to return ASAP, and that doesn't bode well for her dinner plans.  Best not to offer that, then.

"I am called Stefan.  Your assistance is more than sufficient.  One of the goals of our mission is to spread the Word to hea- " he stops and corrects himself, "to offworlders.  There aren't many chances to do that here on Rangent."

Ahead now is a large vehicle lock, partly blocked by traders' stalls.  "Here we are.  The airlock for foot travellers is just around here."  He makes his way around a corner, into a narrow corridor which holds a smaller airlock door.

"You should be safe from here.  Be sure to wear your mask beyond this point."

"Thank you, Stephan."  Shui offers another little bow as they arrive at the airlock.  "I'm glad to hear I can repay you in some form for your kindness.  I wish..." She cocks her head to the side to study him.  "Would that more people were like you.  Perhaps the universe would be a calmer place."  Raising the pamphlets, she nods her head.  "I shall most certainly distribute these."

Certainly the universe could do worse than having another religion emphasizing kindness and charity.

Affixing her mask firmly to her face, she gives her savior a final bow before heading into the airlock and paging the ship.

++ I am nearly there, Captain Lanza. ++