Inderpal made her own order and smiled as the grapefruit mimosas turned up.

"Excellent choice" she said as she raised the glass in a toast and took a small mouthful. This was going to be a fun evening and probably a drunken one, which would arguably help things. You learned a lot of things from drunk diplomats.

"What's the rumour? Tell me and I'll tell you if it's true..."

In reply to Samantha Kilgore (msg # 75):

Vonon considers that for a moment,

"Right is Right, and Illegal is Illegal--whether the People want The Law enforced or not." Vonon responded, "I regret no action that I took, no.  I saw my duty and I did it.  And I would do so again, in the same circumstances."

"My Mother wasn't doing anything wrong, herself, you understand.  She was just turning a blind eye and keeping quiet about what was happening.  She said that the abuses of power by some of the folks in charge just weren't that serious, and that pursuing them would disrupt things more than letting them slide.  I disagreed."

"I suppose, in the end, she was correct, but I still stand by my actions.  Others, however, see me as just a trouble-maker--what is that saying from Old Earth?--that I am a Queen of the Drama."

"Ah, here we are..."

Vonon stops outside of a business façade which very much looks like an armored security post.  There is a central door with a doorman/bouncer in front--only the bouncer is a Vargr wearing what looks like a functional armored spacesuit with the helmet open.  In the recessed doorway, abouve the double panels of the door, is a holographic representation of an old-school neon sign which reads "The Filthy Cur" with a small, animated image of a Vargr firing a machine gun on full auto on either side of the name.

To either side of the central door are what could be windows--it's hard to tell because they have blast-shutters rolled down over them, with anti-Drakaar Minerals statements--things like 'Free The Belt!', 'Cassandra Miner's Liberation Army' and 'Space the Drakaar Pigs!'--sprayed upon them in multi-colored spray-paint, while numerous bullet scars and laser burns cover the surrounding walls.

Abouve all this, in large holographic red letters, reads a flickering sign--"Drakaar Central Security"--every now and then a random letter in the sign explodes in a shower of holographic sparks which cascade down to the floor.

Sharik shugged noncommittally, when prompted to spill the dirt; her face a mask of  indifference.  But then the facade cracked, and she smiled brightly again.  A sip of the tart bubbly later and the diminutive socialite leaned in.  "I heard...." and she glanced about to see if anyone else was listening, just for effect, "that he was nineteen and very much in love."  She dipped her freshly-baked bread in the flavored olive oil provided.

The petite Asian woman paused, brushing back an errant lock of auburn hair as she chewed for a moment.  Perhaps it was just for effect, but also perhaps to see her dinner companion might confirm or deny anything already said.  Well, that and her appetizer had arrived; so, she waited for the server to finish before speaking any further on the matter.

"Some say there was a proposal involved.  But we know that can't happen due to station, of course." Shar noted off-hand, presumably using the royal 'we'.  Then after plucking a spiced olive from her dish, she added rather conspiratorially, "My understanding was that he was already promised in a previous arranged marriage."

She watched Indy carefully as she took another sip of her mimosa, "Could have been a major diplomatic incident..."  Her tone was a mix of casual sympathy and vague disapproval.  But there was something else - a sort of genuine understanding.  As though, the circumstances were not all that uncommon.  Or perhaps for Sharik herself, not all that impersonal or unfamiliar.

Inderpal rolled her eyes slightly, then laughed. So it was that particular ambassador's son, not the other one.

"He did propose to me, but he was very much in lust, not love. He basically got drunk, broke into my room and tried, unsuccessfully, to seduce me. One, he was barely out of school and two, he had an awful looking nose. I reason you could stick jumper cables up his nostrils. Anyway, I'm sure he's making someone happy now."

When one was a diplomat, one learned to be very erudite in your trash talk. Or rather your refuse discussion.

"It's not to say I've not had some fun."

"Nice place V. It surprises me you're still single, when you obviously know how to treat a lady." Sam drawls, a grin on her face.

"Shall we" she says motioning towards the entrance

As they go in Sam scans the bar, looking for any other exits, and any particularly dodgy looking customers
This message was last edited by the player at 08:21, Fri 25 Jan 2019.

Sharik simply raised an eyebrow; she loved the banter, but could usually tell when things were being held back.  There were plenty of reasons to refuse a proposal - some better left unsaid.  "A girl's got to have her standards, of course." the auburn-haired socialite noted amiably, before she prompted her dinner companion lightly about the real reason that they were here, "So, what's really on your mind, Ms. Kumar?"  It obviously wasn't marriage, hook noses, or libations.

She poked idly at some of the cold cuts on the appetizer laid out before her, while watching her fellow scout intently and letting Indy take the lead on this one.  Sharik loved her company, but was pretty sure that simply playing catch up didn't warrant such urgency.

"Well..." Inderpal said, considering precisely how to phrase this for a couple of seconds. The choice of words was vital in any diplomatic discussion, especially when dealing with potential difficult opponents.

She lowered her gaze slightly and ran her finger round the rim of her glass in an almost flirtatious.

"I'm looking for a job. On your ship."

In reply to Samantha Kilgore (msg # 80):

OOC:  Sorry, again!  Sorry.  I had my brain washed several days ago, and I just haven't been able to do a thing with it since!

---

Once through the door, Vonon and Sam can take in the décor--a fusion of Totalitarian Security Office combined with Battlefield Chic.  The large space is obviously laid out to be a functional bar and grill, with a wide bar on the wall across from the door and several clusters of table booths, each having six tables separated from each other by vertical rods of multi-colored crystal rods which vibrate, making sounds similar to those of windchimes, and making it hard to hear what's happening in the next booth.  Despite the pleasant colors and peaceful sounds, the layout of the crystal rods is still reminiscent of bars on a prison cell.

Around the room are scenes reminiscent of being inside a target range--wall mounted electronics appear to have been shot up and are now randomly spitting sparks, what appear to be power-suited bodies with brown markings all over the armor are draped lifelessly over railings or crumpled on the floor in corners.  Autoturrets up on the ceiling swing about suddenly, bringing their weapon barrels to bear on a customer--and colorful lights shine from the barrels and illuminate the customer for a moment, accompanied by laughter from the customers companions.

And everywhere there are Uniforms.

The wait staff--who appear to all be Humans--are wearing what looks like a brown tactical one-piece jumpsuit, with the words "Drakaar Minerals Security" in white on the backs.  They are also all wearing what look to be active Compulsion Collars--electronic collars that can stun, electro-shock, or even kill the person wearing them by use of a remote device--and all the blinking lights on the collars seem to indicate these are active.  There are a few Vargr wearing the same brown jumpsuit, with the same logo on the back, but the Vargr aren't wearing Compulsion Collars, they are, instead, wearing wide, white armbands on their right arms.

Much of the clientele, maybe about seventy percent, is also in uniform--black trousers tucked into black spaceboots (almost identical to what Vonon is wearing) with a long-sleeved, dark grey shirt that's only a few shades lighter than the trousers, with a black collar and wearing a long, narrow black tie.  A handful of the people wearing this uniform are also wearing a heavy, leather-looking black jacket--again, pretty much identical to the one Vonon's wearing.

In fact, as the door is hissing closed behind them, Sam can look over at the nearby wall and see dozens of black caps--just like the one Vonon is wearing--hanging on pegs, only these caps all have a gold-colored badge on them.  At first she thinks it's an atom symbol, but quickly realizes it's a round star with a pair of crossed orbital paths over the star.

And a handful of these uniformed customers are wearing crimson-colored garrison belts--with holsters.

A lady Vargr wearing the brown jumpsuit with a white brassard on her right upper arm and no Compulsion Collar around her neck steps over to Vonon and Sam--she has a heavy-looking Snub Machine Pistol hanging on her chest from a lanyard around her neck.

"Good afternoon, Citizens." she says in excellent Anglic, with only an underlaying hint of a growl, "Will you be dining with us, or would you rather go on to the bar?"

"A booth, please.  Far from the bar." Vonon requests.

The Vargr woman cocks her head to the left at the request, "Well, let's see if we can fix you up with what you want!" she says with a smile, as she reaches for the Snub Gun.

Sam bristles as the woman reaches for her weapon, but as Vonun seems unfazed she assumes its just a prop. Like she hopes the Compulsion collars are. But she waits silently until the waitress sorts out their table.

In reply to Samantha Kilgore (msg # 84):

The hostess brings up the Snub SMG, pointing it a little to her left, and pulls the trigger--a holographic map of the club's layout appears hanging in the air,  She looks at it for just a moment, then points with her free hand.

"Here you go--a free table in cluster one, over in the front corner.  Will that do, Sir and Miss?"

"Yes, that will be very nice.  Thank you for your trouble." Vonon responds.

The female Vargr hostess let's the machine gun/holo-projector drop to the end of it's lanyard as she let's out with a loud laugh.

"Ha-ha!!  That's a good one, Sport!" she says with genuine amusement, reaching out to punch Vonon on the shoulder, "Thanking a Dreg!  C'mon, get with the spirit around here!  Next you'll be askin me to slap you around--again! Ha-ha-ha!  C'mon, the table's this way...heh."

The hostess leads Sam and Vonon off to the left, from the door, into the corner of the room where a cluster of six tables is located--each booth separated by glowing, tinkling crystal bars.  She stops at the entrance to a booth with no view of the main bar, across the room, and gestures Sam and Vonon in.

"Here you are.  My name is Reeny, please ask for me if you need anything special.  Your server will be Xavier, and he should be with you in a moment.  Now don't let me hear anything from him about you treating Dregs nice, you hear me, Sport? Ha-ha-ha."

The hostess--Reeny--walks away, leaving Sam and Vonon for a few moments, to wait for their server, Xavier.

Sam slid into her seat and smiled at Reeny as she walked away

Turning to Vonun she smirked and raised an eyebrow "interesting theme to this place. and also - WTF?"

In reply to Samantha Kilgore (msg # 86):

"Remember I told you the nickname of this place--The Filthy Cur--is an inside joke?" Vonon asks, then gestures indicating the entire bar.

"This is a historical reenactment bar.  This building actually was the Central Security headquarters for Drakaar Minerals.  Most of those bullet holes in the walls are real."

Vonon tips his cap back a bit and leans back in the booth, "Cassandra System was originally opened for exploitation by Drakaar Minerals.  They used underhanded tactics to recruit the original miners, then treated them poorly--virtual wage slaves in a spiraling cycle of debt."

"After generations of abuse, the rockhoppers finally started fighting back. Sabotaging Drakaar ships, work slowdowns, some minor terrorism and a few assassinations.  The local Drakaar officials started worrying that the higher-ups back at Corporate might get angry over the losses, so they took some radical action--they sent a recruiter off to The Extents to hire Vargr mercenaries to help them suppress the population."

An attractive young adult Human male wearing one of the brown Drakaar Security uniform jumpsuits and a Compulsion Collar with lots of tiny blinking lights around his neck steps up to the entrance to the booth.

"Hello, my name is Xavier, and I will be your Dreg server.  May I get you a drink, or perhaps some small plates?" he asks with a smile.

"PanGalactic GargleBlaster." Vonon orders, pulling his cap back down, "And skip the forest."

"Got it.  And for you, Miss?"

Sharik tilted her head slightly, in a rather quizzical and definitely feminine, way.  A slight, bemused smile touched her lips when Inderpal made her request for employment on the Longshot.  The auburn-haired dilettante tapped her chin lightly with her fingertips for a moment as her gaze grew a touch distant.  "A job" she stated flatly, "Ah."

She pursed her lips and blew an errant lock of hair from her face.  "Well, let's see." and Shar glanced down at her dataglove started to scroll through a display, "I'm gonna need a resume in triplicate."  She tsk'd slightly, "What is with all these corporate regulations... Need to set up interviews with HR, security, and the Captain...  all through a liaison point.  Likely the corporate Secretary..."  She seemed absorbed in thought, as she continued to scroll.... "Medical exam.... okay.  A psych-eval?  Really?"

"Well," Sharik noted, looking up from her forearm display, which was flashing an ominous red, "there are some hoops to jump through, it seems.  Anyhoo, I will try to put in a good word for you..."  She tapped the display on her dataglove in a couple of places and seemed to be sending off a missive before she leaned in and confided with her companion, "I hear that person in charge of Personnel can be a real pain in the ass.  But just be yourself.  You'll be fine."

Her dataglove pinged dutifully and Sharik glanced down at it, looking quizzical again for a moment.

Then her posture straightened and features took on a more professional demeanor, "Ah, Ms. Kumar, it appears that you are seeking employment on the Longshot, is it?"  One of Sharik's eyebrows shot up at the end of the question, and she paused before glancing down at her dataglove once more.  "I am going to have to ask you a series of questions..." the diminutive ex-operative noted curtly and rather deadpan, "Reaction time is a factor, so please answer as quickly as you can.  Can you describe in only single words, only the good things you remember, about your mother?"

But then the facade cracked, her posture slouched, and she giggled as she waved off the maternal question.  And replaced it with another.  "Employment, eh?" Sharik queried between chuffs, "I'm pretty sure that we can work something out."  She leaned in slightly, after picking up an olive and popping it into her mouth.  Resting her elbows on the table and cradling her chin on the fingers formed by her interlaced fingers, she finished chewing and then prompted Indy once more, "So, what are you doing on Cassie's Belt?  And what crew position do you want to fill on the Longshot?"  Though it seemed idle chatter, it was obviously not strictly idle curiosity.

---

[OOC:  Though Sharik likely knows IC, her player has no idea what Indy's qualifications/skills/UPP &c. are.  Oh, and with only a picture and no description, it is a bit tough to gauge anything else about her physically.  So, feel free to fill in any gaps...:D]

Sam raised two fingers on her right hand in a v sign "Make that two of those please" smiling at the Dreg, " and something fresh to nibble that you would choose if you ate here"

Leaning back in the booth she looked around "OK. Its an angle I suppose. A weird one, but I've seen weirder" Turning back to Vonun she said "So fill me in on the details - why are they called Dregs? And if the Vargr came as enforcers, aren't you guys likely to be extremely unpopular?"

ooc
2 sci fi refs in 2 posts - good going!

Inderpal knew that Sharik could do very well developed practical jokes and was about to make an actual response to the question when Sharik's facade fell and the gag ended.

She smiled.

"I left the Scout Service a couple of months back and moved here. It seemed decent enough, but now one is starting to get seriously bored. You can only eat at so many nice restaurants before you've eaten at them all. I'm pretty much open to doing anything, but I'd love to be a trade broker of some form. I tried that but got drafted before I could get an actual job...

Also, make-up. My mother is a master at elegant make-up that looked natural. Not to mention hair. She could have been a hairdresser if that wasn't seen as below her station."

STATUS UPDATE


Evelyn and Pablo: security detail on the ship.

Inderpal and Sharik: in a posh restaurant catching on things.

Sam and Vonon: having a drink in a bar.

Khea: off and buying engineering supplies.

Serge: off shopping.

Valeska: off drinking at a bar looking to pick up Mr. Right-Now.

Walter: dealing with the cargo--selling what they had, buying more? At the Hotel TAS planning big dinner for the next day.

Let's say you can play out what you want between now and Sunday. Sunday, I'll post Walter's big dinner party.

This message was last edited by the GM at 19:56, Wed 06 Feb 2019.

Sharik quirked her head quizzically at Inderpal's answer about her mother; it was hard to envision Lady Kumar as a hairdresser.  But, as obviously desired by her dinner companion, the thought of Indy's mother manning a cash register was undeniably chuckle-inducing.

The auburn-haired astrogator returned to the woman's other answer with some bemusement still playing on her features.  "Broker?" she reiterated, "Well, the Captain, Sir Walter, will likely have some say in that ..." and she looked thoughtful for a moment, "His brokering skills are ... notoriously formidable.  The Kasu-Sha'az arbitrage deal was his, I believe."  Shar rarely name dropped, but that piece of trade negotiation was well-known throughout the subsector.  "Though, I am sure that something can be worked out." and there was another thoughtful pause.  "Perhaps a junior apprenticeship?" the diminutive ex-operative prompted, "He does love to talk shop..."

"In any case," Sharik continued, "Since we are a small operation, you'll likely have to wear more than one hat.  How about communications officer?  Not always glamorous, but definitely up your alley."  She knew that Indy was a definite partypeople person (despite her extensive stint as an xBoat pilot).  Plus, it could be interpreted as a good segue into personal trading interests.

In reply to Sharik Kaagira (msg # 92):

OOC: I wrote this, like, a week ago, and when I went to post it, it got swallowed by the Internet Monster.  I was just so angry/bummed that I just couldn't focus long enough to re-write it, and so it took several days.  If this one gets lost, I'm just going to crawl into a corner and weep...

---

"Okay, got the drinks." Xavier says with a smile, "Might I suggest for your nibble our Space Rocks?  They are bite-sized soft pretzel balls with a variety of fillings--from cheeses, to meats, to savory mashed vegetable medleys, to sweet fruit compotes.  They are served as a plate of one dozen with mixed flavors.  Each tasty Space Rock is a surprise for your taste buds.  And the lightly salted soft pretzel crust goes well with the mulled spiciness of the GargleBlaster."

After Xavier had left with the order, Vonon addressed Sam's questions,

"Dreg is the nickname that the Rockhoppers gave to anyone working directly for Drakaar Minerals, especially their Security Officers.  So, anyone wearing that brown Drakaar uniform is jokingly called a Dreg, here."

"As for the Vargr wearing Dreg uniforms...well," Vonon says with a grin, "If there is one thing you can count on beyond death and taxes, it's corporate greed."

"The Drakaar recruiter, instead of travelling all the way coreward to The Extents, just travelled over to Daibei Sector, the next sector trailing from The Deep.  He figured any Vargr would be good as enforcers, so he lived the high life on some of the funds he'd been given access to, as he took his time searching for some local Vargr Mercenaries.  As things turned out, he found an entire Ground Forces Regiment that had just formed--all of them experienced ex-military."

"He hired the Battle Dogs Mercenary Regiment under the pretext of a five year Security Garrison job.  Most of the Mercs were ex-Imperial Marines, so a job in an asteroid belt wasn't too much of a stretch.  The money was good, the contract was good--except, as the Battle Dogs found out later, there were a few double-talk clauses that effectively meant if the Regiment ever refused to perform a requested action, or if tey ever wanted to back out of the contract--they'd end up owing Drakaar Minerals more money than the contract was worth.  And with Planet Drakaar being an independent world, here in The Deep, they couldn't count on Imperial Law if they wanted out."

"But hiring the Battle Dogs turned out to be a two-edged sword.  The recuiter from Drakaar--like I said, he wasn't Imperial, had no idea that Vargr who live in the Imperium--and especially those Vargr that take up the Emperor's Uniform--were any different than Vargr from The Extents.  The good folks at Drakaar Minerals thought all Vargr were the same--agressive, mad-dog thugs.  Nobody with Drakaar even bothered to run a background check on the founder of the Battle Dogs, Colonel R'Asta Gerr'ergan--a Vargr ex-Imperial Drop Marine officer, callsign "Death-Stalker".  Or, more importantly, he was also Sir R'Asta Grr'ergan, Imperial Knight."

Vonon smiled as he recalled his history, "Story goes, once Sir R'Asta found out what he'd actually signed his men up to do, his entire command staff had to prevent him from going by himself to the Drakaar Mineral Corporate Center with an autorifle and executing as many members of the Board as he could before was shot down."

"Sir R'Asta's officer cadre pointed out the huge legal and financial difficulty the Unit would be in, if they broke their contract--with or without cause.  Drakaar had written an airtight contract.  So, rather than accomplish nothing by breaking their contract, the Vargr soldiers of the Battle Dogs Mercenary Regiment decided that their violation of their contract with Drakaar Minerals would mean something."

"Outwardly, the Battle Dogs obeyed the orders given them by their Drakaar masters--but in reality they did everything they could to soften the repressive actions ordered by Drakaar while still reporting back that all orders had been followed.  And, it took time, but the Mercenaries eventually made contact with the Anti-Drakaar movement."

Vonon shifted forward and rested his elbows on the table, "You have to understand, Sam, that this wasn't your classical rebellion or civil war.  Most of the rockhoppers really didn't care who was running the place, they just wanted fair and just treatment and fair prices.  If Drakaar suddenly changed policy and started dealing fair with them, all Anti-Drakaar sentiments would likely have disappeared overnight.  But the folks running Drakaar--not just here, but everywhere, I've heard--were just to stupid to believe that.  They acually tought that beating up on rockhoppers and depriving them of needed supplies would make them nuckle under."

Vonon chuckled that odd half-laugh, half-growl laugh that Vargr have, "That policy has never worked with Rockhoppers.  Not anywhere, not ever.  And a lot of Asteroid Mine Supervisiors through-out history have woken up to their bedrooms in vaccuum, to prove it."

"So, for months the Vargr Mercenaries and the Anti-Drakaar factions slowly, secretly worked together and made plans.  Finally the time came when, led by the more experienced Vargr Mercenaries, a short, almost-bloodless coup was held here at Rockport.  There was a little bit of fighting with various personal security for a few Drakaar officials, but most of the fighting took place right...here." Vonon brings a finger down upon the table.

"As I said, this building actually was the Drakaar Security Central Headquarters.  And even with the Vargr Mercenaries being 'inside' the Drakaar Security operations, somehow the Dregs tricked to what was going on at the last tic.  When the Vargr inside here tried to make their play, the Dregs were ready and overwhelmed them.  But the battle plan was so well laid out that the Battle Dogs went ahead with it anyway.  Casualties were a little higher, but one of the Vargr inside here wasn't as dead as the Dregs thought he was.  Took him an hour, but he managed to get a supply hatch open, down in the holding cells, before he truly died."

Xavier returned at that moment with a tray holding two exotically shaped glasses, each holding a bubbling, smoking liquid that was not only glowing with an inner light, but the color of that light kept changing through the spectrum of colors.  One of the glasses had two paper umbrellas in it, as well as a handful of different colored plant stalks--a couple of which seemed to be disolving into the drink.  The other glass had no such frills.

"Here you go, Free Citizens." Xavier says pleasantly, setting the glass with all the frilly stuff sticking out of it in fron of Sam, "One PanGalactic GargleBlaster for Miss...and another for Sir..." Xavier puts the second, unadorned glass in front of Vonon, "Without the Forest, as requested.  And a plate of our signature Space Rocks."

"Will there be anything else you want to kick loose from the Dregs, or shall I come back a little later--if I haven't been put against the wall by then, that is?  Ha-ha-ha-ha!"

"Nothing else now, Havvy.  Maybe later." Vonon says distractedly, looking away.

"Havvy!  Ha-ha-ha! I haven't been called that since--Oh My Buddha!" Xavier suddenly looks shocked, then leans in close to Vonon, "Commander?!!"

Vonon quickly turns his head and goes nose-to-snout with the young human waiter,

"Dammit, Havvy, I am not here! You did not see me.  Please." Vonon quietly growls.

"Right, right, I gotcha, Commander.  I'll take care of ya myself, make sure nobody comes over here." Xavier responds equally quietly, standing up, "I got yer back, Sir, no problem."

Vonon watched Xavier move on as if nothing were going on,

"That dumb-ass Mercenary who killed himself getting the door open so his buddies could get in here quicker..." Vonon said, still watching Xavier, then turning back to Sam as he picked up his frothing drink.

"That stupid bastard was Pack Ronkunu--my GreatGrandfather.  He'd have lived if he just played dead and waited for the Dregs to fall." Vonon shrugs and takes a sip of his drink--leaving a little foam that appears to turn into flame and burn away from his furry upper lip, "Since then it's kinda become a familiy tradition to do stupid, self-sacrificial things that open doors in aide of others--whether that door needs to be opened or not."

As the waiter put down the Space Rocks, Sam looked up and smiled at him, nodding thanks, before reaching over and popping one in her mouth.

She almost choked on it as V finished off his tale and faced off to the waiter, expecting trouble. Swallowing quickly, as V finished talking and took a sip, Sam sat there a little stunned by how much she had learned over not even one drink yet.

So Sam did the only thing she could think of. Picking up her glass she raised it to V and said "To your great grandfather" and took a sip, and then raised the glass again and said "And to holding the doors" taking another larger sip, half finishing her drink before setting it down.

Interlacing her hands, she rested her chin on them and looked at V with her head on a tilt.

"So, your persona non grata here because you blew the whistle on corruption, your grandad was a local hero for being crazy brave, and you admire him enough to be the same, you've just been recognised by a compadre but asked him to keep things on the down low." Sam sighed theatrically "Its really not gonna be a quiet night is it?"

Sitting back up, Sam rubbed her hands togethor in glee, and with a gleam in her eye said "Excellent!" She picked up her glass once more and tipped it again to V and said "To Quiet nights" and downed the rest before throwing her had back and laughing loud and long.

"I'd definitely like communications officer",Inderpal replied as Sharik suggested another role, "I've found that some people really don't use the proper diction these days. That is so important on a radio where poor communication can kill..."

She took a mouthful of her drink and turned back to Sharik, smiling happily, "Well working to improve my trading skills. I ran a lemonade stall for a few months as a child.

With Evelyn holed up in some dark engineering corner that he never even knew existed, Pablo almost felt like he was alone on the ship. Not that that was a bad thing, unless you asked safety organizations or the military, and he'd been alone before. One had to be careful with that, though, as it had a tendency to lead to cabin fever, which, in turn, sometimes drove you to take a walk outside. If you were snowbound in a cabin in the wilderness, especially in winter (unless there was a raging blizzard), the cold and wind drove you back inside before it became hazardous.

On a ship, it wasn't a good idea, especially in j-space. The sensors indicated a formless gray void, but anyone who went out side usually went mad within a minute. Of course, you had to be mad to want to go outside the ship while it was in j-space anyway. Those who had made that mistake reported seeing strange creatures and even stranger objects... none of which registered on the sensors. Lots of theories were suggested to account for this, but since those seeing them were quite mad by then, it was mostly chalked up to mania.

He didn't really need to be on the ship for security purposes, as the ship had its own security systems. On the other hand, what one person could create for security another person could figure out a way around it. Technically, that included people, too. People just added another layer of security and made it that much harder to get around both. In the case of the Longshot, it was an old... make that very old converted System Defense Boat; who would be stupid enough to want to steal it... or even rob it?

Anyway, Pablo had no idea if Evelyn was making forays to the galley to eat; if she was, their paths hadn't crossed yet. Walter's big celebration dinner was only a day away now, so Pablo couldn't help wondering if Evelyn was planning on going... and, if she was, how she'd... handle things.

He stopped in the galley to gather up some food and then went looking for her. He found her, of course, in engineering.

"Hey, Evelyn... I brought you some food... in case you were hungry," he called out. "I've got a fried peanut butter and banana sandwich and a PB-and-J sandwich, if either of those strike your fancy. I've also got chips and fizzy drinks."

"Now I know you say you don't have survivor's guilt or PTSD, but you do realize that you'd be the last one to know that, right? Just sayin'."

"Walter's celebration dinner is tomorrow. So, I was wondering if you were planning on going?"

"I suppose you don't really have to, but you are going to need to interact with the crew. I hate throwing cliches at you, but no man... or woman... is an island."

In reply to Samantha Kilgore (msg # 94):

     "Not exactly persona non grata, but close enough." Vonon says, leaning over the plate of Space Rocks and sniffing a couple times, before taking one.

     "Curry Chicken, my favorite." Vonon says with a grin, tossing the tidbit into his maw,

     "Cassandra's Belt is one of the denser belts, plenty of places I could have gone to avoid the folks here at Rockport." he says while chewing his food, "But I was disillusioned at how little the folks around here cared about the corruption I'd exposed--and yes, it was also dawning on me that said corruption might indeed have been more the minor types, which nobody seemed to care about, but there was a lot of it!"

     Vonon just shrugged, "I just wanted to get away.  I had some money saved, and when I was a pup I'd had a short-term dream of being a Merchant Prince, wheeling-and-dealing across the stars, so I thought I'd pursue that.  That brought me to Planet Grendle--an Ocean World."

     "The only life I'd known was living on ships and asteroid bases, and while we have a pretty good Tech-Thirteen lifestyle here, we have to import it.  We have to import almost everything."  Vonon paused to take a sip from his drink, and pointed at the plate of appetizers with his free hand.

     "Ninety percent of the meat and vegetable matter here is vat-grown." Vonon says, as he puts down his drink, "We just don't have the space or energy for greenhouses--of any kind!  Hydroponic, aeroponic, or old fashioned dirt gardening, it all takes too long or too much energy or too much space."  Again Vonon shrugs, "Nothing wrong with vat-grown, it's real, at least, being cloned from sample cells of the real product.  Not like that goop that food synthesizers produce--using chemicals, yeasts and artificial flavors, all heat-pressed into a generic patty."

     "I went to Grendle because I thought an Ocean World--besides being something I'd never seen before--might have unique trade items to offer.  Maybe different foods, rare liquors, even exotic water.  As I've said many times, people who grow up in artificially maintained environments--even when those environments try to replicate more natural locals, like the Parks, here on Rockport--people who live in closed environments go crazy for anything that really is 'natural'.  The water here is eternally processed and reprocessed, it tastes flat and lifeless.  But natural water, that is an exotic beverage around here."

"If waters so exotic, how come your drinking alcohol?" Sam said with a smirk "You can get that anywhere. Hell I even tried making it once on a ship. Tasted like crap, got me drunk though. And sick. So sick I missed a duty and ended up getting extras. Can't really say it was worth it, to be honest. Still when your young..." She shrugged and sat back a bit

"So where would be a good place to get some fancy non-vat grown food around here? if thats possible?"

Sharik smirked slightly at Inderpal's answers.  She typed a quick message highlighting the young diplomat's skill set and attached the limited documentation that she had on her friend (including any resume that Indy might have blasted over to her -she'd been quite serious about that part) in a comm blast to both the Captain and the Executive Officer of the Longshot with a final statement/interrogative '++Looking for working passage off-world (comms officer), long-term potential (broker?).++</'  Shar figured that the former would pique Vonon's interest and the latter Sir Walter's.

She also noted in her message that she'd bring Inderpal to the crew dinner to make more formal introductions.

With all the corporate business taken care of, the diminutive astrogator polished off the rest of her pasta plate while chatting idly about whatever passed for gossip on station.  Then she moved on to dessert where a quick, sanitized version of the past couple of months came out - with no mention of any illegal psi experimentation or alien gravitic drive anomalies were mentioned.  And only a passing reference to the Baroness Elgin was made as any current litigation or political ramifications were still yet to be seen (though Sharik did note that perhaps Inderpal could offer some counsel, potentially).  Still, given her ability to weave a story and interject it voices and side quests, the auburn-haired socialite made it entertaining enough, which was her primary goal.

Dabbing the corner of her mouth with her napkin, Shar's expression brightened.  With the bill paid, it was time to move on.  "Who's up for some retail therapy?" she prompted, tanking the last of the liquid in her champagne flute while tossing her napkin on the table.  Now seemed like as good a time as any for finding some fairly mundane items - especially now that she come into a little more liquid cash.  There were some varied and sundry items as well as a few program updates that she figured might be useful.

"I wouldn't mind that", Inderpal lied, as she gently placed her own napkin on the table, finished her drink and got up from her seat, "Any particular place in mind? I know this quite well".

Which is why she'd gotten bored of it. There were only so many clothing and perfume shops you could visit before you get utterly, utterly bored.

She moved towards the bathrooms.

"Just let me converse with Lady Porcelain first. I'll meet you outside."