Arrival of a Pair of Swords

{INServ} [[Okay. Here's the setup. For Ripley and Giri, it's been two weeks since we last saw 'em, as the ship Ripley's helping to fly has made a beeline from Rhadymanthys to Citidas on its two-week(in one direction) run. Giri's been coldsleeping, but in the week before during training, he mnanaged to learn some interesting nuggets of info. Meanwhile, Ripley's been doing fantabulously well at learning the ins and outs of piloting, and reading up on the -known- -official- layout of Citidas Station, and therefore effectively has Area Knowledge for it. Tina and Ian and the rest of the funkyfresh angels have bene puttering around Citidas doing Rolejobstuff, and know that there's a party going to be held later that night in Gamma Grove. And with that basic info there... we begin!]]

{Gerald} [[[Tina] ....never mind all the other inhabitants... {twitch}]]

{Sabre} [[Ripley takes a breath mint and prepares to begin.]]

* Friday, July 3rd, 2071. Somewhere around the orbital space of Saturn, a TriOp corporate express shuttle speeds its way towards Citidas Station, which orbits the great ringed gas giant in the same orbital plane as its moon, Rhea. Aboard it, it carries few passengers, save for some in coldsleep, and its piloting staff.

* Lt. Randolf looks at his control console, watching over the other trainees who've accompanied him on this flight. "Janine? How much further to Citidas?"

*R-Type* [["Is it much further, Papa Smurf?" "Not far now!"]]

* Janine Daniels, a pretty redhaired aisian girl in TriOp piloting overalls, consults a display. "Approximately 200,000 kilometers, sir..." Indeed, out the forward viewport can be seen the large en-ringed form of Saturn, growing closer and larger with every passing moment...

* Lt. Randolf nods, and looks at John David Ripley. "Mr. Ripley, the Conn is yours. Take us in to Citidas Station, nice and easy."

* Ripley has been exceptionally focused on his watches. Focused on the speed, the ineffable sensation of flight, faster than almost can be believed, the motion of celestial bodies around each other. The challenges of shifting movements and bodies in motion... "Yessir. Thank you sir." He grins slightly, settling into the Conn chair and nodding to the trainee he's relieving. He takes a breath, feeling the controls, the station, the *motion...*

## Sabre rolled 3d6 = 6 (1 3 2).

-} *Sabre* That's a success on resonance... so what do you want to try boosting?

* Saturn floats outside the viewport, lit by the glow of the sun behind their little vessel, almost -beckoning- to the young Ofanite...

*Sabre* Mmm... skill roll for the docking procedure.

-} *Sabre* Okay. That'll be Agility+Piloting(1)+CD of Resonance == 11. Go for 11 or less!

* Ripley grins, following the beacon...

## Sabre rolled 3d6 = 10 (4 3 3).

*Sabre* Yay!

-} *Sabre* (I figure Piloting's a skill that kinda flips between Agility and Intelligence depending on the circumstance... Agility for reaction-critical events (combat-flying, etc), and Intelligence for Figuring Out What The Fsck These Controls Do(tm). ;) ]

*Sabre* Right. {g}

*Sabre* Works for me!

* The view shifts slowly, and then more noticeable, as Saturn's visible size increases, the moons orbiting it now more visible, glinting points in the sunlight, in a relative line tangental to the great streak across the starscape that are the distant stars of the Milky Way Galaxy... Ripley knows that by following the beacon, he'll be approaching Citidas, orbiting Saturn at Rhea's L5 point...

* Ripley eeeeeeeases the ship to its slip...

* Distances are crossed, Saturn passing to the 'right', the floating speck that is Citidas Station becoming visible, and then filling the view as Ripley smoothely turns the ship around and docks it into Flight Bay 6. Perfect Textbook Docking, by the numbers and without problems. There's a soft thud as the ship makes contact and other pilot trainees start chatting over communcation bands with the station's Flight Deck officers, confiriming that they're there and intact.

* Lt. Randolf nods to Ripley, a smile on his lips and in his eyes. "Nicely done, Mr. Ripley."

{Ripley} Thanks, sir. {he grins}

* Lt. Randolf chuckles, and gets out of his seat, standing in the gravity field created by the station. "Right. Everybody, get us locked down... Ms. Daniels, arrange for refueling with Citdas. The rest... you're dismissed once your console's tasks are done. If you're taking the flight back, I expect you here tomorrow at 0800 sharp. Otherwise... it's been a pleasure serving with you." He grins.

{Ripley} And you, sir. Thank you for everything. {he grins}

* Ripley closes down his panel.

{Lt. Randolf} You're welcome. *he smiles* It was a pleasure flying with you.

* Other trainees, and the more experienced hands are doing much the same, and gettingready to head out.

* Ripley grins, takes formal leave, and heads to the Cold Sleep modules.

* Ripley knows that this ship's shipment of Coldsleep chambers would right now be in the process of offloading... and that one of them holds his current superior. The main egress for Cargo is just down this corridor, now connected to the station by the means of a retractable passageway.

* Ripley heads down said corridor, testing the feel of gravity or pseudotherof.

* It feels like... Gravity! 1 Earth Gee, even with the fact that this station is more like a floating office-building than the rotational stations elsewhere. Clearly, the humans have made great strides in science to accomplish this...

* Down the corridor, Ripley can see the Coldsleep chambers in their transportation arrangement being hauled out, as well as other cargo modules... a little man-handled, but eh, what can you do?

* Ripley nods, looking for one that has his superior officer in it, being bounced around.

* Giri's coldsleep chamber can now be seen being hauled out by a dark-haired, stocky-built woman who's directing two others, rather brusquely. "... move it, MOVE IT, we don't have all evening, asses...."

* Giri's coldsleep chamber, to Ripley's eyes, also appears to be unharmed and still functional, for what it's worth. Though the way it just banged into that corridor sidewall might give doubts on how long it'll -stay- that way...

{Ripley} Hey hi! Can I give you a hand with that? He's an old friend.

* The woman looks up and down Ripley, her hair inneficently tied back. She glares at the two assistants. "Sure, -these- damn folks can't do their jobs, can't hurt to have a rookie try in their stead." A nametag, "J. Stevens", glints in the corridor light, and Ripley recognizes her to be clad in Flight Deck coveralls.

{Ripley} Thanks. {he grins, and shifts to help tote} How long you been on station?

* Stevens grunts, shifting the chamber a bit so that it doesn't ram -too- many people along the way. Her hand brushes against Ripley's as she rearranges her grip, and then finally after about 30 seconds of silence, she grumbles out: "... 'bout 6 months 'fore it came online, newbie."

## INServ rolled 3d6 = 14 (2 6 6).

{Ripley} Amazing. A-freakin'-mazing. That must have been incredible. What kind of work were you doing?

* Stevens grunts some more. The coldsleep chamber makes it through a large airlock, and then further into the station, towards what Ripley might recognize as the core of the level. "... Flight Deck stuff. Helping with cargo."

* Ripley nods. "You're good with it. What do we do with this?"

* Stevens guides the coldsleep chamber through hallways... "... Take it to the Cargo elevator, down to Med Level. They'll do their stuff to it."

* Ripley nods again. "Makes sense, thanks. So, you know the ins and outs of this place, huh?"

* Stevens grunts. "Know stuff. They keep building things, tho." She slaps one hand on the elevator call button, and soon the large doors open up and dfown into the ceiling and floor. The levator itself is large enough to hold several Coldsleep chambers without worries.

{Ripley} That's always the way, isn't it? What's a good place to eat around here?

*Sabre* [Ripley] Yay! My first day in space and I've already been *attuned!*

-} *Sabre* Nope, actually she didn't. *wl* She -is- getting a nice bit of obsession over him, tho. *wg*

-} *Sabre* (she's only got Will of 6, y'see. She failed.)

*Sabre* Ahhh... cool! {g}

*Sabre* Of course, Ripley doesn't *know* that...

* Stevens rolls her eyes. "Food's up on Exec level. And now, I've gotta get back to work. Later."

-} *Sabre* Oh, of -course- not....

{Ripley} Yeeeah. Right. Well, thanks!

* Stevens grunts, and gives a perfunctory wave as she heads back out the way they came.

* Other folks load in their own Coldsleep containers into the elevator. "You heading down?" one asks, having not paid attention to the byplay or realizing ripley's been pushing one of those containers as well.

{Ripley} Sure -- just following my friend's container.

* The man nods, and punches the button for the medical level. The door closes, and it starts heading doooowwwn.

{Ripley} How long's it take?

* The man glances at his watch. "Minute or two at the most... there's only the one main one, y' see."

* Indeed... *ding!* They're at the Medical Level.

* The doors grind open, and the medical level floor is revealed. The Coldsleep containers are trundled out...

* Ripley follows along.

* And as they head further into the depths of the Medical Level... we Fork.

* The Medical Level of Citidas Station, as would be expected, is very much like a modern Hospital of the 2070's, save that it's floating in the middle of space. The scent of antiseptic and hyper-filtered air hangs in the atmosphere, and all surfaces are kept as clean as humanly possible. The Coldsleep containers are hauled towards Gamma Quadrant, through doors big enough to pass two of them at once, and down a hallway to waiting rooms and recovery rooms.

* One of the orderlies waves to Ripley as the containers are ushered to several side rooms. "Hey, you came in with the new guys?"

* Meanwhile, other orderlies are starting to fiddle with the containers... the rooms that they're being moved into have depressions in the floor and adjacent wall that are just about the sized for a Coldsleep Chamber.

{Ripley} Sure did. {grin} Just waiting for a friend.

* The orderly nods, and smiles. "Right. Well, there's a waiting room over there.." He points to another, smaller room. "... The doctor's'll let you know when he or she's recovered. Who you waiting for?"

{Ripley} Oh, one of these -- hard to say which in here. {he grins, bouncing on one foot} Mind if I have a look around?

* The other orderlies and technicians guide the Coldsleep Chambers towards the depressions... when they reach them, they fiddle with the controls, and the containers lower into their waiting berths, each one connecting up with the station's power supplies.

## INServ rolled 3d6 = 15 (4 5 6).

* The orderly sighs, and shakes his head. "I'm sorry, but you'll really have to wait out here, though you can look around the waiting area in Alpha and Beta Quadrants, if you want..."

## Gerald rolled 3d6 = 11 (4 6 1).

* The orderlies check over the patient displays, checking to make sure those who took the trip made it all right... they start popping the hatches on the Coldsleep chambers, hooking up the fluid reserviors to start flushing out the drugs with saline solution placebo.

{Ripley} Oh... I see... all right, well, thank you...

* The orderly shrugs, sheepish. "Hey, if you give me your name, we can page you when your friend wakes, okay?"

{Ripley} Right. Pilot-Trainee John D. Ripley. Thanks...

* The orderly makes a note. "Gotcha. We'll let you know." He heads off to inform one of his superiors.

## GeraldN rolled 3d6 = 9 (2 3 4).

* The other orderlies and doctors do their job... slowly, one of the folks who had gone into Coldsleep awakens, and is escorted to a changing room... it is not Giri, but another...

* Ripley paces the Medical Level, looking at all sort of things where he can, trying to resist the urge to whistle.

* In the recovery room, Gerald Naismith's eyelids flutter, as if coming out of a very uncomfortable dream, his aristocratic countenance looking....terribly vulnerable for a second...

* Ripley can see that the Medical Level is much like any other hospital he's been in... clean, antiseptic, folks in lab-coats... the occasional potted plant, artfully arranged... the occasional security camera...

* Ripley determines, therefore, that this place is *boring.* He fiddles with a pen.

* GeraldN ponders between dignity and calling attention to his current consciousness-raising situation, har har. For the moment he settles on dignity. Well, that and the fact his mouth isn't particularly in operative mode, aside from feeling and tasting extremely noisome.

* The air is cool and clean, with that particular 'bite' that earmarks 'hospital' to Gerald. Eventually, a female face moves into view. "Ah, good, you're awake now." She smiles.

* The pen is very pen-like. Why, look! It even has a TriOp logo on it. If one was gifted with the Malakite of Creation attunement, you could do many nasty things with that pen, but if not, it can always be used for doodling.

* GeraldN nods, wincing a bit at the light. {q, a bit raspy} "Yes. Would you be so kind as to get me some water?" {thread of maybe smile}

* The woman holds up a squeeze-bottle. "Number one on our request list, down here." She holds it so that Gerald can take the straw in his mouth and siphon.

* GeraldN nods thanks, and works at getting some water into himself, still feeling terribly groggy and not at all up to mental speed yet.

* The woman smiles, and watches as Gerald drinks the water, and checking over a display with his vital signs.

* Ripley does in fact doodle. Badly.

* GeraldN keeps gulping it in--though his vessel may not necessarily *need* it, it's still complaining about the lack of hydration. His vital signs are indicating that he's coming out rather slowly, but still in the normal range.

{Woman} Anyway, Mr... Naismith, is it? It looks like you'll be makign a full recovery, by these readings. Sluggish, but understandable.

* Ripley's doodle could likely be used for Psychological Analysis. But if that's so, perhaps it could be interepreted as a Malakite bashing in a demon's head. From a certain viewing angle.

* GeraldN nods, looking wry, a brief haunted flicker crossing his face, but being covered up rapidly. He comes up for air. "Right. How long? And there may be someone watching for me."

* The woman regards the display. "JUst about two weeks, Mr. Naismith. And... hm. One of the orderlies -did- mention somebody had come down with the chambers. A Mr. Ripley? Does that ring any bells?"

{GeraldN} That would be him, yes.

* The woman nods. "Ah good. SHODAN? Could you page Mr. Ripley for us, please?"

{GeraldN} And I rather meant what's the estimated timeframe on this flushing out of me. . o O (This time. I hate coldsleep so...)

* Ripley, sadly, was working on 'cute doggy,' which may reflect his psyche.

* The woman ohs, and blushes. "Oh! My apologies... it should flush out in several hours completely.. we'll give you a little something to help speed up the process, though I doubt you'll be able to go on duty until tomorrow. Standard procedures." She smiles, slightly.

* A female, cultured yet process voice replies to the woman's earlier query. "Certainly, Dr. Stackhouse."

{GeraldN} Right. I...more meant basic motor skills, being able to walk without suddenly being on close intimate terms with the floor...that kind of thing.

* Elsewhere, in the medical level, an all-call is issued from hidden speakers in that same voice. "Paging Mr. John David Ripley. Paging Mr. John David Ripley. Please report to Coldsleep Recover Suite Four. Please report to Coldsleep Recovery Suite Four."

* Ripley is up and walking *fast* from the first second.

* Dr. Stackhouse nods. "Within the first half hour, certainly."

* To the Ofanite's senses and earlier study, the route to Coldsleep Recovery Suite Four is easily found.

{GeraldN} {absently, eyes still not quite focusing all the way and apparently very annoyed about it} Oh, good. Thank you.

* Ripley gets there, and knocks a few times on the door.

* Dr. Stackhouse raises her voice. "Come in!"

{GeraldN} {vaguely} Amway calling....

* Ripley steps in. "Oh... hi, ma'am. {he grins} How's Gerry looking?"

* Dr. Stackhouse chuckles. "And -you- must be Mr. Ripley. Mira Stackhouse, and 'Gerry' here is recovering fine." She smiles, bemused, at Gerald and Ripley.

{Ripley} I am, thanks. {he grins to her, offering his hands} Hello, Doctor Stackhouse, or could I call you Mira?

* Mira smiles, shaking Ripley's hand. "Mira's fine... my husband gets called Dr. Stackhouse so much they call me Dr. Mira to avoid confusion."

{GeraldN} {m, woozily irritable} Gerald...

{Ripley} Then I'm *very* pleased to meet you, Doctor Mira. John Ripley, but everyone just calls me Ripley, or Rip. And I can hear that Gerry's come through like the same old Gerry, so that's a good thing.

* Gerald fights down a facial tic. Barely.

* Mira looks between Ripley and Gerald, and fights to supress a chuckle. She is not entirely successful. "Anyway... let me get you unhooked here, and unlock the storage container below so you can get changed..."

* Mira starts de-tubing Gerald, in a professional fasion.

* Gerald flinches a bit as he's detubed, but seems to be a bit more relaxed.

* Mira notices this, and smiles reassuringly at Gerald. "There, that should do it." She moves over, and unlocks the storage container containing Gerald's change of clothes, and removes the duffel. She sets it on the nearest chair. "Changing rooms are around the corner, and when you're both ready, meet me in the waiting room, all right?"

{Ripley} I'm all ready. {he grins} But someone'd better make sure Gerry doesn't fall back asleep for another day or two...

* Gerald sits up, very smoothly. He hides the monumental effort it takes to seem to be under complete control very well.

{Gerald} {easily} You were saying?

* Mira laughs. "Don't worry, we have stimpacks for that, though we have to make sure they're necessary." She winks. "But anyway..." She waves to the twosome.

{Ripley} See? Anyone who can be that smooth in sitting up must be sleepwalking. {slight smile}

{Mira} Oh dear. Oh my. Make sure to keep him away from any heavy machinery, then. *wink*

* Gerald gets up, grumbling a bit. "I feel unfortunately completely conscious. Only without the good portions."

{Ripley} Perhaps we need a cup of coffee.

{Mira} Coffee, Coffee....

* Mira heads out of the coldsleep recovery room. In a minute, she returns with a bio-foam cup filled with the beverage.

* Gerald arches an eyebrow and a tadge too carefully, takes the drink.

* Ripley takes a cup too.

* It is.... coffee. Both of them get cups. It's pretty standard human quality.

* Ripley walks into the back room ahead of Gerald.

* Gerald takes it, not caring about the quality as long as it's not utterly undrinkable.

* Gerald follows after, toting his clothing.

* Mira , meanwhile, heads back to the waiting room to wait for the two gentlement.

* Ripley is cheerful and relaxed as he steps into the room, looking about for any sign of listening posts.

* Gerald listens as well, though he is slightly too controlled.

## Sabre rolled 3d6 = 9 (1 2 6).

* Ripley sees No Listening Posts. There are No Listening Posts In This Room.

*Sabre* Now *there's* a perception roll for you. {g}

{Ripley} {q} Sir, I believe I have been attuned to by a djinn.

* Naddah. Nyet. Nothing. No cameras, either. Clearly, when they said that this was a private changing room, they meant it.

-} *Sabre* *snort* I didn't -get- to attune. Damn ofanim, jumping to conclusions....

* -} Sabre: Mira shoves Jen back into the CL.

*Sabre* Annnnnnnnnd I've forgotten the name she gave Ripley, and can't find the log. Is it on the site?

## GeraldN rolled 3d6 = 13 (2 5 6).

-} *Sabre* Jen Stevens.

* GeraldN pauses, becoming much more sober. {q} "When?"

* Gerald, even though his post-Coldsleep haze, can confirm Ripley's assessment of the room. It's clean.

*Sabre* Thanks!

-} *Sabre* (one of the Flight Deck folks, fwiw.)

{Ripley} {q} On my way here. I assisted with your capsule, and tried to engage the worker, Jen Stevens, in conversation. She exhibited typical Djinn behavior and made especial effort to touch me, despite her boredom.

*Sabre* And he doesn't *know* she failed at the attunement. {g.

* GeraldN nods. "Did anything else of note happen?"

-} *Sabre* Well, yeah. But hey. Such is life. It makes it more exciting. ;)

{Ripley} {q} I got to land the ship.

*Sabre* Yes!

* GeraldN smiles a bit, struggling on with his clothing. {q} "Good, at least. We at least have one possible demon. If she tries to stalk you, let me know."

-} *Sabre* (and for info, last night's Ian/Tina/Val/Etc logs are up and HTML'd on the site.)

*Sabre* Yay!

{Ripley} {q} Yes sir. Otherwise, it's an incredible place. Do you need a hand?

{GeraldN} {q} Mm. I believe I have enough flushed out of me to manage, as long as I'm not engaging in risky gymnastics. But thank you. We probably need to meet with the others of the Host here, including Ian and Besodiah, and report in.

{Ripley} {q} Agreed. And I'm looking to get the lay of the land, too. It's big enough that I think a few days of 'sleepless' nights won't be noticed.

{GeraldN} {q} Well enou'...that's where you'll have a strength. I'll be rather busy maintaining my own roles.

* Ripley nods. {q} "What do you make of Miss Mira?"

{GeraldN} Mm. Dr. Stackhouse? I haven't seen anything yet overly twigging on her. I should have perhaps resonated but I wasn't at my most acute. What do you see?

{Ripley} {q} Well, she's cute. And enthusiastic. Which doesn't mean a lot to me, but then, I was mostly noticing how she moved through space, as you could imagine. {he pauses, considering} She moves well through space, now that I think on it.

{GeraldN} {q} Ahh....

{Ripley} {q} More to the point, she's also in a position to meet everyone who comes in, and assess them.

{GeraldN} {q} Oho....a contact?

{Ripley} {q} Perhaps. Or a good strategic asset. Potentially for either side.

{GeraldN} {q} Mm. Interesting. And rather unsettling.

{Ripley} {q} We should explore the possibilities, at least.

{GeraldN} {q} Yes. We should. Anything else of note?

{Ripley} {q} Not that I recall at this time.

{GeraldN} {q} Very well. We should likely check in with Mr. Honig, at least, then.

{Ripley} {q} Yes,sir.

* GeraldN nods, and heads out of the room. "Well, onward, then."

* The way to the waiting room is easily found! Several live plants sit in corners, and Mira is waiting there with two folders for the approaching gentlemen. "Ah, there you two are."

* GeraldN smiles, nodding. "Yes, indeed."

* Mira smiles and heads over, handing the twosome their folders. "Here's your room keycards, your room assignments, maps of the station, and the information on who you're to report to tomorrow. For the evening, you're both free, so enjoy it." She winks.

{Ripley} Thanks. {he smiles a bit} Is there a good place to eat?

{GeraldN} Understood. {smile}

* Mira chuckles. "Best places to eat would be the commisaries and cafeterias up on the Executive level, which is also where the majority of the crew quarters are."

{Ripley} Including ours? {grin} Coincidentially?

* Mira flips open Ripley's folder, and points to one line. "Exec Level Beta Quadrant, with the rest of the security folks. Yup."

{Ripley} So I see. What time's chow call, then?

* Mira thinks. "Well, it depends on your division and your shift..." She shrugs. "And I don't know that for the two of you, that's up to the Chief of Security to decide. But usually Breakfast runs from seven to ten in the morning, Lunch from twelve to fifteen, and then dinner from eighteen to twenty. There's also food available around twenty-two to twenty-four hundred, and there's the vending machines scattered across the station, of course."

{Ripley} Of course. {pause} So just out of curiousity, when's your dinner shift?

* Mira coughs, and looks somewhat embarrased. "Usually 1900. I share it with my husband." *grin*

{Ripley} Excellent. See, Gerry? That's *two* people we potentially know who we can have dinner with. {he grins, not missing a beat}

* GeraldN twitches some more. "This is true."

* GeraldN meets Mira's eyes...

## GeraldN rolled 3d6 = 13 (1 6 6).

* To Gerald's perceptive eyes, he can tell that Mira needs to have a good meal, to relax with her husband, to make sure the department runs smoothly, to keep tabs on some disturbing rumors she has heard, to figure out which businessmen are trying to control the medical section's policies, to take care and minster for her patients (despite any problems that might occur).

* GeraldN shows no outward signs to this information, but definitely notes it.

* Mira chuckles. "Well, if you two are going to be around, I'll be sure to have Gunther wait up for you..."

{GeraldN} Gunther being your husband? {slight smile}

{Mira} Indeed. *smile*

{GeraldN} I do see. {slight grin}

* Mira nods. "So, will that be all, or do I get to play tourguide as well?" She chuckles, clearly joking (and clearly having to get back to work.)

{Ripley} That'll be it, Doctor. For now, at least. {grin} And I'm looking forward to meeting Gunther.

* Mira smiles. "I'm sure he'll be pleased to meet both of you."

{GeraldN} Indeed... Good day. {smile} And likewise.

{Mira} And you. Have a good day, and welcome to the station. *she smiles, and turns, and heads back to her office to do office things*

* GeraldN waves slightly, then heads out of the recovery ward. "So, report, food, or go to rooms?" {checks his room number}

{Ripley} Report. We have time for food later.

{GeraldN} True enough again. Beta it is, then. Hopefully we can catch Mr. Honig.

* According to the maps and information in their folders, Mr. Honig's office is in Delta Quadrant of the Security Level.

* GeraldN nods. "Closest path there?"

{Ripley} Follow me.

## Sabre rolled 3d6 = 10 (2 6 2).

* GeraldN nods, following.

* And as Gerald follows Ripley, we Fork.

-} *Sabre* And roll for Area Knowledge, target # 8.

##} Sabre rolled 3d6 = 12 (5 6 1).

*Sabre* Nope!

-} *Sabre* Clearly, even though studying it on the way for the trip, he actually has to canvass the territory before getting better at it. ^_-;

*Sabre* Right!

* Ripley pauses as he walks, and then heads for the elevators. A very normal path, perhaps.

* The elevator suite to head up the station is in the Alpha Quadrant. They have to wait a little bit before it reaches the floor and opens (the elevator design is much like the TriOp offices on Rhadymanthys.)

-} *Sabre* I don't beleive ripley gets dissonance from it not working well, it's just annoying. :)

*Sabre* He doesn't, no. His resonance *was* successful. He just knows he doesn't know the area well enough, IMO.

-} *Sabre* Works for me!

* Gerald follows after, and waits, silently.

{Ripley} {vq} *Got* to get to know this place better.

* *ping* The elevator starts rising after they enter. It's... very elevatorish. And oh yes, there's that same psuedo-samba music.

{Gerald} {vq} Yes. Well, you do have the talent for it.

* Gerald isn't Tina. This is probably good, as otherwise we would have seen an interesting image of him barely resisting going into a screaming axe-weilding frenzy at listening to the music for the umpteenth nth time.

* Up up up the elevator goes goes goes...

* Ripley bounces on one leg. In tune with the music. {q} "Sometimes, it just means I can tell when I don't know the place well enough."

{Gerald} {q} Well, you can fix that.... {watches him go do the boingy Wheel thing with abstract and still faintly drugged fascination.}

* The elevator stops on the science level, and a woman in her mid twenty's gets in, her arms loaded with printouts. "Ooops, sorry!" She bumps into Gerald, overcompensating and not expecting someone to be there, and then tries to lift a foot to mash the button for the Engineering level (the level one floor down from the Security level.)

{Ripley} {q} I hope so.

* Ripley grins. "Here." {he pushes it for the woman} "Hi!"

{Gerald} ...Oooof. Good day?

* Gerald blinks, trying to catch her eyes.

* Lara meeps, and catches Gerald's eyes as she steadies herself. "Ooops, sorry!" She blinks, and realizes she doesn't recognize either of them in the elevator. "Hi there... you two new?"

{Ripley} We are indeed -- just off the ship today. I'm John Riply. {grin}

-} *GC* and Resonate!

## Gerald rolled 3d6 = 8 (5 1 2).

{Gerald} Gerald Naismith. {slight smile}

* Lara smiles. "Pleased to meet you both. Lara Dorsey. I'd shake your hand, but mine are taken up right now."

{Sabre} Understood. {he grins again}

* Ripley said that.

{Gerald} It's all right. You're being strangled by them, obviously.

* To Gerald's eyes, he can see that Lara needs to get the printouts back to her desk, and to finish off the day with a large chocolate shake once she gets off shift.

* Lara shrugs, sheepish. "Eh, just more driver code I need to go over for the science guys... some of the stuff they do is pretty esoteric."

* The elevator continues ascending.

{Ripley} I can imagine. Lots of research?

{Gerald} Hmm?

{Lara} Oh yeah... robotic, cybernetic, pharmacologic, some astrophysics...

{Gerald} Hmmm...interesting, that. Anything of especial note recently, or is it a large no-no for you to poke into their printouts? {eyes twinkle}

* Lara snorts, and laughs. "Oh, like there's anything of -interest- in the hardware level. Go ahead, take a look."

* Gerald pokes his nose down with exaggerated comedy. Mutters as it double-images for a moment, then focuses again on the printouts.

* The printouts are.... code. Yay. Unless you've got a degree in it (or two), it ain't gonna make sense.

* Gerald stands back up again. "I see.....binaries. It's very involving."

{Ripley} Enthralling, really. {grin}

{Gerald} Just like seeing _Cats_.

* Lara hehs, and smiles. "It's okay." The elevator slows, and dings. "You two getting off here, or heading up to the security level?"

{Gerald} Security, actually.

{Ripley} Me too. {grin} Though it's not the company, I promise.

{Lara} Oh, then you'll have to get out here. *she smiles, apologetically.* The main elevator doesn't go up there. Security reasons. You've gotta take another one in Gamma Quad.

{Lara} Oh, then you'll have to get out here. *she smiles, apologetically.* The main elevator doesn't go up there. Security reasons. You've gotta take another one in Gamma Quad.

{Gerald} Oh...I see. {wry smile} Thank you for the information.

{Lara} No problems! *she slips out of the elevator* See you two sometime!

* Gerald looks wry and follows. "Right! A pleasure meeting you."

* Lara nods to both, and heads off towards Alpha Quadrant, Enginneering.

* Gerald looks at the map. {q} "Gamma Quadrant..."

{Ripley} Up a bit more, sir...

* Gerald nods. "Which way?"

{Ripley} South. {he points at the map} But we need to reach the Security Level first.

* Gamma quadrant is indeed south. And the elevator UP to the Security Level is there.

* Gerald goes....SOUTH!

* ...or follows Ripley's lead. Either of which works. Zen Navigation works best if it's an Ofanite you're following.

{Ripley} Sir? Sir! Up the elevator first. {he grins, pushing the button}

* *ding!* The elevator arrives. Clearly it's got a shorter route.

{Gerald} Oh. Damn. {mutters about residual druggishness}

{Ripley} Language, sir. {impish smile}

* They both get in. The elevator ascends. There's more pseudo-samba music. Fortunately, the ride's much shorter.

* Gerald looks very wryly at the speaker.

* The elevator comes to a halt. The doors open... what awaits outside, in the security level....

* Gerald heads out.

* The security level... is very tall. Very, extremely tall. Take, if you will, a cylinder. Stick a second cylinder within it. On the outside edges of the first cylinder, stick elevators going up to the actual offices, which are about 4-5 stories above you. The open spaces are patrolled by flying robots.

{Ripley} Tall.

* There's recharge booths and accessways in the center of the inner cylinder, but no apparent elevators, since as it can be seen, personell use the elevators on the outer cylinder to get up to the offices, etc.

* Gerald blinks, impressed, then starts automatically assessing the place.

* Basically, from a beginning tactical assessment, anybody coming in from the elevator to try to get to Security proper is going to get hosed. It's very well set up with sniper positions and multiple arcs of fire. Now, WHY a research station would NEED such things is anybody's guess... but hey, who can figure CorporateThink these days?

* Gerald definitely takes note of this, filing it away for future reference, anyway.

{Gerald} ...Mm. Gamma quadrant.

{Ripley} This way.

* Gerald tries South. Again. This time. No, really.

{Gerald} And following Ripley too, as his player can't find direction in her head to save her life.

* There is, indeed, an elevator at Gamma quadrant, a little ways off from the elevator they came up on. A basket-affair, not enclosed. There is, mercifully, no psuedo-samba music this time. And as it ascends, it can be seen it's a nice long way down.

* Gerald decides not to do any swandiving in the near future, thank you.

* The elevator reaches the top. Along the way, Ripley and Gerald could see a bridge from another set of elevators to the central cylinder, about halfway up. The elevator stops, and the doors open to let them out. There's a large sign pointing towards offices in Delta Quadrant, and computer and monitoring rooms in Gamma proper.

{Ripley} {q} Ready?

{Gerald} {q} As I'll ever be given my state of mind. {wry look}

* It would apper to be a short walk to David Honig's office.

* Gerald heads that way, natch.

* Ripley does too.

* Indeed, soon they come to a sliding door with "Chief of Security -- David Honig" emblazoned on it.

* Ripley knocks.

* There's a beep, and an replying voice from a speaker. "Come in..."

* Gerald does.

* The door slides open. A 30ish man, with his hair cropped short in a military style, looks over a stack of reports. He's wearing a heavy, wide-collared jacket (likely due to the AC), and is sitting behind a desk which is in front of a wall-to-wall window looking out into Saturn local space. He looks up, and blinks. "Hello?"

* Gerald salutes. "Mr. Honig?"

* Ripley salutes as well.

* Honig pauses, and looks down at one of his displays, and then up at Gerald and Ripley. "Ah... Gerald Naismith and John David Ripley, the new recruits, correct?"

{Ripley} Yessir.

{Gerald} Indeed.

* Honig nods, and chuckles, looking a bit tired and ready to get off-shift. "Well. Welcome to Citidas Station, then. I'd give you a tour of the facility right now, but no doubt both of you need a rest after your trip in... and -I'm- likely to cash out in a few hours as well once I finish with this damned paperwork." He speaks with a faint russian accent.

{Gerald} Understood, sir. {wry smile} I'm still not fully recovered from coldsleep, and we can manage.

{Ripley} Of course sir. {slught smile}

* Honig hehs a bit. "Of course. Well, from what I hear, there's a party going on in Exec Gamma Grove, if you're so inclined. If not, get some rest. Either way, Checkin and Security Clearances are at oh-seven-hundred tomorrow. You'll get your badges, security cards, and equipment then."

{Gerald} Understood, sir. We felt it appropriate to let you know we were available if needed.

* Honig smiles slightly. "Thank you. It's good that we've got concentious officers on-board."

* Gerald yes, decides to resonate Honig, because the fatigue twigs.

## Gerald rolled 3d6 = 15 (6 6 3).

* Gerald rather miserably fails.

{Gerald} We wouldn't have been hired here if we weren't eh, sir? {small wry smile, looking a bit fatigued himself}

* Honig doesn't notice the resonating! Then again, he wouldn't notice if he was fully areare, either. "Of course not." He smiles. "Anyway, dismissed, both of you."

-} *R-Type* and as they head out of the office and get ready to head back down, feel free to have Brian coming off-shift. ;) This is before all the fun with the party.

*R-Type* zzzzzz-wha? glrb. right.

{Gerald} Understood. Good night, sir.

* Gerald smiles, salutes again, and heads out.

* -} R-Type: Honig apologizes! ^_^; ^_^

* Ripley follows, looking around.

{Gerald} So....will you be going to the party?

*R-Type* Well, anyway, I guess he can emerge from the nearest locker room. *wg*

* There are lots of places around the circular Security Level that are labeled. There are also lots of places that have security keycards. There are also ones that aren't security keycarded... like Locker Rooms.

{Ripley} Of course. How best to get to know everyone? {slight smile}

{Gerald} True. {drops voice} Take care. Some partygoers might use what information they can get on you to their benefit and your detriment, though...

* Gerald's eyes flick to Ripley's, pointedly.

{Ripley} {q} I am aware of that, sir. But if we don't meet others, we can't do our jobs. That being said, should we meet our family friends?

* About then the door to that one locker room opens and a man emerges. His appearance is probably familiar to Gerald.

{Gerald} {q} I know. I am paranoid though. And will probably opt out to detox the rest of the drugs and to rest. {wry smile} {blinks, and looks up} for family friends...

{Ripley} Mm?

* Gerald blinks over, looking like a newcomer meeting a regular of the section. "Good evening?" He looks....rather possibly familiar himself, save his hair is cut much shorter than before.

* Brian adjusts his jacket and notices the other two, a look of recognition coming into his eyes. "Ah, evening. New here?"

{Gerald} Just off the shuttle. And out of the recovery ward in my case. {wry smile} Gerald Naismith.

{Brian} Brian Scheurs. Nice to meet you.

{Gerald} You as well. {slight smile} I ah....well, we met with Mr. Honig, but we're not officially on duty as of yet. Is there anything of note we ought to know about the Security level before then?

*R-Type* hrm... what'd be a good thing to point out?

* A flyer-bot flires past the group in the open-air between the inner and outer-cylinders.

-} *R-Type* Like don't get spooked by the 'bots? especially the armed ones? :)

*R-Type* heh :)

* Gerald blinks, flicking his eyes to watch it. "Like...ah...the local fauna?"

{Ripley} Howdy, sir. John David Ripley. {grin}

* Brian looks after it, more wryly. "Yeah, there's a lot of those things buzzing around here. I don't think -bacteria- can get in here without an authorization. And pleased to meet you too." *wg*

{Gerald} Right. {wry smile} Any words of advice for newbies?

{Brian} Well, definitely don't get spooked by all the bots we have out here. 'specially the armed ones. *wl*

{Gerald} Riiiiight.... {wry look}

{Ripley} No problem. {grin}

{Brian} And I dunno if either of you is into religion much but Father Deitricht is a great person to talk to if you ever have any problems. *g*

{Gerald} Oh....good. A man of the cloth tends to keep confidences, yes. {wry smile}

{Ripley} Is he Catholic, sir?

{Brian} Indeed he is. One of the most objective people I've ever had the fortune to meet.

* Gerald mumbles something wry about never knowing Catholicism and objectivity going together under his breath.

* Brian hehs a bit, apparently having heard that, if only vaguely.

* Gerald looks faintly sheepish. It somehow seems to be very wrong on him.

{Brian} Well, I probably shouldn't keep you here; if you just got in you probably need a little more recovery time. *wl*

{Gerald} It's all right. Hopefully actual orientation will be had tomorrow.

* Brian nods. "The Chief's a good man, he takes care of his own and he'll tell you everything you need to know." *check watch* "Hm. As for me, I'm expected down below, so I'd probably better get to it." *wl*

{Gerald} Right. Good day, Brian.

* Ripley is being very quiet.

{Ripley} Good to meet you, Brian. Thanks for everything.

{Brian} "Good day to you too. See you both on detail, if not elsewhere." *waves, and heads for the elevator*

{Gerald} Understood. {slight smile, then watches him go}

* Gerald sighs and leans against a locker, looking a bit tired.

{Ripley} {q} You're not Catholic, then?

{Gerald} {q} Nominally. It wasn't meant as insult. {glances around, obviously rather paranoid}

{Ripley} {q} I... see. No, t'wouldn't be, would it. Let's go, then?

{Gerald} {w} It was meant as minimizing, disconnections, in case there are listeners. {louder} And yes.

* Ripley nods, looking relaxed. "Mm. Food?"

{Gerald} Food yes. Then I'm going to likely spend the night resting up.

* Ripley nods. "And I'll party like it's 2499!"

{Gerald} Oh, good. {pause} I seem to have no life.

{Ripley} I was going to say, sir.

{Gerald} Self-knowledge is an ugly, ugly thing.

{Ripley} It could be worse.

{Ripley} It could be raining.

{Gerald} ...This is true.

{Ripley} So! Let's go go go! So many things to do! So many things to see! We're in *space,* Gerry! Let's grab hold and have fun!

{Gerald} {m} *Gerald*....

* Gerald heads after the charging of the Ofanite.

* And as the elevator ascends to ferry the twosome back down to the bottom of the security level... we Fade.

In Nomine 2070