For most people, the transports of the Living Fleet are a death sentence.  The ramshackle buckets are little more than scrap metal welded to engines, constantly leaking air into the entropic void that surrounds them.  Their sole purpose is to die for the Last Refuge, ablative armor populated by losers and desperadoes.

They're not exactly wrong, but anyone who called one of Allison Al-Sayegh's crew a loser would be in for a very painful explanation about how, in her many, many eyes, they were actually heroes.  Then they'd get a very painful explanation about how her eyes were the only ones that mattered.

Life aboard the Trapdoor and the rest of Spiderweb's privateer fleet- the Golden Hind and the Paddy Wagon- is rough-and-tumble and hard.  But it's satisfying.  She pays well, they're entertained well on their off-hours, and anyone who wants a cushier job in the rest of the fleet often gets a glowing recommendation.  Everybody truly deserves it; there are no lollygaggers on her crew.  Though nobody in her lean, hungry crew could be truly called content, there's a certain satisfaction in their employment.  As a whole they feel like their hardscrabble life has a purpose, and that's more than most have.

It also helps ameliorate what the captain of the Paddy Wagon calls the 'troubles'- the times when Spiderweb gets a 'fukkin' bug up her ass about somethin' again'.  Spiderweb's avarice and aggression are legendary, and they almost always mean an even tougher time ahead.  On the bright side, they're also pretty lucrative.

"Alright, ya scraps,"  Captain Murphy addresses Arkady and fifteen others of the Paddy Wagon's crew, "The Troubles are startin' again, so ya know what that means.  We've got a new target and Spiderweb wants to collect.  I won't bother yar tiny skulls with the specifics this time, but we've gone and lucked out.  The Golden Hind's spotted a Bataan-class frigate off of some asteroids in a nearby sector.  Normally we'd just crush it up, real good yah, but this time we've decided we want it whole and complete.  I don't know if ya've all been paying attention but the Fleet's just captured a whole flagship, and I guess they want to complete the set!  So here's what we're doing.  The Golden Hind will be doin the busy work as usual, zapping it up good and disabling it.  Trapdoor will be runnin' jammin' and countermeasures.  We need to get on board, disable the comms, disable the weapons, and then bring it back home."

Captain Murphy scans the crowd of scrappers,

"Of course this is dangerous as all sin, it is.  So that's the usual.  But here's another tidbit.  Spiderweb's offerin' a bounty."

This gets the scrappers muttering.  A bounty?  That almost never happens.  Spiderweb apportions out cash and goods and services according to rank.  Everyone does their job, no heroic stuff.  That's what keeps them alive.

"Yeah, I know.  A bounty.  When we disable the frigate, there'll probably be a bunch of Neverborn fighters hooked up.  Now we're not talkin' the ciggies, we're talkin' the real deal.  We'll need people to go in, hotwire them, and maybe take them out for a spin while we hook up the Paddy Wagon onto the frigate for tugboat time.  That way if we're ambushed we can blast our way out.  So ya get to be pilots for a day and get paid good for it!"

More muttering.  Most people don't like that idea at all.  Pilots already have a low life expectancy, but piloting a Neverborn fighter?

"Anyway, that's the unusual.  Remember, everythin's hostile in frigate, so that's the usual.  Squad leaders, make sure everyone's loaded with rocksalt shotguns.  Watch yar fire, watch each other's backs.  Remember that if ya have to die, do it like a madman.  Questions?"

Arkady snaps his fingers sounding off a metallic clang.

"So we board a hostile ship, not really knowing what awaits us there, fuck their shit up, steal their fighters, fuck more shit up, and come back for a drink huh?"

He looks around the crew quickly to see if anyone wishes to add anything and continues:

"So the big guys are gonna watch our backs while we engies do wire pulling and then we have a little test-drive with fighters we've never had the chance to inspect in person crewed by dudes of which most haven't even driven one of our jets. Blyat. Sounds pretty awesome to be honest."

Arkady looks around again looking for reactions from the crew and crosses his arms on his chest in desperate attempt to hide his nervous tic.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:46, Fri 27 Jan 2017.

The rest of the crew looks back and forth and mutter.  One of them- his squadmate Cycles Blyte- raises his own voice.  "This'll be just the Buchenwald!  What, are we just cannon fodder now, like in the bad old days?"

"Relax, Mr. Cycles.  It's just a frigate,"  Their captain shakes his head, "It'll be crewed by ghosts but it's nothin we haven't dealt with before!  Pour the salt on the floor to cordon off cleared areas, advance, if it looks bad retreat behind the salt wall.  The hell's wrong with you!"

He points at Arkady,

"Better than that!  Spiderweb's not gonna be jackin off inside the Trapdoor like usual.  She's goin to be joinin the boarding party with the rest of us, Mr. Arkady.  That means you run across somethin that would fry you?  Call the big boss!  That's her job!  Also..."

He kicks open a crate by his feet,

"She's supplied us all with good luck charms, just for the occasion.  Ours to keep, up front.  One of these buys you a full fuckin week with a midrange Neomah courtesan on Last Refuge!  So shut your blabberhole!  She's takin a personal interest in this one, and that means none of us are goin wantin!"

Arkady glances in Cycles's direction as he rants but Captain Murphy's words seem to clear his doubts and a confident grin sets on his face.

"Spiderweb's joining us? Ha! This's going to be a cake walk, I tell you! She's taken care of our sorry asses for a long time and she's the last person to set us off as cannon fodder and if she has personal interest on that dead-shit tin can, there oughta be some grade-A tech inside, and I sure as hell want a piece of that cake!"

Arkady points his thumb in the direction of the open crate and continues with a friendly smug on his face:

"And if you don't want to come Cycles I call dibs on your share too! Ha! I'll put it to good use, I swear! Booze and Bitches! Hahahaha!"
This message was last edited by the player at 23:47, Fri 27 Jan 2017.

"Man, fuck you, you Russkie bastard,"  Cycles shoots back at him, "Don't you take my share, I'll be on there just like the rest of you!  Just I won't like it!"

"Man, everyone's so wound up,"  A random crewmember drawls. "Chill the hell out."

"Man fuck you," Cycles shoots back at him.

"ALL OF YOU SHUT UP,"  Captain Murphy's voice rings out.  He's got a hell of a pair of vocal cords- probably the only reason he's the captain of the Paddy Wagon.  "Buncha pansies!  Now listen, you should head over to the quartermaster while you still can and get all that extra shit I know you boys and girls love to tote around.  Quartermaster's got some new knives, silencers, the whole works.  And, apparently, he's not even gonna mark it up that much this time!"

Some of the crew start to pile out of the room, rushing from the meeting room to queue up at the quartermaster's to get the normal shit:  lug-mounted bayonets, salt grenades, lucky wrenches, bandages, unguents, elixirs, alchemic fire sticks, mini-vodka bottles...

Only a few stay behind, notably the Captain, who looks pretty pleased with himself.  "And you, Mr. Arkady- no more crossin wires that shouldn't be crossed because you've decided you like the way they taste or whatever it is you Russian bastards do.  And, more importantly, I've decided it's high time you joined high society.  You're goin to be leadin a crew this time around."

Arkady's smug expression fades the as captain lectures him and is replaced with genuine surprise when leading a crew is mentioned.

"Underst... Wait... Really? I-I mean yes captain! I will not disappoint you!

Arkady's slouching pose straightens like someone had shoved an iron bar up his ass. He performs a quick salute, almost hitting his metal hand on his forehead and a bit calmer, though still a bit dazed, he continues:

"What are your orders, Captain?"
This message was last edited by the player at 23:49, Fri 27 Jan 2017.

"I'm sure you will disappoint me, you Russkie bastard, that's why I'm givin you the rope to hang yourself with.  And stop salutin'!  Makes my head ache thinkin about you smackin your forehead with those big metal fingers."

He pauses and pushes the crate over to Arkady.

"Peaceful disbursement of these, for starters.  After that- you're a fair bit more competent than most with the boardin tactics and you're a good engie, so your job will be headin for the engine rooms and shuttin them down."

Bad news for him.  Usually 'hall sanitation' is the best job, cleaning out a section of a ship's hall and making sure it's ghost-free, then inching through the place bit by bit.  Usually there isn't much, and when there is, you can duck back behind the salt you'd just laid.  The most dangerous job is working on the bridge; the second most dangerous job is the engine room.  The former usually has the most enemy presence, and the latter has slightly less enemy presence AND the possibility of a reactor going nova.

The actual boarding of actual Abyssal ships is rare, and so the danger here is even worse.

"Which also means you're functionally Spiderweb's right hand on this one.  Congrats.  Had to choose someone from the boarders so you're it."

Arkady's expression delivers the perfect example of how a person looks when he thinks "Aww shit I fucking knew it" as he lowers his arm. one could think he said something in Russian under his breath. Probably something not nice.

He raises his head afterwards and gives the captain a grinning smile.

"Oh you can keep the rope cap. If I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die drunk as fuck and raving mad like the crazy Russian bastard I am. That's what I was told to do, That's how it would go, And I'm not plannin' on pussying out like a bitch."

He looks at the contents of the crate and shifts quickly on the contents of the crate, until his eyes set on a certain charm. Letting off a small grin, he picks it up and looks at it, holding it in between his fingers. A small red star.

((Spend 1 chivalrous joss "Walk with a merchant's eye"))

He carefully places the charm in one of his utility pockets and after making sure it's tightly shut he shouts out

"ALL RIGHT SCAVS! Come get your lucky charms in an ORDERLY AND POLITE FASHION! No pushing, cutting the line or assing around or I'm gonna give you a high five, IN THE FACE BLYAT!" clapping his hads together to gain the crews attention and to emphasize that they would not enjoy a "high five in the face".

He puts his leg on the edge of the crate in a bold fashion and looks at the captain again with a smug grin.

"Oppa blyat cap, I really wanna see you face when I ace this shit. I won't fucking let you, or Spiderweb , to be disappointed, I tell you."

"Drunk as fuck and ravin' mad?  Isn't that your normal Russian's state?"  The Captain shakes his head as Arkady rifles through the crate, picking through the charms.  "A goddamn soviet star, where the hell did the Miss find that?  And knowin you, the God(dess) of Prostitution herself craves that fukkin thing."

The scavengers are torn in half- some of them desperately want to grab their share from the quartermaster, some desperately want the charms.  This split is pretty much based on how far they are from the Quartermaster's front office.  Several surge right towards him.

"You fukkin have fun, boyo," The captain slaps Arkady's shoulder, "I'll be watchin from here with some good ol whiskey in one hand and a cigar in the other.  You fuck up too good and we blow the ship, so don't fuck up, hey?"

Either Arkady has a reputation or they're worried about the captain.  They form a pretty orderly line- by scav standards- and wait for him impatiently to start doling them out.  Third in line is a well-known scavenger, a seasoned boarder named Jonesy.  Jonesy gives Arkady a broad grin- missing a tooth after a fight last week with that pigfucker Darlongi- and a wink. "Hey Ark,"  She calls out to him sing-song, "Throw me a good one, eh?"

"Fuck you, Jonesy Q, you wait in line like the rest of us!" The first in the line spits back at her.

Mechanically, this is a special Bad Fortune Talisman.  It cancels out 2 points of Malicious joss.  As a special bonus, this particular one also allows you to reroll any Lake roll in lieu of canceling out MalJoss.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:05, Tue 31 Jan 2017.

Arkady grins at the captain and waves his hand in a relaxed manner then he notices Jonesy hollering at him.

"Yo Jonesy! Just a second!"

He quickly dishes out two charms for the first two in line and waves them to scurry off.

"I really tried to shuffle through the crate but I couldn't find a tooth for you but you get the second best thing, you get to take a pick! Be quick about it though, Cap'n wouldn't like me playing favorites."

He opens his hands for a generous gesture with a wide grin and picks up a small flask from one of his pockets subtly, takes a quick look around and takes a sip of something that smells like strong alcohol but doesn't smell like it is meant to be drunk and offers to Jonesy.

"Did the cap'n assign you a task for this gig? I get lead a crew, which is cool. The fact that I get the engine room... Well shit... at least it's not the bridge. I could use a decent shooter to check my back since I'm a shitty shot myself."

Arkady takes a quick look at the line for the Quartermasters office, pulls down his hood and scratches his head quickly with a slightly concerned look.

"...And if those greedy fuckers in that line hog all the best tools and calibration equipment I'm gonna be really fuckin' pissed."

Jonesy hurries over to his side after taking her charm- she's not the best at picking things out, not like Arky.  The captain leaves them be, thank the Gods, so as soon as she's got one she sidles over next to Arky with a conspiratorial nod, watching the line go by.

"Nah, I didn't.  Fact is, I think you stole my spot.  If'n ya didn't, then I'm up with Spiderweb herself."  She looks over at the other queue, "Tell you the truth, I'd not like to be in your shoes right now, but I'd like to be on the bridge less.  You hear about what happened at the Buchenwald?  Everywhere those damn Exalts go, little ones die around them, know what I mean?"

She looks at her charm.  "I could get your back if they let me switch, of course.  Just like I could stand in line for you over there and get you- HEY YOU, ONLY ONE, LITTLE BITCH- what you need up front.  Course, that's only if you want it."

The guy who tried to pocket two tries to scurry away.

Arkady notices the guy and shuffles his pockets for something to throw at him. The weapon of choice appears to be a medium size bolt which he throws pretty much as hard as he can.

"DIDN'T HEAR ME THE FIRST TIME CYKA?!? WANT ANOTHER OF THESE TOO?!?

He angrily shakes his fist and flicks a finger to the guy and after a few more inappropriate words in russia he crouches down to a slav-squat and leans towards Jonesy and while still handing out the charms for the people in line he says in a calm quieter manner:

"Yeah I've heard about Buchenwald, And I'm kinda sorry if I stole your job but I didn't apply for it. Spiderweb and the captain decided it for me and I ain't gonna let them down. I really wanna wipe that fucking grin off captains face. But yeah... If I get a chance to pick my crew or have any word at all 'bout it, I'll put your name on the list."

He takes another sip off his canteen and slides it back to his pocket and continues with a bit more confident look on his face:

"I don't really know much about those Exalts but I do know that having even one with us really pumps-up our chances of survival like... Tenfold or something. I mean. With them someone always comes back to tell the tale, right? We still gotta watch our own backs and Spiderweb's too though. She's fucking badass but no-ones invincible."

The man takes the bolt to the forehead, drawing a loud muffled swear in a language Arkady doesn't recognize and a scurrying away.

"Eh, I ain't pissed at ya, Arky.  The Cap'n isn't either.  He must like you,"  She smirks at him, "Makin' kissy-faces at ya at night in his room, maybe.  Didn't know you were into that sort of thing, eh?" She laughs at him again, "Yeah, look, it improves our overall chances, but I don't want to be anywhere near her when the time comes.  We're just... armor or somethin' to exalts.  All ablative and shit.  So yeah, overall we improve a bit, but not everyone."

She spits on the bulkhead and watches with satisfaction as the spit sticks like glue.  Looks like she's been getting into dip again.

"I'll ask ya again though.  You want me to get in line for ya at the quartermaster?  Won't even ask too much from ya."

Arkady looks at the two lines shifting people. People come from the quartermasters to the his line and vice versa.

"Yeah. That'd be awesome. Otherwise I'd have to settle with the leftovers, and that stuff is in horrendous condition, I tell you. I'm stuck here until all of these are handed out."

He taps the edge of the crate and continues handing it's contents to the crew in line.

"Just ask the Quatermaster to reserve some better quality mechanical tools and calibration equipment and some other nick-nacks. Tell him that if he hands me mis-alligned calibration tools or some shit the reactor's sure to go boom. Oh! And I need some of those mini vodka bottles. They're 'Mission critical'. I owe you Jonesy."

Arkady winks with a self-assured smile on his face.

"Yah you do.  You owe me a lot more than you think, thank you very much," She winks back, "Alright, calibrators, tools, vodka, I'm gonna get ya some extra WD-40, and maybe some new gloves.  On the house."

She tosses her charm up in the air, "I'm feelin' lucky tonight, aren't you?"

She saunters off.  Huh, good ol'Jonesy.  Body like a ruler and face as plain as day.  Still bever afraid to lay it on thick when she thinks she can get something out of it- but at least she's not malicious about it like some other people on the ship.

Passing out the charms takes a while, especially when he has to whip out the steel baton on one enterprising bastard who thinks he's got what it takes to grab a shitton of them and then run.  One of his mates, Dragunov the Dragon, ends up having to help him put the boots to the scavenger while Arky goes back to handing out the charms properly.

Eventually Jonesy comes back with the things he's requested- plus a brand 'new' refurbished M1911, chrome, with a bunch of engravings in some Christian style mixed with a few of the more pagan ones.  She hands it to him with great ceremony.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:09, Sat 04 Feb 2017.

"Thanks for the stuff Jone.." He stops mid-sentece as he sees the pistol Jonesy is offering- "Holy sweet mother of jesus blyat- I mean, What a beauty!!! Hell! Where the hell did you get this?? I don't even wanna ask how!"

He gently picks up the pistol and exited like a little kid on christmas morning he removes the magazine, racks the slide a couple of times to see if everything's working smoothly, tries the safety a couple of times and finally aims down the sights a couple of times before re-inserting the magazine. Regardless of his metal arms he performs all of this with surprising dexterity.

"This must cost like an arm and a leg! Not that i'd have any arms to spare! Ha! Seriouly whaddidya do? Blackmail the quartermaster or something? This beautifull piece looks like it shoots bullets smelted from the Vatican cross or some shit! Thank you Jonesy! I don't have any idea on how I can repay you! Thank you!"

"Remember Reese?"

Yeah, Reese- a scrap collector, pretty as a picture and nuttier than a squirrel in peanut butter.  He was renowned for being able to find high-quality metal and operated his own forge (and still) in his cabin... which he built himself, welded to the outside of the Trapdoor.  He took an angry blood-ape to the face during a routine scrap-up with some rivals over a broken Mercury transport a few months back.

"Turns out he was tryin his hand at armory.  He'd been replacin that for at least three years.  Did all the engravin himself.  He left the gun to me, but I've been lettin the quartermaster borrow it.  Thing's extra lucky."

"Bloody fuckin 'ell... he must have needed some convincing to give this up.

He glances the weapon once more before before tucking it into a pocket on his belt that was apparently meant for a tool of sorts, a rivet gun probably, and secures the pocket with a worn strap. With a cunning smile on his face he looks Jonesy in the eyes.

"It must be extra lucky for you to I guess. What would you have me do? Nothin's free, especially on this barge. Wanna discuss the details by a quick drink before we all die in a rector nova?"

He opens his fist in front of his face and with a "poof" he lets a short laugh.

"Well, Reese is dead, and the Quartermaster knows it's already mine, so if he was gonna try to steal it I was gonna cut his throat one day during dinner."</b>  Jonesy gives him her gap-toothed smile, "It's real simple.  You haven't figured it out yet, have you, boyo?  You are being tapped to command.  That's how the captain got his place, I was one of the first there.  Betcha didn't know that."

She stretches her hands over her head.

"Everyone knows Spiderweb's got another transport in the makin'.  So she'll need someone to command.  And that thing will be a rusty piece of shit first trip out.  So they'll need a captain who knows what he's doin.  Guess what THAT means.  So this here's a test."

She leans over to him, face only a few centimeters away.  "Yeah, let's go get a drink and talk about what I want."

The bar is, predictably, the center of the ship- literally.  In this particular hunk of junk they actually moved the reactor a bit aft, supposedly to "minimize explosive output" but in reality because the Captain wanted a bar only a little jog away from anywhere.

The Ship's Bartender is, in all actuality, #3 on the ship.  The Captain commands, the Second in Command is backup and basically sleep-shift captain, and the Bartender can best be described as the morale officer.

Thad "Plato" Spanikopitapolous probably only gets three hours of sleep a night and gets by on drinks made of pure powdered caffeine, coffee grounds, and pure grit.  His bar, the Cave, is less a bar than it is a vodka and whiskey dispensary.  He sighs as Jonesy leads Arkady practically in by the hand.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:47, Tue 07 Feb 2017.

"Privet Plato!" Arkady hollers. "Two glasses of vodka! I'll pay. You know I pay. I always pay! Ha! At least at some point." he taps the counter twice and the focuses his attention towards Jonesy.

"So.. Spiderweb's got a new ship comin' and you have interest in that. The cap is testing me if I'd be a good captain for that bucket, and you wanna piece of that cake, da?"

He gives slints his eyes a bit and continues.

"You want on that ship. Maybe you even want that ship? You don't seem comfortable near Spiderweb so you want some void and rusty steel between you and 'er?"

"I may want the ship but Spiderweb ain't stupid.  If she thinks you may be better and she gives it to you then she's right.  I ain't comfortable around the big boss, but that ain't why I want off.  You think there's any chance here for me, grubbin around with the Captain, makin sure he keeps eyein my ass and knowin I'll never get anywhere?  New ship, new life, you know the rules same as I do.  New chances.  I want taken on, given the chance to take a higher position.  You know as well as I do that Spiderweb keeps a tight hierarchy on most her ships.  Can't compete with the guys ahead of me."

Plato pushes two glasses of cloudy vodka in cloudier glass 'cups' made of broken and sanded-down bottles.  He scowls at Arkady, "Yeah, you pay tonight, before you leave, got it?  If'n you're getting a ship, that means you'll never have to come here to pay."

Arkady waves his hand at the bartender an an assuring fashion and pick's up the glass, rises it, and takes a good sip. He doesn't down the entire thing at once. He wants to enjoy it.

"Cheers." he wipes his mouth at the edge of his hood and crosses his hands at the edge of the counter. "I kinda know what you mean. I wasn't planning on stayin' on this bucket for the rest of my days either, but Spiderweb was kind enough to take this invalid drag of a gopnik on board, so I'll pay her in kind I guess."

He reaches down his pockets for a small cigarette box, and not the good "real" kind. More like something meant to imitate a cigarette in absence of the actual stuff. He lights it with a gas-lighter, Inhales, and whilst leaning back a bit he blows out a cloud of smoke. after the smoke has dispersed a bit he looks at Jonesy under his hood, revealing a friendly smile.

"The captain is putting me to the test, It means I can also fail. Tell you what. If I pass and get the new tug, I'll pick you second in charge. If I fuck up, I get on your ship. I know I can fix things pretty well... But I've set my eyes on something new. I want to create something. I don't know what that is yet but it's gonna be awesome, I tell you. I can't do it here because the cap'n keeps me busy fixing shit like... all the time because" raising his voice a bit, looking behind him towards the entrance "SOME PEOPLE'S HANDS GROW OUT OF THEIR ASSES AND KEEP FUCKING SHIT UP!"

He turns back around and takes another sip, leaning against the counter.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:20, Fri 10 Feb 2017.

Enjoy it? Ugh, the damn stuff tastes terrible.  It hits his mouth like a freight train full of dead hobo steeped in toilet wine.  Vodka shouldn't even HAVE a taste.  Must be the engine oil and a bit of fire essence.

"What, you mean like Carl last week?  Decided to stuff his johnson in the oil port?  That's why we had the knock in the cylinder, you know," She tells him.  She's probably joking.  Probably.  On one hand, Carl would do that sort of shit.  On the other hand, she's never liked Carl.

"Fine, deal.  If I become Captain Jonesy, you become my First Mate.  We have a deal?"  She gives him her gap-toothed grin and extends a hand for him to shake.