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[Tarska]

A salty sea breeze blew along the shores of the Orestes Kappa Skyport, prompting the blue-skinned figure manning the watchtower to bob his head forward, soaking up as much of the moisture as he could. He sighed gustily, relaxing again... then paused, spying something in the air ahead of him. As it grew closer, he picked up a pair of brass binoculars, aiming it towards the speck in the heavens. Several moments later, he began to wave a red and white flag furiously, signalling the docks below. He relaxed once he saw a return signal, and went back to his dozing patrol.

The Lady Luck dropped rapidly out of the sky, barely slowing as it approached the water. Shaped vaguely like a cricket, its metal-shod hull gleaming black in the sunlight reflected from the broad expanse of sea below, it seemed far too heavy for the tiny wings that looked to be keeping it aloft. Less than twenty meters from the water, however, the same fibrous wings pulsed once, then twice, slowing the ship's descent rapidly with each burst of light. By the time the underside of the ship touched the water, it made no more of a splash than a stone skipping across the water. The Lady Luck skimmed over the surface towards the docks, and slid smoothly alongside the boardwalk before slowing to a halt. The antennae jutting out from the foredeck swung forward, catching on an overhanging boom and wrapping around, anchoring the giant cricket in place; with a keening, chirping wail, the wings lowered and settled over the ship's back, the light leaving them as the ship powered down.

Not a moment too soon, a broad door set into the thorax of the ship rose, revealing a rowdy bunch of roughnecks, all crowding around and waiting for the gangplank to deploy. The only unifying factor amongst them - who were more diverse in build, gender, and species than most ship crews - was that each wore someplace on their person a red bandanna, marked with three black stripes - the mark of Tarska's Raiders. More than a few people along the docks, seeing that bandanna, made themselves scarce; those who didn't were rubbing their hands eagerly, thinking of the potential profit to be made here.

"Shaddup, you punks!" roared a deep, bellowing voice, and the crowd went silent in a heartbeat. The leader of the space-faring brigands pushed his way to the front of the hatch, setting one heavy-booted foot on the lip of the gangplank. His voice was stern, but a huge grin split his ugly, sallow face, and his clean-shaven head stood almost two hands over everyone else. "I know yer eager fer some action, but just 'cause we had it easy last haul, don't think you c'n act like rotters here! This is shore leave, not a raid! You make a mess? You clean it up! If I gotta pay fer it, I'm takin' double offa yer pay. You got me?!"

There was a murmur of agreement, following which Tarska shoved with his foot, kicking the gangplank out towards the dock. "Then off wit' ya, so we can get some work done in peace! Y'got three days, no more 'n that!" The rest of the crew waited only long enough for the gangplank to hit the boardwalk before making themselves scarce, scattering out into the port with eager whoops and shouts.

"An' maybe I'll get done th' 'ccountin' quick enough t' have some leave m'self..."

[Kierns Akers]

Kierns Akers, Chief Engineer of the Lady Luck, couldn't help but smile as he heard the boss bark out orders to the crew. Though he was looking forward to getting some fresh air, he felt he'd stick out like a sore thumb alongside the others; so while he waited for a good time to leave, he had begun busying himself with running diagnostics on the ship's core.

Indeed, Kierns seemed to be the complete opposite of the brigands that made up most of the crew. Looking to be in his mid-twenties, he seemed too harmless to even be part of the whole operation, yet the red and black bandanna he sported around his left upper arm said otherwise. He had short blonde hair that seemed to gravitate into a somewhat unkempt spiky mop.

As he stared at the panelled wall that concealed the ship's many electrical systems, it quickly became obvious where Kierns' utility lay; a quick gesture brought up a network of blue/purple circuitry that hung in thin air before the wall. After a moment of consideration, he lightly tapped the air in front of him, and a small part of the circuitry lit up in red; upon seeing that, Kierns sighed and got to work on the repairs to the energy converter, which had no doubt been damaged during the recovery of the jettisoned cargo.

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

Safe at his station in the engine room, Kierns watched the visuals from his console screen that were being displayed simultaneously on the bridge's main screen. He had almost tuned out the boss' announcement to the ship before them that they were about to be boarded; after hearing it that often, he practically knew it by rote, and he was simply waiting for any orders from the bridge. All he had been concerned about was the class of the opposing vessel as well as their firepower; seeing as they were but a standard Empire-class merchant vessel, he was confident that the crew would have no trouble with the raid, and all he'd have to do was make sure the Lady Luck's weaponry was good and charged.

Kierns blinked when he saw the ship's bay doors open, and he leaned forward with his hand over the weapon deployment mechanism in anticipation of Tarska's orders. He relaxed, however, when he saw about two dozen shipping containers fly out of the back of the ship. As he ship sped off in the opposite direction, a disappointed groan echoed through the ship when they saw that they had an easy haul.

Easy for them, that is... once he saw the cargo moving aimlessly through the ether, he knew that he and the other few Wavemasters aboard the ship would have their work cut out for them.

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

Kierns was a rare commodity to any ship's crew; born on Risidor III, a storm planet on the outer reaches of the Empire that had an electrically-charged atmosphere that made it nearly impossible to enter or leave the planet, the young engineer had a talent for Artifice -- the ability to see, repair and dismantle mechanical devices with but a moment of concentration. Though he did his best to hide it from everyone but the crew of the Lady Luck, his violet eyes -- a trait that all Risidorians shared -- could betray him to any observant party. Thankfully, Tarska kept him mostly out of harm's way; Kierns knew that the boss saw his attempt to stowaway aboard the ship as an incredible stroke of luck, even though it seemed for a while that he'd be jettisoned out into the ether.

With the crew mostly gone from the ship, Kierns was able to conduct his repairs in peace. He was done in about an hour, and after stretching to work the kinks out of his stiff muscles, he left the comfort of the engine room to see if there was anyone left on board.

[Tarska]

The ship was largely deserted; even the less-enthusiastic crew members had taken the opportunity for shore leave when it was given. A noise from the cargo hold, however, alerted Kierns to the presence of two stragglers; Tarska, industriously sifting through a crate of ill-gotten booty, and Karmen, one of the bridge crew - communications and scanners, he thought - a blonde girl in a red vest and shorts who was taking notes from the boss.

"... and tha's it." Tarska picked up the lid of the crate he was looking at with one hand and clapped it down, rapping it once with his fist; magnetic seals along the edge locked into place, and there was a high-pitched hiss as it did so. "Y'know what t'do?"

"Yessir; find out what the market value is of our haul in this sector, and see what we can get rid of here."

Tarska smirked, his lower fangs showing. "Good girl. Don' work too hard; we got time t'kill, and you d'zerve a break too. Git off wit' ya." He shooed her off, prompting a grin and a sketchy salute from Karmen; she sauntered out of the hold, nodding to Kierns as she went. Tarska watched her go appreciatively, though he scratched a bit self-consciously at his ear once she was gone.

"Y'look like you need a rest too, kid. Any problems?"

[Kierns Akers]

Kierns smiled nervously at Karmen; he hadn't gotten to know her very well, but he'd never had any issues with her. He couldn't help but stare after her for a moment before turning to Tarska.

"Nope, no real issues. Just wanted to take care of stuff while it was quiet." Kierns stuck his hands in his pockets and looked around the hangar; everything that they'd tractored in seemed to be there, and more. "Good haul?"

[Tarska]

"Good 'nuff fer me," Tarska responded with a shrug. "I tell ya, tho', I'm gettin' worried 'bout stickin' around this sector. We got too much of a rep, if people are willin' to dump their cargo jest 'cause of our name. I oughta check t'see what the bounty's at now; some punk might come gunnin' fer us. I kin deal with Imperials; I don' like bein' chased by every two-bit bounty-hunter in a sector."

Tarska glanced back at the cargo, then grinned ruefully, teeth showing again. The boss had never been open about his ancestry; he called himself a half-orc, and in brief moments like this one there was enough of what a generous person might call 'boyish charm' behind his jowls to suggest that was the truth. Most of the time, though, he looked far uglier than even the few other half-orcs who had been a part of the crew at one time or another.

"Ahh, 'nuff of that, the boss ain't s'posed to be that nervous. We'll dump as much cargo as we can here and hightail it outta th' sector, find some new fish t'fry. An' in the meantime, yer comin' drinkin' wit' me."

Tarska claps a meaty hand on Kierns' shoulder, his grin widening as he turned the engineer around to face the doors.

[Kierns Akers]

Kierns nodded at Tarska's words -- it wasn't the first time that he'd heard the boss say that, and he wasn't at all surprised. Tarska's Raiders had gained a bit of notoriety, and that wasn't necessarily a good thing.

Tarska said:

"An' in the meantime, yer comin' drinkin' wit' me."

"I am?" was the only thing he could blurt out, and before he could protest, he found himself led away...

[Southpaw]

The bar was... well, what one would expect of a bar in a port town, no matter what part of the universe one found himself in. It was a dimly lit affair, the air filled with the smell of the salty sea, alcohol, and smoke. It was a hole in the wall, sure, but it was at least a respectable one, frequented by all shapes and sizes of beings from any and everywhere in the galaxy.

Sitting at the bar was one such figure, broad shouldered and covered in black fur. He was readily recognizable as an Ursaren from Arctus VI, wearing a pair of expensive looking shades and black leather vest; dark blue trousers and black boots covered the bearmorph's lower half. A cigar was wedged in the huge man's teeth, and a mug was held loosely in his left paw. Seated squarely in the middle of the bar, no one seemed to bother--or for that matter, notice--the drinking, smoking ursine. He certainly wasn't the oddest sight in the room.

He only looked up from his drink when something attached to his belt rang. He quietly picked it up and, without looking at it, clicked a button on its surface, shutting it off before stowing it back on his belt. ...hmph. Let them call all they want. I'm on vacation.

[Tarska]

The door to the bar slammed open, held in place by Tarska. He took a lingering glance over the interior, taking in the environs and clientele. After a moment, he grinned toothily and nodded once, stepping inside. "This'll do. C'mon, kid, le's get ya plastered."

The half-orc occupied a barstool at the bar and slapped the counter roughly. "'ey, barkeep. A couple rounds o' yer best rotgut, an' some meat t'go wit'em." He left room to his right for Kierns; the ursaren at the bar was on his left, though with an extra stool between them.

"Hey, what's keepin' ya?"

[Kierns Akers]

Kierns slipped onto the stool to the right of Tarska; he was taking care not to make eye contact with anyone, though it wasn't clear to the casual observer whether it was because he was completely out of his element or something else. He sighed under his breath as the boss ordered food for the both of them; it's not that he disliked the boss' company, but he really wasn't a "people" person. Given the choice, he'dve much rather had a drink with him aboard the Lady Luck, but he knew how low their stores were.

Kierns glanced at the big, burly brute of an Ursaren that was sitting near Tarska, but he stopped himself from staring too long at him.

"So what's my budget for parts?" he asked in as casual a tone as he could as he turned to the boss, resting his right arm on the bar and trying to look as natural as he could.

[Southpaw]

However long Kierns took to stare at him seemed to be just enough to catch the Ursaren's attention. His brow rose as he appraised Kierns, and then the half-orc next to him. He merely grunted in response, muttering something gutteral and clearly not in any common tongue--presumably the Ursaren language. His free paw adjusted his shades and he turned back to his drink.

...huh. ...you've got to be kidding me. I'll bet that's what that call was for. ...Gods be damned. He shook his head and looked up at the bartender, waving him over with a paw. ">I think I'll need something stronger than this.<"

(Note: I'm putting anything he says in Ursaren in >these<. )

[Tarska]

"I don' even know fer sure what th'haul's worth, an' you want me to give you a budget? I oughta wash yer mouth out with beer."

Tarska glowered at Kierns, but the young engineer knew his boss' tone well enough to know he didn't mean ill; all things considered, it was a gentle rebuke from a man known for throwing people across rooms when they annoyed him.

The conversation was, briefly, interrupted by the arrival of food and drink; Tarska tore off a huge hunk of roasted flesh from whatever haunch of meat they'd set in front of him, and washed it down with half of his mug of ale. The meat and mug set in front of Kierns were somewhat smaller, but no less rustic in smell, flavour, or presentation.

Tarska wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, glancing briefly at the ursine patron to his left when he growled at the barkeep; the bandanna he wore around his neck was oddly unspotted. "Why d'ja ask? What've you got in mind fer the Lady now?"

[Kierns Akers]

Kierns cringed a little when Tarska threatened him, but all he could do was laugh it off given that he's been threatened with much worse before. The sudden arrival of food was an excellent distraction, and he saw it as his ticket out of getting a mug of beer dumped on him. Compared to Tarska, though, he seemed downright civilized as he ate, even though he hadn't been given any cutlery either.

The growl-like words startled him, however -- he'd seen an Ursaren or two before, but he'd never specifically interacted with them. All he knew was that they were a force to be reckoned with, and that he was suddenly really happy that Tarska was acting as a buffer between them.
"Well," he started after taking a bite out of his meat, and he glanced again at the Ursaren before continuing, "We're in port, so we might as well stock up. And there's a few improvements I'd like to make here and there." The look in Kierns' eyes betrayed his reluctance over actually specifying what he wanted the parts for; he felt that the weapons systems could use a bit of work, and he wanted to increase the energy output to the turrets... not that he wanted anyone but Tarska to know that.

[Southpaw]

The bear's ears twitched occasionally as he listened to the exchange between the human and Tarska. He actually seemed to be smiling as he sat there, eyes focused on the newly refilled mug in front of him as if that was the only thing to which he was paying attention. There was no doubt in his mind that this was the Tarska of Tarska's Raiders. It wasn't often that one lucked into an active bounty, and it was even less common for this particular Ursaren to hesitate. He tapped one blunt claw on the bar in thought, taking in a deep breath and sighing at his lack of conviction.

The human's scent was a bit different than he was used to. He smelled like a techie, and his asking for parts only confirmed the suspicion. His eyesight might have been a bit sub-par, but his senses of hearing and smell more than made up for it. He looked down at the left side of his belt at the short, gray metal rod clipped to the side of his belt. ...mm. I have a BAD feeling about this one.

He looked up again, and his eyes met Kierns's. It wasn't as if he wasn't used to being stared at; the Ursaren as a whole didn't leave Arctus VI often, but it happened just often enough that their existence was generally known. He had a particular reputation even among his own, but he was trying to keep that one to himself. So far, it was working just fine.

"...yes?" The bear's accent was, like most Ursaren, very heavy and indicative of his native tongue; it sounded remarkably similar to Russian. He turned back to his drink, but his attention was still on Kierns, addressing the young man right through Tarska with a notably amused grin on his muzzle. Despite being affiliated with pirates, he seemed awfully innocent. "If you were wondering... no. I do not bite."

[Kierns Akers]

Kierns blinked and reddened in embarrassment when he saw that the Ursaren had noticed his staring. He silently cursed his lack of exposure to the other races of the Endless Sea for his gawking... not that he would've had much exposure at all to anything before he joined Tarska's Raiders, given where he came from.

"Erk... sorry, sir." Kierns said sheepishly as he turned to his drink, which seemed absolutely appealing at the moment. He took a gulp, and he nearly choked on the strange brew as it went down -- he'd expected something watered down, and this certainly wasn't. What the hell was in this stuff?

[Tarska]

Tarska didn't react as Kierns and the Ursaren had their little conversation, beyond taking a larger bite of his meat than usual; he wasn't in the habit of thinking that his crew couldn't take care of themselves, and that even extended to Kierns, who was (in his personal estimation) probably his least-capable crew member... in a fight. His talents were all in other areas, for which Tarska was more grateful than he had a habit of letting on. Kierns' wizardry with machines was worth keeping an extra-close eye on the kid.

So far, though, Kierns hadn't done anything to get him in actual trouble. The Ursaren wasn't unduly annoyed by the young Risidorian's behaviour... which in itself was a bit odd. Bears weren't exactly renowned for their even tempers. Just slightly wary, Tarska resolved to keep that muzzle in the back of his mind.

He had to laugh, though, when Kierns choked on his ale. "Go easy on th' grog, kid. Carolager ain't 'zactly easy on my gut neither." He clapped the younger fellow on the back heartily, helping to clear his lungs.

[Kierns Akers]

Tarska's claps only served to make Kierns cough even more, and it took about a minute for the young human to recover. Kierns eyed his drink warily, and he took a cautious sniff before even attempting to take another sip. The tangy, salty smell from the brew made him really happy that he'd done that, and he made a face as he pushed the mug aside.

"Not easy on your gut, hunh..." He couldn't help but smirk a little at Tarska's nearly empty mug, and he shook his head as he continued eating. The conversation about the weapon systems would have to wait until they were away from prying ears...

[Tarska]

Kierns Akers, on April 26, 2010 - 7:31 PM, said:

"Not easy on your gut, hunh..." He couldn't help but smirk a little at Tarska's nearly empty mug, and he shook his head as he continued eating. The conversation about the weapon systems would have to wait until they were away from prying ears...

"You ain't seen me order 'nother mug yet, 'ave you?" Tarska grinned widely, showing off the fangs on his lower jaw, and gnawed the rest of the meat off of the bone in front of him, washing down what was left with the remains of his drink.

The big half-orc seemed disinclined to move, but he was still keeping a surreptitious eye on the ursine bar patron - and he was better at that than Kierns was. He waited until the latter was nearly done with his own food before gesturing with his head towards the door.

"You wanna go crawl the strip, see what else they've got here?"

[Kierns Akers]

Tarska, on April 26, 2010 - 7:35 PM, said:

"You wanna go crawl the strip, see what else they've got here?"

"Yeah, sure." Kierns watched the boss leave a few drachmas on the bar and made his way out of the tavern, all the while being very careful not to make eye contact with the Ursaren...

[Southpaw]

He was aware he was being watched. The bear wouldn't have expected much less from the leader of Tarska's Raiders. Looking down at the communicator at his side again, he sighed, watching both Tarska and his smaller friend leave. He wasn't afraid of a direct confrontation--sure, Tarska was a little bigger than him, but that rarely stopped an Ursaren from starting a fight if he REALLY wanted to.

Sightseeing, huh? ...mm. Not a bad idea...

The barkeep wandered back over to the bear as the two made their way for the door, leaning against the bar as the bear's gaze tilted skyward. "Leavin' already, Lukai?"

"Uh huh. Duty calls." He chuckled, placing a few coins on the bar top. The barkeep sighed and shook his head.

"At least you're not startin' a fight this time," he said with a half-joking grin, scooping up the coins as the Ursaren stood up.

"I can't afford to buy you new barstools again." He turned and waved a paw, stuffing both in his pockets as he headed for the door. If I'm gonna do this... I guess I'd better go see what exactly I'm up against. His ship shouldn't be too hard to spot...

[Tarska]

Tarska wove through one of the open-air markets that lined the wharf; he kept an obvious eye on Kierns as he went, and a less obvious eye on the crowd behind him. After a while, he began to frown with some concern, only paying half-attention to whatever Kierns was babbling about.

During a lull in the one-sided conversation, Tarska grunted non-committally and gestured with his chin at the crowd. "I don't see our furry friend in the crowd. I don't think he followed us. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad one..." He scratched at his scruffy beard with concern.