Sea of Stars - IC

[Kaptin Keen]

Well that's just unsporting. I guess even if we reached the reactor and disabled it before it went critical - we'd just have another dead ship in Processional, eh?

RETREAT!!

Hoping that the commander agrees, Felidae starts leading the marines back off ship.

[PotatoGolem]

Fall back to the Sting, men, and be quick about it! These curs seek to destroy themselves rather than face the Emperor's Judgement.

[Destro_Yersul]

The marines began a disciplined retreat, while Hannabel kept a careful eye on the readings from the raider. The reactor overload would take some time to build to critical mass, but much of that time was spent getting everybody back on board. The boarding parties were back on the Sting without incident, having fallen back in good order. With everyone secured, the only thing that remained was to pull away from the ship and maybe find some cover. The wreck of the Wrath was near enough to hide behind, if Hannabel could successfully disengage, though they might need to push the engines a little to get there.

Anika had finally managed to get the augur arrays to cooperate, the static dissolving for a brief moment to give her a clear picture of the state of the enemy shrike. It wasn't pretty. Fires raged across the decks, and as she watched Torgan landed a few hits from his missiles. The void shields collapsed, and did not come back online. Moments later, the Fury fired again, having managed to repair her Stygies guns. The armour-piercing shells tore through the thin hull of the shrike, inflicting heavy damage. It looked as though another good hit would finish the ship completely, though they'd hardly need to worry. The fires were in the process of eating the ship from the inside out, and it was unlikely at this point that enough crew remained to fight them effectively.

[Destro_Yersul]

The Sting disengaged, firing engines on full burn and heading for the wreck of the Wrath. Behind them, the raider detonated, a new bright star casting harsh white light across everything nearby. The explosion caught the other two disabled ships, sending them tumbling through the void. The smaller raider tore itself in half as it spun, shattered wreckage spinning off in all directions. The firestorm weathered the blast without taking further serious damage.

For a time, the remaining ships hung in the void, watching the demise of the shrike. Torgan fired a few more half-hearted shots across her bow, but there was little he could do to make things worse. After a while, the fires finally burned themselves out, leaving the hull blackened and gutted, its interior likely home to only a handful of survivors, reduced to fighting amongst themselves in a ship that no longer had the means to support them.

[Leon]

++Well that's one way to do it, i guess they must have heard that the Lord Captain likes to collect frigates++

[Haval]

++Well that's one way to do it, i guess they must have heard that the Lord Captain likes to collect frigates++

'May everyone who attacks us be so considerate. Someone find out if the Fury and the Pride need any assistance dealing with the damage they took?'

[Destro_Yersul]

With the enemies dealt with, Torgan looped back around and resettled his ship on the corpse of the Wrath, while Macharius' ships once again took up patrol positions. This time around, enemies emerged from the debris field to trouble their work, but none of them could quite shake the feeling of creeping dread, of being watched by something infinitely vast and malevolent. Torgan's crew were among the worst affected. There were murmerings of dissent from the lower decks, gradually growing in volume as time passed, and the salvage work continued. Ravia witnessed it firsthand, while assisting with removing components from the hulk. The work was slow, and the salvage teams seemed more or less unaffected, encased in heavy suits as they worked to free valuable parts from the twisted remains of the Wrath. The crew on board, though, frequently paced restlessly across the decks. The temperature dropped, little by little, until everyone on board had to don whatever thick coats and gear they could find hurrying about with heads down while their breath misted in front of them.

It was the same aboard the Manticore's Sting. Dark mutterings filled the corridors, thin tendrils of frost creeping along the ductwork and cabling. Once, the life sustainers coughed, sputtering and turning over before the fans all whirred back to life. Testing the system showed no faults, and examining the physical components found nothing more than a few squeaky bearings in need of replacement. The frost built up on the great armourglas viewports until it was too thick to see through, and it was possible to imagine the ship encased in ice, perhaps buried thousands of metres deep beneath the windswept surface. In many places the air grew still, the ship echoing with hushed whispers that were not quite there. In these darkened halls, the luminators flickered feebly, and the only sign that the ship was still alive was the distant hum of the plasma drives. In some of the darkest, most forgotten corners, even this vanished.

It was as the last bundles of cable for the Witch Augurs were being pried from the Wrath that madness took the first of them. Several of the crew stopped what they were doing, staring blankly ahead. No manner of persuasion could shift them, and when at last they were carried physically away in order to avoid spooking the others, they curled into fetal balls and sobbed. These were mercifully the only casualties; Hannabel and Felidae were entirely uneffected, weathering the oppressive darkness by the grace of the Emperor. For Anika, it was much worse.

Spoiler: Anika Only

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The presence of the star was almost unbearable now. It whispered in her mind, dark thoughts creeping in unbidden. She could feel it, crawling under her skin, grasping at her heart with tendrils of black fire. It was cold, impossibly cold, and it hated them. It hated them with a relentless fury the likes of which she had never felt before, smouldering icy rage roiling beneath its dark surface. At times, she thought she could see it through the hull, always watching. It wanted them gone, she was sure of that, gone or dead or worse, bent to its will. It would have them eventually, if they stayed here too long.

That was the worst of it. If only it had just hated them. If only it hadn't been so grimly triumphant about its inevitable victory.

Finally, Macharius called a halt to the operation, ordering all ships to make speed for the warp portal. The ships fired their great enginess, Torgan's transport loaded to bursting with valuable salvage. Once again, he took up position flanked by the two Absalom vessels, and Hannabel shot their way through the debris. The guns of Absalom cleared the path, and it was not long before they had left the inner sea behind them, the frost receding as they made all haste in their escape. By some miracle, and Hannabel's skill at the controls, they passed back through the Processional unscathed, back to where the Talon still waited, hovering - anxiously, it seemed - near the portal that was their only escape. One by one, with the Fury in the lead, they passed back through the portal. One by one, as the shimmering veil passed over the ships, they vanished from the Processional of the Damned.

---

The moment they were on the other side, back to hanging in the blessed normalcy of the void on the other side, the whispers and static that had plagued the vox vanished. Frost hissed and steamed, melting away into vapour. Belowdecks, the crew rejoiced - none more loudly or joyously than the refugees they had saved. They had left the cursed place behind, at last, and were fully prepared to give their oaths of service to Macharius as their saviour.

Returning to the bridge from a tour of inspection, Macharius found Tobias Hawke standing a respectful distance from his command throne, a grin on his face and his arms folded in front of him. "What'd I tell you?" He said. "Not so bad at all, really, and you've got your parts, just like I said you would."

[Leon]

++Would be good to come back again some day and have a crack at some of what else lies in there and get some more data from the star++

[Kaptin Keen]

++Would be good to come back again some day and have a crack at some of what else lies in there and get some more data from the star++

Return business - we might be the only ones.

[PotatoGolem]

Indeed, Mister Hawke. You lived up to your word admirably. We have our prize and then some. Your retainer was money well spent. An excellent adventure, if I do say so myself.

He laughs at Ravia's suggestion. Bold, magos, bold indeed! I think we ought to give it a rest for now, what? Spend some time in a less actively hostile locale. I'm sure we can arrange more derring-do soon enough.

Later, he goes to visit Anika in her chambers. He's wearing plain (for him) clothes, and waves off all his attendants except the omnipresent Almagor. As the servants leave, he drops the bravado, looking at her with concern.

Are you all right, Anika? This trip seemed to tax you greatly. You've been more withdrawn than usual, and I'm worried about you. As an old friend, not just as my seneschal.

[rax]

++Would be good to come back again some day and have a crack at some of what else lies in there and get some more data from the star++

"You want to go back there? Then you'd better learn how to fly a ship, Magos, 'cos I ain't going back for a good long time," Hannabel comments.

Returning to the bridge from a tour of inspection, Macharius found Tobias Hawke standing a respectful distance from his command throne, a grin on his face and his arms folded in front of him. "What'd I tell you?" He said. "Not so bad at all, really, and you've got your parts, just like I said you would."

Later, between shifts, Hannabel corners Hawke when he's on his own. "So, Mr. Hawke. I suppose you're quite proud of yourself, eh? Got the Lord Commander his new toys, a nice pat on the back, and the only people who died were the drudges that do all the hard work in Macharius' little fleet. Jobs a good 'un, is that it? Is that what you're thinking?" she hisses at him, one hand hovering over her gun.

[Destro_Yersul]

With Macharius

"Worked out all right," Hawke agreed with a smile. "I've got another bargain for you, if you're interested. Had word from one of my contacts make it through a couple hours ago. Apparently House Castermire is looking for a placement for one of their scions. They're sending a small dowry to anyone who will take him. If you need another Navigator..."

With Hannabel

"How many crew did you lose? Shouldn't think it was that many. You handled yourselves very well in there." Hawke said. Hannabel caught his eyes flicker towards her gun and then back up. It didn't look like he was armed, but then, it almost never did with the good ones. "Those chaps you picked up seem pretty capable, too."

"Really though," he said, leaning against a bulkhead. "That's what I was hired to do. The Captain wanted parts, I told him where to get them, he got them."

[Haval]

Anika has not slept since they entered the Processional and has been jittery and increasingly haggard looking since the fight on the Sting's hull. While the others recovered what they could from the various wrecks she has been staring at the augur display and chain smoking. As soon as they finally make to leave she will get one of the crew to take over and leave for her quarters.

There she has been nursing the strongest amasec she can find. At least down here there were no windows, but it hardly mattered as she felt she knew exactly where the Processional's star was anyway. After letting Macharius in, 'So here's the thing. I can't quite shake the feeling that the star is watching us. Doesn't matter that we're fairly small in the grand scheme of things. Doesn't matter that there's probably thousands of wrecks out there that it could be watching instead. Doesn't even matter that it's a bloody star and you wouldn't normally expect it to do that. It's somehow aware, which means it might not actually even be a star. It's just something that chooses to look like one to draw in the unlucky. I mean, how do all those ships end up here in the first place? So many in the same place? I think something is drawing them here on purpose like the whole system is it's trophy room. I'd say it ought to be destroyed like the Yu'vath just on general principle, but where would you even start.'

[rax]

"How many crew did you lose? Shouldn't think it was that many. You handled yourselves very well in there." Hawke said. Hannabel caught his eyes flicker towards her gun and then back up. It didn't look like he was armed, but then, it almost never did with the good ones. "Those chaps you picked up seem pretty capable, too."

"Really though," he said, leaning against a bulkhead. "That's what I was hired to do. The Captain wanted parts, I told him where to get them, he got them."

"We got them. Me, the Magos, her Ladyship, Bolterface. All of us together and all the little people that you an' the Lord Commander think are expendable. But without them, this expedition was never going nowhere. Without them, Manticore's Sting is just an empty hulk. She needs her people, see? So when her people die, she gets sad, see? And when she gets sad...I get...mad," Hannabel whispers as she steps closer to Hawke, a chilling smile on her lips... and then a snorting, bubbling laugh bursts out of her.

"I-I-I'm sorry! I just couldn't resist! You were just so full of yourself back there on the bridge," she blurts out between gales of laughter. "You did good, Hawke. You really did," she snorts, slowly regaining her composure.

"Say, how about I make it up to you? There's a bottle of amasec that needs emptying back in my cabin and I could use some company. You up for showing a girl a good time?" she purrs at him. "Make me real happy, and I may even have a business proposition for you. Interested?"

Spoiler: @Destro_Yersul

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Hannabel being Hannabel, she can't resist messing with Hawke's head, so this is mostly RP. But she does actually want to get friendly with him because she wants him to help track down a Modified Jovian Class 2 drive for the Sting.

Charm test vs. 59 (Fel 54 +5 for Loyalty trait)

Edit: Of course, it helps if one remembers to actually use the dice roller... Rolled test in the dice roller thread. As noted, Hannabel will use an FP to get +1 DoS.

[Destro_Yersul]

With Hannabel

This was, fairly clearly, not how Hawke had expected this exchange to go. Hannabel saw him stiffen, and then relax and smile, when she started laughing.

"You can be scary, you know that? If it's a good time you want, though, I'm up for that. I'd offer to fetch the alcohol, but sounds like you've got that covered." There probably wasn't much on board better than what she'd got anyways. Hawke hadn't brought anything of his own. He offered her an arm.

"What sort of proposition did you have in mind? Your boss is paying me pretty well, and I'm happy to take something that would keep me on his payroll."

[rax]

"Oh, it should be simple enough for a man of your talents, Hawke. You found the Lord Commander a new drive for his big-ass battlewagon - now I want you to find one for the Sting. One of these, to be more precise," she answers, fishing a folded piece of paper out of her pocket. "Think you can do that? Or are you going to disappoint a girl this early into the evening?"

[Destro_Yersul]

With Hannabel

Hawke looked at the paper and whistled. "Those aren't easy to find. Though, you don't need one that people won't know you have, right? I could probably track one down. Might take a little bit, and I'd need to get back to Footfall, first. Need to send out a few feelers, ask around. Research, y'know?" He seemed to be warming to the challenge, even as he considered it. "Probably somewhere less dangerous, this time. Maybe." He grinned at her. "But what's life without a little danger and a few ruffled feathers?"

[rax]

He grinned at her. "But what's life without a little danger and a few ruffled feathers?"

"As boring as Macharius' sermons an' speeches!" Hannabel titters as they approach her quarters. "Now, less talking, more celebrating! If I'm not singing dirty ditties by the next watch, we're doing it wrong!"

[PotatoGolem]

On the bridge

Another Navigator? Always better to have too many than not enough. Set up a meeting with him. If he's a decent chap and the dowry's good, this may work out quite nicely.

------------------

Macharius listens to Anika quietly, then sits across from her and pours himself an amasec. That is... a disturbing thought. What sort of being do you think it is? You're the expert in such matters. He pauses. We're a long way from home, aren't we? But this is what we always talked about, right? Going on grand adventures, seeing the galaxy... Be careful what you wish for, heh. He chuckles weakly. After a time in silence, he makes the sign of the Aquila and straightens in his chair. The Emperor protects. He's been with us so far, Anika. With Him watching over us, we'll be ok. He pats her arm reassuringly.

[Haval]

'What type of creature? I have no idea, that's the problem. It's something that I have no frame of reference for. I mean there are stories about people who got too close to the Eye of Terror and felt like it was watching them, but if the Processional was that affected by the warp I think we would have noticed, assuming we even made it out.' Anika actually returns the Aquila which she generally never does, 'He better. Adventure is all very well but I never expected to something like that.' She gestures at the nearest bookcase, 'Because it helps me cope and because I frankly can't stand not knowing I may actually look into it to see if I feel better about all this. Then, after I drink a lot, I may see how much putting up those ward things in my quarters would actually cost.'

On the way from the Processional Anika will keep to her quarters and delegate any work to her subordinates.

Spoiler: ooc

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Actually, I think researching the Processional would cause Fear until the trauma wears off.

[Destro_Yersul]

The priority was, for the moment, seeing their ships repaired and their salvage stowed safely away. Unfortunately, they couldn't yet go to the same place for both things, and they needed to return Hawke to Footfall. The information broker had sent a few messages ahead, and had promised them a meeting with the Navigator from house Castermire. They would be able to take on supplies, crew, and get as much repair work done as the dynasty's budget could afford. It was easy to look forward to the completion of Port Davis, when at least they'd be able to get a discount on labour by virtue of co-owning the shipyards.

For now, though, it was Footfall first. Torgan hung back, so as not to need to declare his cargo. He promised to stick around long enough to get their supplies where they were going, but asked that they not spend too much time on shore leave. Fortunately, there weren't that many things to do, this time around. Hawke disembarked, thanking Hannabel for her company, and promising to look into the favour she'd requested. Then, it was time to go meet Echo.

[rax]

Hannabel skipped off the Sting, blowing Hawke a playful kiss before taking her place in Macharius' retinue. On the journey back, she had finally found the time to get to grips with the alien shardguns she had taken from the Fllurlokr armouries and now sported two of them instead of her usual laspistols. She'd even managed to get them to interface with Imperial-issue motion predictors and laser sights. All in all, she was quite proud of herself.

Holy Emperor, please let the meeting this new Navigator be done quickly, she prayed silently. She was dying to hit the shops and then, hopefully, find Grig and the other Kroot to tell them of her latest adventures.

[Blarghy]

The voidfarers, doubtlessly, would be unimpressed by this small, hollow asteroid. By common standards, it was a mansion in its own right, but they'd witnessed far better. The hidden grav-generators fluctuated slightly, so that each step felt inconsistent and off-balancing; judging by chains on the furniture and various appliances, the generators at least occasionally failed altogether. And there was no disguising the hired Footfall scum who staffed this home; they wore their fine clothing uneasily, their manners were forced and unfamiliar, and they had that watchful gleam in their eyes that made one clutch one's wallet.

The current tenant of this rental property would agree on all counts. He tired of this slum as soon as he moved in, and now he can't wait to return to the stars.

Among the local-born servants, though, stalked a few men and women of better quality. They moved like predators in the undergrowth and watched their inferiors carefully. They'd had to draw their mono-falchions and administer "discipline" so many times that they rarely bothered to tell their master, but today's long-awaited guests at last warranted his personal attention. So, a young man with an old man's beard hurried upstairs to the mansion's most secure room with the good news.

"Master Kennoch." He bowed, his white beard fluttering. "They've arrived."

On a velvet couch reclined a man in elegant, silk robes, reading a dataslate. He turned his head: pale and smooth as a marble egg, split by veins of lightning, hideous to behold in stark contrast to his finery. Of course, his assassin-bodyguard had seen and served much worse. The voice still took some getting used to, though.

"Thank you, thank you Isund Isund Isund Isund." Echo the Navis rose slowly to his feet. "Gather the others gather gather gather while I prepare I prepare and I will meet and will will meet you in the main hall you main hall."

* * *

And so, Macharius Absalom and his crew were invited to the largest room in the mansion, offered amasec, and entertained with passably-competent music while they waited. Their host didn't delay long, being just as eager--if not more--to finalize this bargain. Soon he emerged at the top of the stairs: perhaps it was already a good sign that this Navis had the decency to cover himself up. Instead of even the standard heavy robes and low-pulled cowl, this mutant wore a full void-suit indoors (which might perhaps cast some doubt on the air quality here, but it seemed fresh, or as fresh as Footfall got, anyway).

The beautiful platinum armor depicted constellations of sapphire stars, faces of ancient saints and the Emperor, and some of His glorious words. Centered on the breastplate was a prayer popular among Navigators. Originally spoken by the Emperor to His Primarchs, it took on special significance here: As I trust in your courage, trust in my wisdom. As I trust in the skill and strength of your arm, trust in the clarity of my vision.

The Navigator began to descend, one clunky step at a time. By his side was bizarre, six-limbed, half-golden creature from ancient Terra; it quickly lost patience with its master's pace and lumbered ahead to the floor. More disciplined were the five soldiers flanking him. Their leader, a white-bearded man who weirdly looked young as he came closer, carried the ceremonial eye-topped staff of the Navis clans. The other four carried two large, ornate chests between them on poles; managing it on stairs with relative ease seemed a testament to their strength and agility. At the bottom of the steps, they lowered the chests and opened the lids to reveal a wealth of precious gems. A small drop in Marcharius's vast empire, true, but they did glitter so prettily in the flickering lights.

Spoiler

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Duty Bound (Duty to Your Dynasty): +1 Profit Factor. Yay!

"Esteemed Lord-Commander, we greet you and honor your presence," the white-bearded swordsman said. "I present to you Master Kennoch of House Castermire, son of Lillia Ellpool, grandson of Lady Avia the Emerald Eye!" He passed the ceremonial staff to his master's gloved hands, then stepped back. As Kennoch bowed his head before Marcharius, the bodyguards made sure to bow lower, from the waist.

Then he spoke, damn him.

"Lord-Commander Absalom Absalom Absalom Absalom? Absalom! Absalom Absalom." The few words crackled and multiplied from Kennoch's vox-speaker as though a whole committee was hiding in his helmet. They were the voices of men and women, of giggling children and rasping elders, curious and indignant and a dozen other emotions.

"I offer you offer offer you my service, service to stand by your side, side stand to support your endeavors, support to follow your will, follow as you speak the will of the Emperor Emperor Emperor Emperor! Emperor!. I offer you you you you my eye, eye my eye? and my life, my life? and I entrust to you entrust stewardship of my very soul soul soul soul soul."

Kennoch came closer, held his staff horizontally before him in his upturned hands, and presented it ceremonially to Macharius. It took him a moment, thanks to his void-suit, but he managed to take a knee in front of the Lord-Commander. Behind him, his five bodyguards drew their swords and knelt likewise.

"Will you lead me lead lead me will you? to claim Mankind's birthright Mankind's kind's birth birthright of the Expanse? Expanse? Expanse? To guard the faithful guard faithful and expunge the heretic heretic heretic heretic! hetetic! in the Emperor's name? Emperor's name? Emperor's name? Emperor's name?"

The Rings of Castermire raised their mono-falchions and shouted as one: "Glory to the Emperor! Prosperity to Absalom!"

[rax]

"God-Emperor above and below, he don't half go on, do he?" Hannabel leans over and whispers theatrically to Ravia.

[Kaptin Keen]

Felidae very slightly raises an eyebrow. She doesn't say anything, but thinks to herself - almost visibly - geez, another one? Well at least they should be very happy together.

[Haval]

Anika arrives just before the introduction having had an unsuccessful time trying to negotiate with various arms dealers. With the fight on the Sting's hull still fresh in her mind she has decided to try and put her money to better use. Assuming she could ever find the right merchant the crew might be better prepared the next time something like that happened.

When the Navigator and his retinue appeared she finds herself feeling underdressed, but she had long ago learnt to pretend in these situations. She'll move to shake the Navigator's hand if he was willing. 'A pleasure to meet you. My name is Anika and I mostly act as Macharius' Seneschal, so feel free to come see me if you have any requests. We can have our people take those chests over to the Sting if you like.' She'll point at the Familiar, 'and you'll really need to tell me where you found that at some point.'

[PotatoGolem]

Macharius, for his part, looks even more regal than usual. He's back to wearing his admiral's dress uniform, made of the finest fabrics and chased and embroidered with enough precious metals to bankrupt a small hive. The golden Rosarius glows on his chest, displayed proudly. Behind him, scurrying servants carry his command baton and armaments reverentially. The full five Praetorians surround him, marching in parade drill with their hellguns, their crest-embossed armor gleaming with polish. They stand to attention as the ceremony unfolds.

Macharius' handsome face betrays no hint of surprise when he hears the Navigator's voice, maintaining the same facade of imperious benevolence. He takes the proffered staff and addresses the gathering, voice booming. Lord Castermire. I accept your service in the name of the Immortal Emperor. In the name of Him on Terra, I seal this bargain. In the name of the Master of Mankind, I consecrate this pact.

Your eye shall pierce the darkness of the great beyond, and I shall bring the light of the Most Holy. Your gaze shall behold the lost and ignorant tribes of mankind, and I shall unite them with the Imperial Truth. Your sight shall reveal the vile heretic and the perfidious alien, and I shall purge them from the galaxy. Together, we will bring the Imperium to the Expanse! We will claim humanity's birthright and bring the reign of Terra to the farthest stars! Together, we shall work to achieve His glorious goal, the destiny He promises: one galaxy, one mankind, all under the one true God-Emperor! Arise, Lord Castermire, and serve Absalom and the Emperor!

[Blarghy]

Echo struggled back to his feet; his helmet hid a mildly surprised smile. "Yes, yes yes yes," he replied, simple and soft in contrast to his speech.

I would have accepted nearly any captain, so long as they returned me to the heavens. But this man...perhaps he's more than merely adequate. A worthy ally who won't need cajoling to fight the Castermares, damn their eyes.

With a final bow to Marcharius, Kennoch and his entourage relaxed a bit. He turned his attention toward Anika. The Navigator accepted her hand--it was like shaking an armored oven mitt, but at least he took care not to pinch her fingers between the platinum plates of his glove--and agreed, "Of course, course course course on all counts, on all counts all." Again, his helmet obscured his expression, but he sounded pleased at her interest in his familiar: "Mr. Wah Dell Dell Dell was a gift gift years ago years ago from a dear friend friend friend friend." The tilt of his head suggested a moment of reminiscence at that good memory.

For his part, the golden monkey/mockery of life and science looked up at the Seneschal quizzically, then knuckle-walked away, having lost interest. His desire to leave the confines of the mansion was almost palpable; Kennoch agreed, though he still chuckled a bit. "Forgive him, forgive give give. He is sometimes willful sometimes he is."

[Kaptin Keen]

Felidae really isn't accustomed to these kinds of things. Wait, is this a general introduction, or only command crew? Am I command crew, or just a grunt? Gah - better just roll with it!

She steps forward, her gorgeous yet ancient power armor clanking, and the equally ancient stormbolter slung over one shoulder because no one told her this would be a social gathering - to shake the Navigatos hand, slightly unsure whether that's the right thing to do - and what to say.

Master Echo - I am Felidae. I'm .. uh, let's just say I shoot things for the Lord-Commander. When shooting things is the appropriate response.

[rax]

Popping out from behind Ravia and Felidae, Hannabel gives Echo a quick wave. "Hello there! Hannabel here! I fly the ships and shoot the guns. Say, that's a really fancy void suit you got there. Are those real gemstones? Is that platinum? Is that your real voice or are you just messing with us? Why are you wearing a void suit indoors, anyway? Do you have a nasty rash or something? I'll bet Magos Ravia's got some ointment if you do. You should meet her."

"Magos? Why aren't you talking to the Navigator? You got a problem with his sort? What about his monkey? Isn't it pretty? Oh, right, almost forgot. I was gonna ask - what's your monkey for, exactly?"