Florence seemed to consider the question for a moment. After a few seconds, she shook her head. “I don't think you can.” She seemed to hesitate before finally adding. “There are too many things that I consider wrong with the ship for me to be comfortable here. Things that, as it has been made clear, I can't even begin to change.”

She sighed. “Which is a bit sad really, but…” She snorted. “Well, since no one wants to hear my opinion… Hell, no one considers I can have one, or assumes I can't do anything right to the point that the last time I talked I was accused of betraying a secret that wasn't even one. For the record and in case it matters in the future, even young people, even someone who never served aboard a ship has things to offer and can be someone you can count on. Automatically assuming the opposite isn't a great strategy.”

After a slight pause, she shrugged. “Not that what I say now matters all that much I guess.” She looked around, obviously melancholic. “And I hope I'm wrong, but…” She shook her head.

"Hmmmm, too bad, you would have been a real asset, that I know. I never had a problem listening to an opinion by the way, doesn't mean I have to agree with you on everything. We'll see how the captain does, he may not have long to prove himself."

“The problem wasn't that you didn't listen. And I didn't expect everyone to agree to whatever I say.” Florence shrugged. “Not that I like it, but it's pretty normal. That's not the problem.”

She frowned. “Maybe it was indeed too soon.”

Horace frowned, "Too soon to try it? I think you're doing fine, as is Nique. I've learned plenty from both of you already."

The pause at the station is brief, enough to settle things with Marlo. Their destination is Mission San Lorenzo, a small town on the "Rain Coast" of St. Brendan.  From here, it is the far side of the planet.

St. Brendan is drier than Earth, with almost all of its land being in the great continent that covers most of the Northern Hemisphere.  Much of it is very dry, very harsh desert.  But planets are enormous, diverse places.  Along one stretch of the continent, the coast runs east-west, south of the equator.  There is a current in the ocean to the south that brings cold water up from the south pole.  North of this coast is the planet's highest mountain range.  The arrangement brings cold moist air up from the south, and traps it against these equatorial mountains.  The result is rain, and a very wet climate, with rain almost daily, despite the planet being dry overall.

If it was a planet with a well developed biosphere it would be thick forest, but here there is only mile after mile of slimy blue green muck.  The rain has carved into the land where it can, and after many years of this, the blue green carpet is actually a forest of a sort- but made of pillow like lumps of slippery squish sitting atop little mounds of stone, some as big as cars, separated by the rivulets and streamlets of rainwater.

Where the rain fed streams meet they form rivers, and these form larger river.  San Lorenzo lies close to one which joins four others in a large bay, like fingers on a glove.  The little town here has no navigational equipment of its own, and of course it's cloudy, it usually is, so the pilot will have to land using the radar image of the terrain, and then visual when closer in. But not to worry, that's how Neil Armstrong set down on the moon.  Pilots have been doing this for a long time now.

This wouldn't work where the water was more crowded, such as near a more populated area.  But human settlement is thin, here.  There is plenty of room in the bay in which to set down a starship.

You wouldn't be able to see the town of San Lorenzo itself until on final approach, down out of the cloud deck.

“To soon in the formation of the crew for me to come.” Florence shook her head. “It's not a problem of learning or not, but of both you and Einar not having the time to learn your new roles and settle down, before someone who didn't fit nicely like me came along.” The girl lifted a shoulder. “Maybe that way you'll have the time for it, and make the mistakes that come with it, without someone getting pissed off.”

As the ship flew to San Lorenzo, Florence appeared absorbed by what she saw on the screens, not paying attention to anything else. Or maybe she was simply staring blindly while puzzling over something else. Though since there wasn't anything she was supposed to be doing at that point, it probably didn't matter which it was.

 As usual, Regie seemed to come out of thin air,as was his habit on the ship. He leaned against the bulkhead,as he listened to the conversation." I think you should leave the crew Florence. If you are that thin skinned, then I don't think you could handle certain situations that might crop up, on board."

Florence turned towards Reginald. "Thin-skinned." She seemed to taste the word, or maybe wanted to be sure she had heard right. She didn't bother answering with more than a "Woh." though.

What would be the point? One, nothing had changed her mind, and two if not wanting to be involved in the way things were handled on the Albatros was being "thin-skinned", she was fine with it. Plus, she didnt know what other situations Reginald was thinking about, but she was pretty sure she didn't want to.

And if he still thought her problem was that they hadn't agreed with her, there was even less of a point: she had already said that multiple times. If he didn't believe her, she didn't need to repeat herself once again. Assuming he even tried to understand what she was saying, which she didn't believe. From Horace, sure. The others, not so much.

So instead, she simply shook her head and turned back to the screens.

   Dominiq kept herself busy during the voyage to St. Brendan - there was more than enough to do aboard the ship to keep a girl occupied, after all. Whether it was watching screens on the bridge, taking notes as Horace explained some of the rules of how to be a good broker, or even keeping the workspaces clean and neat, Shabazz kept busy regardless. As a result, most of the first evenings were spent recovering from the day's events and reviewing notes before falling into bed and sleeping like a rock.

   On their journey, she'd also taken time to note the interactions between her fellow crew members. One thing that she'd learned as a musician was to read people past their first impressions in order to get a sense of who she could deal with and who needed to be kept at a distance. She'd met all kinds in the years that she'd been a part of the music scene and considered herself a reasonable judge of character, but she could sense that there was tension in the air around Pearce, Gain, and Captain Karvonen. She didn't understand the dynamics of what was going on between them all, but she kept out of any interaction between the trio when it arose. She might be crew, but there were just some things that one didn't get involved with.

   The only thing she kept a wide berth away from was the Crosser, Marlo. Everyone else seemed to have no difficulty with the alien, and Pearce had gone so far as to spend most of her time with it, but Dominiq did no such thing. She was polite, kept her answers and speech as neutral as she could, but outside of her official duties, she kept herself as far away as possible.

   While at the Station, she did take the time to have a look at the place where they were headed - Mission San Lorenzo. She'd frowned at the mention of the place is on the "Rain Coast", and thought she'd have to break out her wet-weather gear when they arrived there. With her chin resting on a platform made by her closed fists, she winced at the mention of the local terrain and wildlife. "Slimy little things ... and some not so little." had been her only comment about it all.

   "So when we're about to land," she asked Horace as they were about to leave the station and make their way to the planet, "How am I going to fit in all of this? If I'm supposed to be crew, there should be a spot where I'm going  to fit into the puzzle."

"Take comms on the bridge and deal with landing with the pilot. It'll keep you busy."

This is the sparsely settled back side of the planet.  There are a number of small towns and settlements, but the nearest town of any size is Fidelis, capital of the Rain Coast District, 2000 miles away to the west.  2500 miles past that is Caritas, capital of the West Coast district.  Planets like St. Brendan with one ocean and one landmass often have ambiguous geographical terms, “West Coast” here means that it is on the western side of the continent, it is the eastern shore of the sea.  The main settled area is across that sea… or across a dry and forbidding and very large continent, going in the other direction.

Global communications is handled by a satellites, but they are of the lower power type and communications cuts out as the ship passes through the upper atmosphere.  This is normal here- communications comes back on as the ship gets lower.

Florence looks up information on local transport here.  It’s not well developed.  The planet has a single airline with exactly four long range aircraft, Skyline St. Brendan, but it doesn’t get to Mission San Lorenzo.  Skyline connects the main city of Port Grace with Fidelis, but that’s it.  Shorter range aircraft can’t get here from Fidelis.  Florence learns that there are high speed ocean ferries, but the trip to Fidelis takes two days, with stops along the way.

Out here there is no one controlling flights.  They are too rare.  Once the orbital station gives clearance for a ship, if they are not headed for one of the larger settlements they are on their own.  Scrolling through the communications stations in the area as the ship re-enters the communications zone, you can see that there is a local security and safety office in Mission San Lorenzo that is continuously manned.  You could contact them and notify them that you are arriving, though it is not actually required.

 Reggie did nothing more then raise an eyebrow.  But then looked out of the view screen to enjoy the landing.

While the situation wasn't as good as she would have hoped, it was also far from what she was afraid of so Florence was mostly satisfied. Plus, two days on a ferry could be fun, right?

Satisfied, she finished preparing the documents to remove herself from the crew and give Horace his share back: she had never felt too good about it, so she was certainly not going to hold to it now that she was leaving, one million or not. All that remained was for her to send everything to Einar and Horace which she was going to do as soon as the cargo was delivered. Well, unless they wanted to get rid of her even before that of course but she wasn't going to do less than she had said she would.

Then, as soon as everything was wrapped up - and she had her month's salary - she'd be out of the ship and out of their way which would be to everyone's relief. Thinking about that she smirked: that was at least something everyone was going to agree about!

When the ship touched down on the water Horace was strapped in tight, if they were going to be landing in water all the time, he needed to learn to swim.

   Dominiq settled into her chair at the communications console and worked things as best she could. She was more comfortable with a sound mixer than a linguistic translator, but she attempted to manage as best she could. After she'd settled herself into her seat and followed Horace's lead in securing herself, she'd thanked the Port Loretta terminal after they'd been given clearance, then turned her attention to where they'd be landing - Mission San Lorenzo.

   The lack of stations and aerospace control assets in the region made Shabazz shake her head. "Be largely on our own once we land," she muttered to no one in particular and glanced in the direction of Reggie, who seemed to be enjoying the view from where he was.

   After she'd found the frequency for the Mission's security office, she stabbed a finger on the button to open communications. "Mission San Lorenzo, this is the Free Trader Albatross," She called, using a firm and even tone. "We're on approach vector to your position. If there is a designated landing point, please advise and instruct us on how to reach it."

San Lorenzo bay did look like a hand, sort of, extending northward from the sea.  Mission San Lorenzo was positioned along the index favor.  Less than eight thousand people lived in the town, though if one included all the smaller settlements around the bay the total coming under Mission San Lorenzo's watch was over 20,000.  By Human standards a nearly inconsequential town.  There were buildings with more people.

Most of Mission San Lorenzo was built along a single road paralleling the shore.  In the approximate middle was the Security and Safety office, sharing a building with administrative offices and a communications center.  The tower was the most prominent structure in the town. Someone was always listening there, mostly, for any calls for help.  Aircraft landings were rare.  Spacecraft...  Dominique's hail caught them quite by surprise.

After an initial excited confirmation greetings, the young voice on the radio was replaced by an older one.

There's a quick check to make sure there are no boats where the Albatross will set down, and then the ship is directed in, and directed up to the Mission San Lorenzo docks, which are simple sand and block quays. Once again the ship touches down, and there is the feeling of gentle rocking afterwards, something spacers who are used to other kinds of landings might have to get used to.

The voices at the Mission San Lorenzo Safety and Security office certainly sound excited about the ships's arrival.  Apparently, they do not keep it a secret, because even as the ship heads for the dock, you can see ahead that people are quickly gathering.   It seems the arrival of a starship is something of an Event.

Florence grumbled under her breath. Given the way the cargo had been prepared, unloading wouldn't be all that hard - it would mostly be about getting the vehicles out of the hold - but making sure that everything went to the right place would be a bit harder. Thankfully, that wasn't her problem to deal with.

Pretty much all she'd have to do would be to hand over the documents to security and those who came to claim the cargo and answer any questions they might have. Or at least be there to answer questions if needed, but Einar would probably want to do it himself. Not that it mattered too much anyway.

   At the excited greetings from the young voice, Dominiq smiled softly to herself. It reminded her of when she toured post-release, and her music started making 'bank', as she'd heard it called. Parties, schmoozing with the local movers and shakers, and publicity events had always left her drained at the end. From a quick dark-eyed scan outside, she noted the people gathering around the front of the ship.

   "The locals are looking forward to meeting us, at least," she remarked after she'd closed the channel with the Safety & Security office. After a brief glance in the direction of where the crowd was gathering, she added, "Not as flashy as some of the places I've been to, but looks like we'll be a popular bunch once I meet them."

   She turned in her chair slightly and addressed the rest of the crew gathered on the Bridge. "Any plans on what we should do about the locals?"

"Give them their cargo is my suggestion, then ask if anyone wants to leave."

  "I'll leave the cargo details to you, Mr Wymp," she nodded in his direction and spoke semi-formally, in respect to the man's position. At his mention of asking if anyone wished to leave, brown eyes darted to the airlock door. Briefly reminded of the redheaded Pearce and her vocal wish to depart the Albatross, she also remembered the woman spending most of her time with the alien, Marlo until de-boarding at Port Loretta. Dominiq wondered a moment why Pearce hadn't departed along with - spending more time together could give her more time to interact and study its ways - but she'd stayed aboard until the ship had landed here at San Lorenzo ...

   "Sorry, momentarily distracted," Shabazz's lips thinned as she took in a long breath and let it out slowly. She returned her attention to the window and took another look towards the gathering throng. "Considering how much different 'spacer' life is from working a farm or fishing off a boat, doan' be surprised if more than a few ask to leave. Do we have any way of vetting anyone who comes aboard?"

"Hmmm, how thick is their wallet?" he said with a smile.

He readied to offload the cargo, Florence had the paperwork.

Florence didn't really believe they'd have a lot of takers as far as passengers went, but didn't share her opinion: what happened to the ship past this delivery wasn't her problem anymore. As she had promised, she'd stay until the job here was done, but that was all.

To that effect, she shared some of the documents she had prepared: one was for local security and was a custom's form declaring everything in the cargohold - and the crew - but omitting any personal details. The other was a much more detailed list, aimed at whoever was to receive something from the cargohold so that they could come fetch their possessions.

She considered for a moment mentioning that getting some security around to insure a safe delivery wouldn't go amiss, but that not being her job, she kept her mouth shut. She didn't want to get into another arguments mere moments before she left the ship.

"Miss Pearce, are you ready to deliver the cargo to the proper people? I assume you are because you're always prepared. Check their credentials good so whoever that is supposed to receive gets their cargo."

Colonies can be classified in many ways- by age, or environment, or economy.  Or by by how the population answers the question "why are you here?"  This last one is bound to produce interesting answers in the less desirable colonies, where the colonist is certain to miss out on so many of the pleasures of life one could find in modern cities, even of the less prosperous kind.  No one had to go to Mission San Lorenzo.  And it's such a young place, everyone coming here knew they would be at the very beginning, doing the hardest work of taming a planet.

Who does something like that?  Especially now, with so many planets tamed.  Earth isn't crowded anymore.  No place is crowded.  And aliens aren't insisting that Humans move into space, like they did once.  That job is done.

Three kinds of people, really.

There are those that see it as an investment.  Get in at the very start, get some land, get a business going when a colony is tiny.  One day, if it has grown large, you might be rich.

There are those that love the adventure.  It is something of a rush, to build and create where no one has ever built or created.

And there are the believers, driven by the promise of the place.

Mission San Lorenzo is young, and harsh, and the people here are mostly in the Believer category.  Here because the they think a small, remote, tightly knit, and religiously observant settlement is the place they ought to be.

Possibly because it is so remote, the arrival of the Albatross is a really big deal.  The crowd assembles so quickly and so spontaneously you'd think the crew was giving away prizes.  And it is growing by the minute.  Apparently, "a starship landed in the water" is enough of an excuse to leave almost any job.

According to the documentation you have, the cargo is to be delivered to the Works Director at Mission San Lorenzo, one Mr. Kurtiss Ferro.

But there are a lot of people swarming around the dock.  No one is holding an I am Kurtiss Ferro sign.  It seems the excited rush got here ahead of the formal welcome.

Looking at the screens, Florence grimaced. “Everything goes to the same person: Kurtis Ferro, Works Director.”

After a second, the girl added. “We should probably call him and ask how he wants to proceed. He'll need to come in person to sign the documents anyway. And get him, or someone, to send some security people: someone could get hurt in that crowd…” Not that this was her job at all, but at this point… “And maybe don't finish the approach to the dock until security is here…”
This message was last edited by the player at 02:37, Fri 21 Feb 2020.