"Of course just saying this is dooming us both,"  He says, an arm still thrown companionably around her shoulder.

Eventually they make it to the hangar, where the yacht is waiting.  The yacht is about five times the size of the Shofar, making it smaller than most of the transports.  She can see it's got a single turret atop and brackets for mounting a ship below it.

"This is the Lothlorien.  It's fully armed and armored," He explains to her, "We're trying to roll out more of these as replacements for using our transports.  So far we've had mixed results."

"This thing can jump with Shofar on it?" she asks, curiously. "Really not hating the design. Small, but efficient. Who's work is it?"

The arm on her shoulder feels nice, so she doesn't say much. He was probably just being nice to her because he'd heard she'd gone a bit crazy and didn't want her jeopardizing the mission. He was a pretty smart guy, really.

Then again, this wasn't totally out of character for him.

"Yeah, just like the Odysseus-pattern jumpships.  But the Odysseus can carry a lot more than the Lothlorien can, but we make up for it with better weapons and armor."

He walks up to the entrance ramp, patting the side.

"Shun Xiao helped design the engine, but the rest was a collaboration between myself and Spiderweb.  It's a lot more cobbled together than it looks.  Remember what you were saying about the Defiant shaking apart?"

The name makes her feel a lot better about the journey. Ignoring everything else, the engine was going to be something Jess could trust.

"It should hold together well enough. I suppose this'll be a good test run in addition to everything else. What's our ETA to the target?"

"Two and a half days, fast warp.  The downside is that the Last Refuge will be moving without us to another vent point.  So that means we'll have to play catchup.  If our engines fail or a vent point closes, we may very well be lost in space forever.  But don't worry, the universe wants us to win."

"I can live with that. Or die with it, I guess." she says matter-of-factly. "Just in case, do you think you could bring along some copies of that Star Trek show? I've heard enough about it by this point that I might as well watch it. You can explain stuff to me."

The loss of Journeys would be a terrible thing, but it was his decision, not hers, and these sorts of risks weren't unusual. The biggest concern was a disabled engine stranding them, but then, it was Shun Xiao's work, placing any chance of a fuck up squarely on her own two shoulders.

And he was right, the universe wasn't going to let her die yet.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:47, Wed 04 Jan 2017.

"Sure, I've got a whole shitton of them on a hard drive." He lets his arm fall from her shoulders then heads up the ramp, "Time you meet the rest of the crew, such that they are.  They're not my normal crew, since Tomato's out of commission, but so it goes."

Jess looks away from Journeys as a cold weight settles into her gut alongside the pill. "I'm glad she's taking proper time to heal up. Lunar or not, she went through a lot for all of us that fight."

Even with the horrible injuries, she had thought the Exalt would have been out by now. She really did hope it was just her getting the right amount of bedrest. That would make her smarter than Jess, certainly.

"She is... alright, right? I haven't spoken with her since after the battle." A little guilt creeps into her voice along with the concern. She had only just now messaged Pacifica, having been rather self-focused in her thoughts the last few weeks.

"Yeah, she'll be fine.  She's tough stuff!"  They enter the ship, into the airlock.  There's another room past with six flight suits hanging up.  "Really the big things to worry about are the stranger stuff than the simple physical.  If she were bleeding from the nose or speaking in tongues about the black goat of the wilds, then I'd be a bit more worried.  We'll miss her during this run, no lie, but she'd have made us a bit slower and she doesn't have the powerful oomph we need to take out potential cruisers."

Jess grunts at that, knowing it made good tactical sense, however unfortunate it was. "I suppose we can always bring her a souvenir."

She peers carefully as they enter the ship, doing her best to take in every detail. If worst came to worst, it would do to know where the holes most likely were. It was, at least, bigger than her room had been.

"That's the spirit.  If they're really aliens, though, she'll never forgive us."

The rest of the yacht looks like something straight out of Star Wars or Guardians of the Galaxy or Star Trek or something that starts and ends with Stars.  A living room, complete with couches and a TV; an armory; a cockpit; several bunkrooms.  Really it resembles Command's apartment more than anything else, probably because this is Journeys we're talking about.

Ah, yes, and the whole damn thing smells like weed.

"We've got another floor, too, but that's gonna be a lot more technical," He explains to her.  "A hangar airlock for you to access the Shofar, and a comms/systems room for Clara to monitor transmissions.  Also there's the rotating turret right above us.  Then again, don't all turrets rotate?  Why is it called that?"

"Fixed turrets are a thing. I think tank destroyers had them? You had to turn the whole vehicle to line up the shot." she says absentmindedly. "When you've got a real big gun, it's not a terrible idea to get rid of as many big parts as you can, especially if it's supposed to take hits. Granted, not being able to aim at anything that isn't in front of you is kind of cra-" Jess cuts herself off. "Sorry, you know all that. Just thinking out loud."

The weed didn't really bother her. She'd never really touched the stuff, but her shows commonly smelled like it. If anything, the scent tended to relax her, because it meant the Ecstatics were sticking (mostly) to less crazy drugs that particular night. Skunk wasn't the best smell in the world, but it beat the copper scent of an out of control mosh any day.

"Aliens, though... can't wait to explain our planet ended the universe. Take that, Lovecraft."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:34, Wed 11 Jan 2017.

"Guess you call castle towers turrets too, so good point.  Military history isn't my forte, so chat away."   He yawns and walks over to the couch, "Others should be here soon so hurry up and wait!  And hey.  If my cosmology's right and if aliens do exist, they probably fucked things up juuuuuust as hard, so they can't blame us."

"You'll have to explain the cosmology to me. In terms of fixed turrets versus rotating ones, I was just thinking that it's been so long since so many targets have been willing to sit still and get shot. From the Bundy to the Buchenwald, the market for simple, straightforward firepower has grown. Not that I'd prefer anything but a rotating turret on a craft as isolated as ours, extra moving parts or no."

Jess had been making a greater effort to think like this lately. She wasn't all that mechanically minded, but measuring benefit against drawback was the most basic sort of strategy.

"How about we be cynical hopefuls and expect alien ghosts? Intriguing, but just as, if not more dangerous than a cruiser"

"Well, long story short, our subconscious creates the cosmos.  The spiritual side, I mean.  We know the Neverborn came from very, very far away; maybe there were aliens who were just so nihilistic they spawned them."  He shrugs, "Alien ghosts may very well be possible, you know?"

"Bad thoughts making bad realities, huh? I admit I have always been fascinated by the idea of the reverse. Course we're going to need a lot more people for that, I'm sure."

Jess considers her plans on the matter. Encouraging widespread fornication was easy enough, but the resources to support those people would be the real issue. There was definitely enough space to house many more people than currently occupied the Last Refuge, but mass construction in Underdeck just wasn't that feasible. And then there was the fact that anyone growing and living in such accommodations would inevitably end up being lower class...

She shakes the thoughts out of her head, deciding to try and take whatever relaxation she could get for the moment.

"Most people are.  The Universe is a real thing for a reason.  It's what made the Incarnae and the Gods in the first place!  Belief shapes reality.  So alien belief may have made their own sort of thing.  I'm also convinced it's the only way out of this reality.  White Arcing Lightning can talk all she wants about finding the last remaining wyld zone and jetting out of here, but I have the feeling that it's not going to be... big enough for us."

"Well. That's a pleasant thought. You have any particular plans for manifesting destiny?" she says, in a voice implying she wasn't actively working towards similar goals. It wasn't a secret that both her and Red Queen were actively attracting worshipers, but she somehow doubted the other woman was planning precisely the same sort of spectacle.

"Use Lucifer's gun?"  He jokes about the Manifest Destiny, "No idea.  My job is only to get us there, girl.  It's up to you braniacs and dreamers to figure a way from there.  That's more, what, Secrets or Endings?  Not me.  You get me on the other side of that portal and I can start figuring things out from there, but I'm a wanderer, not a lockpick."

"Lockpick or battering ram, either works, I suppose."

It was all well and good to say, but the logistics of mobilizing humanity's collective belief were the largest problem. If she was going to speak to anyone about it, it would likely be Red Queen and that... just wasn't likely to be productive. She worried sometimes that the woman bought into her own publicity, so all Jess could do is get closer to the Infernals in general and hope reason would win out over pride.

"Endings and Secrets might be good to talk to. Someone recently told me I needed to spend less time locked in my own noggin. And yeah, I suppose getting us there is already hard enough."

"Well, of course.  If I could at any rate.  Secrets doesn't have any idea," He shrugs, "Hey man, don't we all?  We're all too stuck in our own heads.  We need to get out and relax."

A buzzer starts going off in the living room.

"Ah, hey, speak of the devil.  Sounds like the rest of the crew's finally here.  Sorry, I thought they'd already be here."

He introduces the four others.  Two are a long-haired husband-and-wife team, Nick and Amy Indigo, an elderly couple that look like they should be running a granola farm.  "We're the engineers,"  Amy tells her, "Specializing in jury-rigging!"

"Pleased to meet you," Nick shakes her hand.

The next is the co-pilot, Olorunyomi Ejimadu, a statuesquely beautiful Nigerian woman with hands covered in gold circuitry that Jess isn't quite sure is painted on or not.  "Just call me Olo," She says with a brilliant white smile, "I'm honored to meet you."  She doesn't try to shake hands.

The last is a scarred hunk of muscle and twitching reflexes.  His left eye is a gaping hole, his right arm marked from fingertip past the elbow and beyond his sleeve with deep burn scars.  He grunts at Jess. "Marco Polo,"  He introduces himself, "Earth Dragon, at your service."

"Nick and Amy." Jess repeats. "It's good to meet the both of you." she says, returning the man's handshake with a smile. "And good to hear. Just long enough is as long as we need it."

Weirdly, her mind flashes back to the twins. Jess doesn't let it touch her expression.

She doesn't make a point to shake the hands of either the Earth Dragon or the co-pilot, but does keep her smile fixed, providing the slightest bow of the head to the former in order to show respect without breaking her friendly disposition.

"Well Olo, I'm glad to meet the pilot Journeys trusts to sit beside him in the cockpit."

Finally, the dragon. She looks at him, trying to place his face and name before speaking.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 09:01, Sun 29 Jan 2017.

Ah, the twins- early casualties.  It's been a long time since their fate crossed her mind.  At least it was quick.  Yet another thing she owes the Gardener of Screams.

"Happy to meet you too,"  Olo keeps up the smile, "Don't worry, I'm not as good as Journeys but I'm still pretty good."

Marco keeps staring at Jess.  Staaaaaaaaaaaare.  He coughs.  "... Of the Earth Dragon."  He corrects himself.  Staaaaaaaaare.  He coughs again, "Family name.  The Polos have served Journeys for centuries."

Jess grins. "An important distinction, I suppose. And it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Polo."

She was sure she was projecting, but minus Olo, this all seemed weirdly familiar. Even Journeys reminded her just a bit of an old manager from a long while ago.
This message was lightly edited by the player at 20:42, Tue 31 Jan 2017.

"Yeah, I guess.  Call me Mark.  It gets weird asking for a Mr. Polo when Olo's already running around."  He scratches his neck and turns back towards Journeys, "Hey, boss.  I'm going to be useful as tits on a bulkhead; alright if I catch some sleep?"

"Yeah, sure."  He looks back at Jess, "He's my bodyguard, which means he spends most of his time as useless as tits on a bulkhead.  I can't remember the last time he had to fight."

"The demon-mafia on the Transport Walletpincher.  Last week,"  Marco grumbles.

"Oh, well, they're not the Neverborn so they don't count."
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:36, Tue 31 Jan 2017.