[OOC: Backposting… responding along the way…]

Hearing the docking clamps lock into place, and seeing that Kora had everything under control, Asher leaned against the paneling for a moment to catch his breath and rally his wits about him.

He listened as the Doctor gave her report to the Captain. “Minor medical event in the engine room, Captain-san, but we’re shiny now. Just no hitting Asher on the arm for a while, or you’ll have me to face. Pardon the impertinence, but are we there yet? My stomach can’t remember which way is up.”

“What the hell happened so that he got himself broke?”
The kid winced as he heard the Cap’n’s voice, feeling as though he had let the man down. Ash grabbed the mic with his good hand to respond, “Blew a panel, Cap’n. Singed a few of my arm hairs along the way tryin’ t’ make things happen smooth, ya know. But Doc says it ain’t nothing…” A wave of pain shot up Asher’s arm, causing him to catch his breath before continuing, “…everything’s all shiny now.”

“Ta Ma Duh! (Damn!)” Visions of Roc falling apart around him filled his head. “Well, tell Kora she don’t have much time to get the patch on. I don’t want to be sittin’ on this spinning iceblock fer very long.

“Ash, git yerself all patched and meet me an’ Sam in the cargo hold pronto. The rest o’ ya, strap some iron for the duration. We’re preparin’ fer Tian Shia (Everything under the sky).”
“On my way, Cap’n,” the kids replied. Strapping on iron was the kind of adventure Asher lived for and the thought renewed his spirit a bit. He was about to leave when Willow spoke up.

"Asher, get yourself to the medical lab, please and thank you?”

Asher sighed as he looked upon the doctor’s angelic face. Willow continued, “I won't let you miss out on too much fun, but that arm needs more care if you want to be able to keep bending that elbow at any more bars."

“Awww, come on!” Asher started to protest, but was cut off by Willow’s “look”.

He tried to continue, “But this is the kinda stuff I live for. This is what I do!”

Still the “look.”

He pleaded with her once more, “But, you told the Cap’n everything was all shiny…”

Willow didn’t even bat an eye.

The kid sighed, “Fine,” and let out another sigh. “Fine, I’ll go! Just let’s make it quick or Dash is riding me about this for weeks.”

Willow nodded and headed out. Asher finished helping Kora tidy up as best he could before heading down to the med lab himself.

He had expected to find the doctor waiting for him, but the place was empty. He sat down in the chair and waited.

Probably telling the Cap’n I ain’t comin’ along ta play. Ta Ma Duh! (Damn!) The pain in his arm was beginning to throb again. Ta Ma Duh! Gorram fire!
Dash’s voice interrupted his internal rant. “Where ya at, Kid?” he called.

Where am I at?! Gorram it, you know, you…! The lad was so angry (and hurt (and scared)) his mind could even form the names he wanted to call the pilot. Dash knew damn well that the doctor had sent him to the med lab. Huen Dahn’s (Bastard's) lookin’ to rub it in…
Sure enough, Asher caught sight of the pilot peekin’ in.

“Ya a’right, Ash,” he asked, “not jus’ playin’ sick so’s ya c’n go roll ‘round in them sheets is ya?”

“Bi Jweh.(Shut up.)” Asher snapped back. “Think I like this?! Doctor’s holding me back, Ghu-Ghu. (big brother) While you and the Cap’n get all the glory. It’s dumb, ya know. I only need one arm ta shoot.”

“Don’ sweat it, Kid,” Dash winked, “Miss Will’s like ta have ya patched up in two shakes. Hell, it don’ even look that bad. Me an the Cap’ll save ya some fun if’n it comes ta that. Stay frosty, puhn yoh. I’ll bring ya back a hat er somethin’.”

“Chwee Ni Duh.” (Screw you!)

The Cap’n voice crackled over the comm. system as Dash strolled out of the infirmary. Asher just sat stiffly in the chair, the pain in his arm increasing. Gorram it! Where’s the sweet doctor at?!
[OOC: Moving to the scene of Willow fixing Asher up.]

It was amazing was a good doctor could do. It was even more amazing what a good-looking doctor could do. As tense and hurt and angry as Asher was before Willow arrived, the lad felt much of it leave under the care of the fine doctor. Her gentle touch, her soothing reassuring voice… even the smell of her perfume… all were like a balm that helped ease his pain and relax his mind.

He watched her pass the dermal mender across his hand and arm with a slow practiced motion, he felt the pinprick pain of nerve endings being repaired and the intense throbbing become closer to a dull ache. The wound was healing but very slowly.

After a while, Ash looked up at Willow. “I ain’t getting out of here any time soon, are I?”

Willow assured him this was normal because of it being a burn. Cuts and bullet holes are easier to mend if there ain’t no vitals hit. Burns however, required a slow patient hand.

“I’m still gonna be able ta shoot with it, though, right?”

“Kid’s a might broke up ‘bout not bein’ able ta come along, Cap,” Sam said as he ambled along the gantry, “Doc was right ta keep ‘im aboard, much as I hate ta say it, th’ boy’s arm din’t look good.

I reckon if that’s th’ worst o’ what we get, though,” he continued as they waited for the doors to open, “Th’ rest o’ this run oughta be… Sweet Mother o’ li’l baby Jesus!” Like Wyatt, Dash squinted against the unexpected sunlight and was so taken aback by the illusory farmstead that he actually looked back to make sure that Rocinante was still tethered at the far end of the gantry. It didn’t seem right that this bucolic scene should be floatin’ ‘round in the Black all by it’s lonesome, no matter how good that breeze felt and…Ta ma duh, are those fresh tomatoes?...

Sam realized that his hand had settled on the grips of his pistol as he strolled out into the holographic landscape. Don’t seem right, neither, that there ain’t no folk here ta meet us, he thought as his gaze panned across the prairie farm and sought out the other docking coupler. The illusion inside the dome made it impossible to see outside but, judging by the indicators on the gantry door, there wasn’t another ship tied to the other side… yet. Wonder if Griff sent a wave ta these yahoos makin’ ‘em privy as ta th’ change o’…
*Blamm…ting…thuck!*
“Dash hadn’t reacted as calmly to being shot at as Wyatt had… The pilot had skittered to the side a step or two and the Avenger was no longer nestled in the holster lashed to Sam’s thigh. Instead, it was in his hand at arm’s length; hammer rolled back, and the barrel sweeping a slow arc around the place in tandem with his narrowed gaze… (Perception>Sight roll if’n ya please… trying to see if Dash sees where these yahoos’re hidin’…)

“Hold steady, Sam,” Wyatt said under his breath.

Sam’s eyes slid sidelong towards Wyatt and took in that the Cap hadn’t skinned his own iron. Hold steady, my nethers, Dash wanted to say, Some chwen’s shootin’ at us! Despite that thought, though, he offered an almost imperceptible nod and, after a moment, tentatively lowered his pistol. “Yeah,” he breathed, still surveying the farmstead, “right…”

“WHO THE AI YAH TIEN AH ARE YOU?” a voice shouts out from the homestead.

“AND STAY OUT OF MY MATERS!” another voice calls.

“Shoot at me agin, humpface, an’ I’ll blow out yer knee an’ make ya watch whilst I piss on yer maters,” he grumbled under his breath, risking a glance in Wyatt’s direction again. Sung had let his hand drift away from his own pistol and, even though he really didn’t want to, Dash decided that actually returning the Avenger to its holster might just make negotiations go a might smoother.

He sighed, stuffed the weapon back into place on his hip, and assumed a less threatening posture of his own. “Twitchy gorram prospecters,” Dash groused before hooking his thumbs over his gunbelt and spitting in the illusory dirt…

“Name’s Wyatt Sung, an’ I captain Rocinante here,” Wyatt called back, “Picked up some containers from Griffith on Beaumonde…”

“Who ‘parently din’t have th’ wherewithal ta send a wave ahead,” Sam appended quietly.

“…Griffith an’ Royale. We were told that the Lullaby Mine had some ice that needed transport to Regina. Who’s throwing lead our way, so that I might address them that be proper…”

“I’ll address ‘em proper,” Dash smirked, still only loud enough for Wyatt’s ears to catch, “lobbin’ lead in my direction over some ruttin’ t’matoes…Chwee ni duh… Sumbitch.”

“…After all, it ain’t considered polite to keep hollerin’ less you know who yer hollerin’ at.”

There was more that Dash felt could have been added to the Cap’s end but, seeing as Dash’s brand of negotiating hadn’t really helped in the past, he kept it to himself this time. He did offer Wyatt a wry grin and an appreciative nod; “Very diplomatic of ya, Wyatt Sung,” he chuffed, “Miss Will’d be proud.”

((OOC: Keepin’ the peepers peeled, of course… If Sam happens to spot either of the prospectors, he’ll be sure to point them out to Wyatt… He’s also keeping a fairly keen eye on the other docking coupler… otherwise, following Wyatt’s lead.))

“This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless”

A close friend had quoted her that once. It was a phrase from an ancient sonnet and as Kora stood atop the Rocinante looking back at the gossamer tail of the comet dissolve into oblivion, it resonated in her mind and brought back fond memories of an old corps friend named Shakespeare.

For several minutes she stood there mesmerized by the absolute wonder of it all. The only sound was her soft rhythmic breath resonating through the helmet and the gentle thump of her heart. She would have loved to linger had Trish not manually qued the mic to get her attention. The awe stricken engineer shook her head slightly at the mechanical click as if waking from a dream.

“I know Trish”, she sighed, as if she was a child being called in to dinner from the playground. “I’ve got work to do, but gorram... I wish you could see it from here” Sighing one more time, she gathered up her materials and headed to the underside of the Roc where ice from the comet had damaged two of the outer hull plates. Her movement was slowed by the clumsiness of the Grav Boots but even with that determent it didn’t take long for her to reach the damaged area. “hmmm” she said softly as Trish listened in, “looks like we have a couple of dents out here. They’re as close to cracked as you can get without being so. I’m gonna hafta replace these for sure.” She said, knowing that would be at least two more trips out here before she could call it a day.
“Trish” she said, “I’m pretty sure I have one backup panel. Would you please check for me? It will be in the aft most cargo bay horizontal storage locker.”
Trish qued the mic twice signifying “yes”.

While Trish checked on the extra panel, Kora busied herself taking the damaged ones off. But before she was even done prying the first off , Trish had returned and qued the mic. Kora stopped long enough to answer “Do we have one?” she asked hopefully. The answer was two clicks. “SHINY!” she said as condensation built up on the inside of her mask. “I’ll weld the other two to make a temp fix until we can get to Regina. Maybe there I can pick up some more supplies.”

The thought of Regina made her reflect once again on her comrade, Shakespeare. He had an odd habit of speaking in Shakesperean terms which drove most everyone crazy except her. She enjoyed his eccentricity and eventually they became more than just good friends. The last she heard, he had settled on Regina. When the team was disbanded, they had gone their separate ways. It had been only recently that she heard he had settled there and she was hoping to find him and get reacquainted if there was time.

She must have taken more time than she thought daydreaming because Trish qued her again.

“I’m almost done, just gotta gather up the pieces. Meet me at the airlock in five minutes” she said. “I’ve got some welding to do”

With the Captain
“If’n you say he should remain, then remain he shall, Doc.” Sung answered Willow, his tone mild. Tilting his hat to the little woman he gave her a soft half-smile. “I ain’t lookin’ for trouble Willow, just prepared for it. Whoever was on that other ship seemed hell-bent to run us out and paid it no mind when they put their burn to our nose. I’ll not play like that didn’t happen, but I’ll not start no conversatin’ that ain’t peaceable. I promise you that. Just tend to the boy and the rest,” he gave his coat pocket a tap. “I’ll let you know when your skills are needed.”

Willow watched the captain a moment, thinking that he worked that hat brim the way a burlesque dancer worked her feather fans; the way Willow herself used her eyelashes to reveal and conceal her thoughts. She blinked away the image when she realized that the Captain was waiting for her to respond, and she coloured slightly at her wool-gathering.

“It’s funny how often your idea of peaceable still ends in gunplay. Do have a care with yourself and Dash, Captain-san? I’m just one little doctor girl, not a whole emergency room, “ she concluded, her soft voice taking any unintentional sting from her words. She turned away and headed off to the lab to see Asher.

OOC: If she notices Dash, she’ll greet him warmly and make a teasing comment about flying a camel through the eye of a needle, a soft touch on the arm to let him know she’s joking.

With Asher in the med bay
(OOC: Absolutely priceless interaction back in the engine room, Blamm! You weaved in your reaction to Willow’s orders beautifully!)

When Willow glided into the medical bay, Asher sat on the edge of the table, cradling his injured arm and scowling fit to curdle milk. He was missing the “fun” and it was Willow’s fault. Waiting here while Dash and Sung got ready (with Dash rubbibg it in, no doubt) hadn’t helped.

“I’m sorry I took so long, Asher,” she tilted her head pleadingly and batting her eyes playfully,” normally, my men like the feeling of anticipation as they wait on me. Seriously, I wanted the Captain to know that I’m the one holding you back, not any hesitation on your part. So…let’s get to it, shall we?”

Willow smiled her brilliant smile and gathered her tools for the task at hand, laying them out on a wheeled tray. Scissors for the bandage, more anesthetic spray, dermal mender, fresh gloves. She took a moment to put on her labcoat, turn soft music on the comm, then told Asher to get comfortable. “Lying down or sitting up, just be prepared to keep that arm steady for a good long while, my dear.”

As she leaned in close to cradle Asher’s arm with her own, Willow felt the boy begin to relax, and she smiled to herself. Soft music, warm skin contact and a loving way were far better cures in her mind than any sterile cold medical office, and she was happy she was able to practice medicine her way. When Asher asked, “I ain’t getting out of here any time soon, are I?”, she looked up into his worried eyes and smiled warmly.

“Don’t you be rushing me when I’m working my magic, Mr. Tallhone. Cuts are easy, the flesh is still there, just parted and easily brought together again. Bullet holes aren’t even that tough, presuming there’s no damage to what lies beneath. But burns? That’s a nasty business. The flesh is gone, or badly hurt, and has to be replaced with good healthy skin that will stretch with you as you move. Burn scars are all manner of tight and rigid tissue that will restrict your motion for the rest of your life. Seeing as you’re young and unscarred so far, permit me the pride of an artist to get you back as good as I found you. “

Willow kept a soft patter of questions and answers as she worked, the slow path of the dermal mender spurring new growth wherever it’s rays touched healthy tissue. After a time (interval to be decided by the DM), Willow gave the area around Asher’s inner elbow one last pass, then looked at the burn area closely. The skin looked shiny pink, as if it had been sunburned, but it was new skin, tender and raw. When Willow was satisfied that it was a thick enough layer to heal properly, she set aside the dermal mender and re-bandaged the area. Finished, she ruffled Asher’s hair affectionately and patted his cheek as he sighed with impatience.

“There you go, my knight in shining new skin,” she laughed gently, “ have a care now and no scratching at the bandage. Here’s some vitamin E oil, “she handed the lad a small vial,” that you rub into it every morning and night. That will stop it from tightening up too soon and it’ll ease the itch, too. Now shoo!” She waved him away, eyes twinkling. “A girl’s got to get ready and has been dallying with a young man long enough.”

Willow tidied up the medical bay, putting everything back in it’s place. In an emergency, she wanted to be able to put her hand to an item without having to think about it or even be able to see it. When the bay was put back to rights and the detritus of healing disposed neatly, Willow returned to her room and got ready for the meet. A quick sponge bath, a little scent in secret places, and then on to selecting clothes.

Willow paused in front of her closet, towel draped around a tiny waist as she considered. She couldn’t be too lavish, this was a mine and looking too prosperous and exotic wouldn’t fetch a good price for what they’d brought. “Never negotiate looking like you don’t need the money,” she murmured to herself before selecting a multi-coloured kurti tunic and a long choli skirt, the skirt’s red and white picking up the roses in the tunic’s floral pattern. While colourful, the outfit lacked beading or embroidery, and was of a simple cotton silk weave. Turquoise slippers completed the outfit, matching the bangles on both arms. Willow sat down at her vanity to put up her hair with the butterfly pin and apply a touch of makeup while she awaited the Captain’s summons.

When a row and a ruction soon began. Lullabelle Mine, Main Entrance on Docking Coupler #2, 10:50 am LMT
"…Griffith an' Royale. We were told that the Lullabelle Mine had some ice that needed transport to Regina. Who's throwing lead our way, so that I might address them that be proper…"

"I'll address 'em proper," Dash smirked, still only loud enough for Wyatt's ears to catch, "lobbin' lead in my direction over some ruttin' t'matoes…Chwee ni duh… Sumbitch."

"…After all, it ain't considered polite to keep hollerin' less you know who yer hollerin' at."
Silence reigned on the scene of this standoff for awhile. Wyatt and Sam imagined that those in the homestead were conferring with each other and that was better than shooting at each other.

"I'm Jim Ryan and the man with a fierce love for tomatoes is Sam Hawkes. We be the owners of this claim and we ain't givin' to let it go without a fight. Now we's never heard of you or your other friend out there and we were expecting a different group of company. So I am a mighty heap of sorry if we are a bit ornery, but we've had jumpers before so we'd be cautious folk."

(assuming some reiteration of the fact Grif sent you)

Sam Hawkes yells out, "Why didn' the other captain send a wave or somethin'! How we'd know that you are who you say who you be?"

Dash arched a brow a flicked a glance in Wyatt's direction; "What inna hell d'they want; a gorram pedigree?" The longer he stood in this one spot, the more anxious he got. He knew he should let the Cap handle negotiations but, the way he figured it, there was a Griffin full o' se duhng that was likely itchin' to have words once they'd set their boat to rights and caught up, plus there was money to be made and if it wasn't made right quick, Sam had the feeling that he'd be washing dinner dishes for a long time to pay off that bottle of rum he'd snaked a couple of days earlier... diplomacy be damned. "If we was here ta jump yer claim, puhn yoh, I reckon we'd've shot back! Ain't hard ta figger as yer perched up there in 'hind that winda, an' i don' reckon it'd be none too hard ta put a slug in yer eye from where I'm standin'!

We's jus' here, pickin' up a job fer a friend as got 'is boat humped. We doin' business 'ere ain't we?"

Wyatt momentarily closed his eyes at Dash's rash answer. It was still salvageable though. Most men were tough and a little dirt in a wound wouldn't put them out.

"Ol' Griff was in a bit of a bind. Like my partner here said; his boat got humped pretty bad an' we jus' happened on the same port.

"Look, I can't conjure up why them other folk have put burn to dock at the Lullaby, but I know why we're here an' it sure as hell ain't to jump nothin'. The other ship showed no courtesy comin' in so I can't imagine they're up to anything good. Why don't we meet face to face an' you can see what we're about? I don't fancy the idea of us standin' here in the open when they come through that hatch. What's more is you got wares t' see to, and time is a precious commodity."

Jim couldn’t help himself but laugh. “The man has a point Sam!”

Sam didn’t answer immediately. The flashing light on the console of the cortex terminal had caught this eye. He moved over slowly, eyes still on the doorway and a glance at his tomatoes. He pressed the button.

“You…have…one…wave.” The unreal feminine voice chimed.

“Son of a …” Hawkes typed in his access code and hit enter. It was Bailey and encrypted vocal only as usual. He ran the wave through the speakers.

“Jim, Sam, this be Bailey Sachet. Just got word from the ship that was supposed to be heading your way. He ran into a mess of trouble so he sent another to come get the ice. Name is…. (background noise of paper rustling) Wyatt. Captain Wyatt Sung and … how the heck is that pronounced? Ross in naan tea. R O C I N A N T E. Well, whatever, just give them your best and get them on the way fast like, boys. We got a powerful need for that there ice. Oh … better tell them about the blockade as well. The Consortium is playing it hard so they’ll need to be extra careful.”

“Jim!” Hawkes yells out loud enough for Wyatt and Sam to hear, “They be good. Bailey sent a wave.”

“What? Why am I shooting at people if we got a wave?”

“I didn’t notice! I was eating breakfast and you put your coffee mug down in front of the cortex panel.”

Jim shook his head, “Did Bailey say anything about another ship?”

“No. Only this one.”

“What’s it doing?”

“Nothing. It’s adrift on the black”

Jim shouted through the window. “Well come on up gentlemen. You motives may be pure but I ain’t too sure about that other ship. We can offer you some nice home cooked breakfast and coffee as a way to make amends for our unneighbourly-like stance.”

Jim returned to the main floor but keep the rifle in his hand. ‘Sam! Keep an eye peeled on that monitor. If that ship approaches, I want to know about it.”


The Troubles with Denny
Maria Celestia, Drift in the Black 11:00 am LMT Denny Fulton tiptoed down the three way corridor junction and leaned in to listen. Sure enough there was still a racket of bouncing and breathing coming from Penny’s bunk so he took his opportunity to head the other way to the cockpit and his eldest brother.

“Lenny! We needs to talk.” Denny said, looking over his shoulder like Ernest would appear in an instance.

Lenny looked up from the console he was re-wiring, “What is it Denny?”

“We got a problem.”

“Tells me somethin’ I don’ts know.”

“No Lenny.” Denny re-emphasized, “We got a real problem.”

“What?”

“We are losing containment.”

“WHAT! WHAT DO..”

Denny covered his brother’s mouth to stop him from yelling, “It is small now, and venting outwards. No need to panic. But we can’ts fix it here. I need to be docked to shut down the whosit and the doohickey and I need gadgets and gizmos I plum don’t have on board. We need to be right neighbourly with those boys on the comet there.”

“Oh! Is that all!” Lenny pushed Denny’s hand away, “Mr. Ludlow ain’t the neighbourly type.”

“Well I can gets us to the mine, but we ain’st going anywhere fast after that. Mr. Ludlow be damned.”

“Damned will be us Denny!” Lenny started to pale frightfully, “I think that Mr. Ludlow plans to take this gentleman he’s seeking by force and I don’t think he’ll care about how many are dead in the process. On top of that, I am powerfully afraid that Kenny and Penny are goin’ to be part of the process.”

“What if we call them?’

“No. Communications are on the fritz. Like we’s being jammed.”

“This is bad, Lenny.”

“It sure is. Well, let’s get ourselves moving then before he starts asking. We play it coy Denny. Watch for an opportunity and hope for the best when the chips start to fall.”

“Lenny?”

“Yeah, Denny?”

“What if we’re the chips?”

Kora and Plates
Lullabelle Mine, Main Entrance on Docking Coupler #2, 11:10 am LMT
Kora moved the plate into position and slowly dropped in into the slot. The armour piece fell right in and she immediately began to seal it. If this was planet side, it would be hard work but the lack of gravity and coldness of space helped her. This was the easy part, after this she’d drag the old plate inside where there was atmo to use the cutter and wielder.

Peaceful as hard work was, Kora started to get that feeling. It was an in the gut type of feeling but she learned to respect it over time. She looked up and around. She could see the Griffin class was approaching. It was coming fast as it would have to to match the comet speed but that wasn’t what concerned her. There was something wrong with the ship. The way it moved, or the way it tilted – there was something off about it. As Kora finished the sealing she continued to watch the ship approach, trying to get a look at what was bothering her about it.

Then it hit her. They are venting. They have a containment breach
OOC: Trish is helping Kora and keeping an eye on her while she is topside. Asher and Willow will be done by 11:20 LMT, giving Asher enough time to get his gear and get outside before the Maria Celestia docks (ETA 11:30). I will await everyone’s action up to that point, but you can post actions up to the MC docking.

“Well, come on up gentlemen. Your motives may be pure but I ain’t too sure about that other ship’s. We can offer you some nice, home-cooked breakfast, and coffee, as a way to make amends for our neighborly-like stance.”

Wyatt gave a quick nod as though confirming what he’d already assumed would happen and smacked Sam on the arm with the back of his hand as he stepped forward.

“Guess that’s Diplomacy one, Violence zero,” he said wryly as he proceeded on his way towards the prospector’s digs. He had to agree with the fellow who’d done the yelling (Jim was it?) that the other ship was more than a bit of an enigma, and Wyatt wasn’t too keen on surprises.

“Sam,” he said calmly as the two approached the building. “Don’t take nothin’ fer granted, and see if you can’t check on that other airlock every once in a while. I’ll do the same, an’ I know you weren’t likely t’ doze off on me, but it needed sayin’ none-the-less.”

As they reached the porch a tall, thin man stepped from within. He wore denim overalls and a red flannel shirt that looked to Wyatt as though they’d seen better days. He was smiling all easy-like and had a way about him that made Wyatt want to like him. It was a natural ease-setter, causing the captain to feel the symptoms of relaxing his guard stretch their wings, and that was dangerous. His hair was as much a mess as his clothing, but it seemed to fit, and Sung couldn’t help but think that this guy must be a hoot around a camp fire.

“Jim Ryan,” the man said, offering his right hand as Wyatt and Dash stepped onto the porch.

“Wyatt Sung,” the captain responded in an equally relaxed fashion. He let Sam do his own bit of introduction as he peered into what looked to be a fairly well-furnished establishment.

Once introductions were finished Wyatt lifted his hat from his head and ran his fingers through his hair to release it from the pressed-down nature it had taken form to. They were making their way inside and he figured now was as good a time as any to press the issue of the other ship.

“Jim,” his voice carried a near lazy tone to it; almost a drawl. “You made mention of havin’ trouble in the past with claim jumpers, so I’ve no doubt you and your partner know how to use a rifle, but I’ve got my own crew to be concerned with an’ this other ship… well, they come down in front of us and near skinned Rocinante with their burners like they was itchin’ t’ put us adrift in the Black, or at the very least; didn’t care. Now, in my book, that spells trouble.

“Now, this here’s your bit of dirt—er, uh, ice—an’ I won’t pretend that I’m in any sort of command over what’s yours, but I’d feel a might better knowing that we was pretty safe conducting our business and partakin’ of your hospitality what with my crew attached all precarious to the belly of a comet and all.

“Sides which, I got me a right hungry crew an’ I’m sure they’d love some parcels of something other than protein paste for breakfast if’n you’re offering.”

"Look,” Wyatt called back, drawing Dash’s gaze back from another check of the, as yet, un-occupied docking coupler, “I can't conjure up why them other folk have put burn to dock at the Lullaby, but I know why we're here an' it sure as hell ain't to jump nothin'. The other ship showed no courtesy comin' in so I can't imagine they're up to anything good. Why don't we meet face to face an' you can see what we're about? I don't fancy the idea of us standin' here in the open when they come through that hatch. What's more is you got wares t' see to, and time is a precious commodity."

“Ain’t that what I done said?” Dash grinned facetiously at his friend before looking back towards the house.

“Jim!” he heard one prospector shout to the other, “They be good. Bailey sent a wave.”

“Oh sure,” Sam smirked, “Now they get a wave. I reckon it takes a bullet er two ta get a clean connect ta the cortex out here.” There seemed to be some banter going back and forth between the two men up in the house; Dash could hear their voices but not clear enough to pick up more than a word or two every now and again… he flicked a glance back at the still unoccupied docking coupler as he waited for whatever might come next.

“…come on up gentlemen,” he heard, at last, “Your motives may be pure but I ain’t too sure about that other ship’s. We can offer you some nice, home-cooked breakfast, and coffee, as a way to make amends for our unneighborly-like stance.”

“Breakfast? Now tha’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bou…Ow!”

Wyatt gave a quick nod as though confirming what he’d already assumed would happen and smacked Sam on the arm with the back of his hand as he stepped forward. “Guess that’s Diplomacy one, Violence zero,” he said wryly as he proceeded on his way towards the prospector’s digs.

Dash grinned and offered a wink in reply. “You says tomato, I says tomahto, an’ th’ feller up yonder says mater, puhn yoh. They stopped plinkin’ at us one way er t’other, right?” He knew that Wyatt was right, of course, and that he’d probably have been better served if he’d just kept his mouth shut and let the Cap do the talking. With the way things had been going for them lately, though, Dash figured it was a good piece of luck that had actually kept him from returning fire.

“Sam,” Wyatt uttered calmly as the two approached the building. “Don’t take nothin’ fer granted, and see if you can’t check on that other airlock every once in a while. I’ll do the same, an’ I know you weren’t likely t’ doze off on me, but it needed sayin’ none-the-less.”

“Affirmative on that’n, Cap,” Dash nodded, his eyes tracking back to the airlock in question for an instant, “Jus’ cuz we’s playin’ nice wit’ these folk don’ mean I trust a gorram thing they say… I’ll be keepin’ a sharp eye til such a time as we’re off’n this ice cube.”

The fellow who met them on the porch wasn’t quite what Dash had been expecting. The guy looked like a miner, what with the dirty overalls and stained shirt and such, but he didn’t have that gruffness about him that seemed to be somehow common amongst folk as toiled in the mines…“Jim Ryan,” the man said, offering his right hand as Wyatt and Dash stepped onto the porch.

“Wyatt Sung,” the captain responded in an equally relaxed fashion.

“Dash,” Sam said, offering a nod in greeting as opposed to a handshake – Jim looked affable enough but that didn’t mean Dash wanted to hold hands with him; “Pleezdameetcha.”

“Jim,” Wyatt drawled, as they followed the prospector across the porch and into the house, “You made mention of havin’ trouble in the past with claim jumpers, so I’ve no doubt you and your partner know how to use a rifle, but I’ve got my own crew to be concerned with an’ this other ship…”

Mention of the other ship caused Dash to pause and look back towards the airlocks again, then, just for good measure, he allowed his whiskey-colored eyes to pan around the rest of the complex from this vantage point. Satisfied that the Maria Celestia, even if she had recovered from her spin-out, was likely still limping towards the comet rather than anywhere near being tied to it, Dash turned on his heel and clipped into the house to catch up with Wyatt and Jim Ryan.

“…I got me a right hungry crew,” the Cap was saying as the pilot ambled up, “an’ I’m sure they’d love some parcels of something other than protein paste for breakfast if’n you’re offering.”

“Di’ja say home cookin’?” Dash nodded enthusiastically; “Hell yeah, sign me up fer some o’ that, puhn yoh! Please tell me ya got eggs an’ sausage, Jim-bo!”

((OOC: Okay, just conversatin’ and scoping things out for the most part. Dash isn’t keen on sitting around here too long but he will cotton to a delay if there’s real food involved. If/when they do get around to eating, though, Dash will likely still be prone to wandering about while he’s munching and keeping an eye on the airlock and looking for anything “out of sorts” with the Lullabelle itself… Following orders as the Cap gives ‘em out, as well, of course.))

“…I got me a right hungry crew,” the Cap was saying as the pilot ambled up, “an’ I’m sure they’d love some parcels of something other than protein paste for breakfast if’n you’re offering.”

“Di’ja say home cookin’?” Dash nodded enthusiastically; “Hell yeah, sign me up fer some o’ that, puhn yoh! Please tell me ya got eggs an’ sausage, Jim-bo!”

Jim laughs heartily, “Well we’s don’t have sausage Dash-man, but we does have a side of bacon we can’t be keeping for fear of going bad, and The eggs come to us mixed, so you’ll have to like scrambled.” Jim looks over at the far empty airlock again, “But please bring your crew in for a bite. We ain’t had company for awhile and Sam gets tired of my talkin’ to myself. Them in the other ship will be a spell and if things get nasty then we are best in numbers. Any your crew not the fighting type, we’s got a basement, safe and snug.”

Sam comes up to shake hands as well, “Bailey Sachet, he’s your contact on Regina, well he hides some of the farm goods insides those containers which keeps them frozen. That’s hows we got good vittles here. Part of the payment for the ice the miners need so bad. Once we take them out and thaw them though, they start going fast, even in the icebox, so we have a feast and you’re timing was right. Yeah, it’s illegal to haul livestock and fresh fixins between worlds, but at absolute zero there ain’t much fear of contamination. I’m sure you’s folk don’t mind partaking in a little under the law action.”

(Assuming Wyatt will call the crew to the house. Breakfast is already served and they have a lot of food, since they were being honest about cooking it up before it could go bad.)

Entering the homestead, the southern side doorway leads to an open concept main floor with you stepping into the living/recreation room. The place is remarkable clean and tidy for two men living alone. It will become apparent that Sam is the neat one that cleans up while Jim is the cook. The furniture is soft and comfortable, consisting of a long corduroy covered couch, L shaped that would fit five around a low coffee table. The table has a pile of magazines on it, some mechanical and a few girly types at the bottom. Sam will hasten to remove these if the lady folks come in. There is a hatchway to the basement in the floor near the centre of the west wall, and a stairways up to the second floor directly across against the east wall. The windows are all holographic with inside shutters.

On the other side of the main floor is the kitchen and dining room. The kitchen is on the right (east) and dining room on the left. They have a nice kitchen with an actual gas burning stove and a small refrigerator unit. The place smells of cooked bacon and coffee. The two prospectors bustle around to bring out food and coffee for everyone. There are scrambled eggs, a smoked side of bacon sliced into strips, toast, fruit compote, apple cider and coffee with milk and sugar. Sam will bring out sliced carrots, tomatoes and fried potatoes with onions.

If anyone needs to use the “facilities” it is upstairs. There are two bedrooms, one is neat and one is very messy. The bathroom contains a proper chemical toilet (turns poo into fertilizer) and (gasp) a shower stall with hot and cold water.

OOC: You will be gathering, socializing and eating for 35 minutes before the warning signs of Maria Celestia docking comes on. Feel free to post conversation or questions to jim and Sam, and I will backpost.

Jim laughs heartily, “Well we’s don’t have sausage Dash-man, but we does have a side of bacon we can’t be keeping for fear of going bad, and The eggs come to us mixed, so you’ll have to like scrambled.” Jim looks over at the far empty airlock again, “But please bring your crew in for a bite. We ain’t had company for awhile and Sam gets tired of my talkin’ to myself. Them in the other ship will be a spell and if things get nasty then we are best in numbers. Any your crew not the fighting type, we’s got a basement, safe and snug.”

Sam comes up to shake hands as well, “Bailey Sachet, he’s your contact on Regina, well he hides some of the farm goods insides those containers which keeps them frozen. That’s hows we got good vittles here. Part of the payment for the ice the miners need so bad. Once we take them out and thaw them though, they start going fast, even in the icebox, so we have a feast and you’re timing was right. Yeah, it’s illegal to haul livestock and fresh fixins between worlds, but at absolute zero there ain’t much fear of contamination. I’m sure you’s folk don’t mind partaking in a little under the law action.”

Wyatt was absolutely certain that he didn’t care a whit about transportin’ cargo he wasn’t aware of what it fully contained. He’d heard plenty of stories about transport ships being blown open in the Black because the cargo had been unstable, but they hadn’t known. While his ire rose almost immediately at the news he swallowed it just as quickly, for the fact was that the cargo weren’t hostile and they’d get some good eats out of it. With a nod, Wyatt reached in for his com unit and placed it up against his ear.

“Roc, why don’t ya all come on down to the spread for a bite t’ eat. Step lightly folks, we don’t want t’ ruin Sam’s tomatoes.” As the radio squelched he hoped they caught the drift. He didn’t want no one leaving Roc without some sort of weapon… anyone except Willow that is. He didn’t think he could remember a time she’d strapped on.

Sung tries to position himself in such a manner so as to be able to see the other airlock, if at all possible, and tips his hat back. “So, Jim, I don’t mean t’ be rude, but yer not plannin’ t’ pack nothin’ un-ice-like in what we’re packin’ out are you?”

Willow let the lipgloss wand slide along her lower lip, it’s light touch leaving a hint of shimmering peach colour and scent in it’s wake. She pressed her lips together to seal the colour, and smiled approvingly in the mirror. Sensible clothing, understated floral perfume, muted makeup and simple lipgloss; all good choices for a morning meet. She wasn’t sure how many miners awaited them, but it would not do to cause too much of a stir with provocative dress.

“Unless I did want to cause a riot, hmm?” she asked Buddha, who declined to answer. She’d just finished setting the butterfly pin in place among coils of raven hair when the comm sounded with Wyatt’s summons.

“Roc, why don’t ya all come on down to the spread for a bite t’ eat. Step lightly folks, we don’t want t’ ruin Sam’s tomatoes.”

“Umm…tomatoes!” murmured Willow as she hastened to climb the ladder from her room to the decking. She thought of the firm yet yielding flesh and the explosion of flavour and juice hidden under the serene red skin and shuddered with anticipation. For the most part, food was food to Willow, but anything fresh from a garden was delightful, and some select delights, such as tomatoes, were positively carnal.

With sparkling eyes and a secret flush on her cheeks, Willow swept into the kitchen in search of Trish. When Trish turned to face her, bare faced and still in her “shipside” clothes, Willow’s smile faded. “You’re not coming with us, are you Auntie?” Willow asked softly, her eyes full of loving concern. “You are going to hide here, alone.”

Trish’s electric blue eyes met Willow’s and their careworn gaze spoke of pain and self-loathing. They challenged Willow to argue yet again, but the doctor could not, lowering her own eyes in acceptance. She had so hoped that the crew’s simple acceptance of Trish would help to heal the inner scars, but it was too soon. As Trish turned away to busy herself with some needless task at the kitchen counter, Willow came to stand behind her, encircling the older woman in her arms. Reaching up on tiptoes to bring herself up to Trish’s height, Willow hugged the former beauty and whispered to her, soft lips brushing the scarred cheek with love,” If you always hide yourself away, no-one will ever get to see the beauty of your soul. That’s a gift none of us could live without.”

Trish leaned into Willow’s embrace for a moment, and Willow felt the heavy sigh more than she heard it. In the end, Trish shook her head again, and pulled away gently to resume her mindless polishing of an already spotless countertop. Willow gazed at the stolid back, still strong and unbent by time, then turned and walked away.

She made her way to the cargo door to meet Asher and Kora, eyes bright with unshed tears, but a toothy smile pasted firmly in place. “Come, my warriors,” she murmured, eyeing the various guns, knives and other deadly things strapped upon her companions’ limbs,” breakfast and fine company awaits.”

(OOC: Insert any light hearted bantering here )

Willow’s eyes widened briefly at the holographic prairie farm, but the scent of ripening tomatoes was real enough, and her mouth flooded with saliva in anticipation. She inhaled deeply, lashes lowering with delight, then continued on, determined to keep her mind on the task at hand.

They found Wyatt and Sam speaking with two of the miners, and Willow took note of their workman clothes that were still carefully cared for, even if one fellow was rumpled enough to have slept in them. The trio from the ship reached the group as Wyatt was speaking.

“So, Jim, I don’t mean t’ be rude, but yer not plannin’ t’ pack nothin’ un-ice-like in what we’re packin’ out are you?”

“Well, now, Captain San,” Willow interjected demurely,” you didn’t start discussing business without me, now, did you?” She peeked sideways up at the Captain, peering from under the brim of his hat, before extending her hand and turning the full power of her smile onto the two miners.

“I’m Willow Takahara, gentlemen. It’s my pleasure to meet you.”

The Meeting of Clans Lullabelle Mine, Outside the Homestead, 11:30 am LMT
So, Jim, I don’t mean t’ be rude, but yer not plannin’ t’ pack nothin’ un-ice-like in what we’re packin’ out are you?”

“Well, now, Captain San,” Willow interjected demurely,” you didn’t start discussing business without me, now, did you?” She peeked sideways up at the Captain, peering from under the brim of his hat, before extending her hand and turning the full power of her smile onto the two miners.

“I’m Willow Takahara, gentlemen. It’s my pleasure to meet you.”

Willow had her usual effect on menfolk, as Jim stopped what her was saying and stared at her in a rapturous awe. Sam finally cleared his throat and whacked him on the shoulder, ‘Jim? You’ll letting the space-bugs in.” he said pointing at his mouth.

“Huh? Oh!” Jim shook his head and laughed again, “I’m a sorry ma’am, but it has been a long while since me and Sam seen a woman,let alone two and a right purdy ones at that. Welcome to our home.” He extended his hand to shake Willows and caught Wyatt’s looking at him for an answer. ’Un- ice? Oh. Oh! Sorry about that. My train plum left the station without my luggage. No sir, noting unexpected in the load, and you can come out and watch us load every box if you’d likes. If bailey or I want you to smuggle for us, we’ll tell you and sweeten the deal.”

OOC: Proceeding inside. You may post conversation to the point of the docking warning then arrange yourselves to meet guests.

The Decoy and the Dastard. Maria Celestia, Main Cargo Bay, 11:50 am LMT
“ThanksforgivingmethisvestMr.Ludlowitisreallyneatand…”

“Yeah, yeah, slow down kid. Of course I’m going to give you my old vest. We partners right? Protect each other that’s what partners do.” Ernest patted Kenny on the back comradely like, “but I was thinking that the vest doesn’t protect the back too well. Now this varmit we are tracking, he’s a criminal and not adverse to shooting people in the back.”

“WellwhatshouldIdoMr.Ludlow?Icould…”

“Here,” Ernest smiled and offered the backpack that he was carrying in his hand. “Wear this. I filled it with scrap metal and plates and things. It will keep you safe.” The big man offered up the straps for Kenny to slip it on, then he turned the boy around and fastened the straps tightly, “Now don’t you be taking this off now. It will keep you safe boy.”

“YessirMr. Ludlowsor!I’llkeep..”

“Good. Good. Now remember, when we enter the place, they will know we are coming and they’ll think they got an advantage. So when we get through the airlock and the doors open, you got to be the point. You just run straight, and blast at the same time.” He reached into his pocket and showed Kenny an old photo of a soldier during the war. “But of you see this guy – stay away from him. Don’t shoot him or get near him, ya hear! I’ll take this guy out.”

“YessirMr. Ludlowsor!I’lldo..”

“Right. Now give me and your sis a few moments.” Ernest said, pointing to the hatchway doors to give Kenny a direction. Ernest adjusted his own vest and walked over to where Penny was standing with a rifle ad scope in hand. “You know how to use that thang?”

Penny smiled and held the rifle high, “I can crosshair a gopher at 40 yards and send its brainpan a scattering.”

“That’s good Honey. Glad you’re on my side then.” He showed her the picture, “This is our meal ticket, sugar. But his brainpan has to be intact.”

“Sure thang Honey.” she laughed, but then her face went serious like, “You’re not really taking Kenny out with you, are ya? You’re just trying to make him feel good but you ain’t gonna put him in a gunfight?”

‘Boy’s gotta learn a trade. I’ll do my best to keep him safe, sweetie. I gave him my old vest, and its always brought me home.”

“Yeah, but, Kenny ain’t all there, Ernest, Honey.”

“I know plenty of gunfighters that ain’t all there. Now no more about this. Let your bro make his own decision. Now get yourself ready baby. We be landing soon and I need to check my own gear” He kissed her had and passionately and then left her there to ponder her own thoughts.

Once in his room he pulled out his two marakovs, his long nose python, the Ac5 shotgun and his pride and joy – the modified gatling with grenade launcher. Then he pulled out spare clips, grenades and strapped on his plate vest. Then he took out his remote detonator and clicked it into the armed position. Then range was a mile, more than enough to set off the charges he put in the backpack. Mostly flash bang, concession and shrapnel – it was a dome atmo after all. Kenny was going to serve him very well. As for the other brothers, well, he was pretty sure that he’d have to kill the eldest, but the other two would serve him until they got planet side. Worse came to worse – he could fly this rig, or perhaps steal the other one that beat them to the rock. Fireflys were easy pigs to steal. But Ernest wasn’t big into planning ahead – ‘cause plans never worked out like he wanted. If he had to kill all except his man - he'd done it before and he'd do it again.

“…we’s don’t have sausage Dash-man,” Jim laughed, but we does have a side of bacon we can’t be keeping for fear of going bad, and the eggs come to us mixed, so you’ll have to like scrambled.” Jim looks over at the far empty airlock again; “But please bring your crew in for a bite. We ain’t had company for awhile and Sam gets tired of my talkin’ to myself. Them in the other ship will be a spell and if things get nasty then we are best in numbers. Any your crew not the fighting type, we’s got a basement, safe and snug.”

The pilot’s stomach rumbled expectantly when the miner mentioned bacon. “Bacon’s good as sausage, puhn yoh,” Dash grinned, “so long’s it’s th’ real deal an’ not no pressed from paste mi tian gohn. Hell, I reckon I’d eat dog-bacon just so long’s it’s real meat.”

His gaze shadowed Jim’s as the prospector looked at the still unoccupied coupler and he nodded when Jim mentioned having a secure basement for any non-fightin’ types as might be on the crew. That’ll work out jus’ shiny fer Miss Wil, he thought, almost chuckling when he imagined the look on the delectable Doc’s face if she actually had to skitter down the steps and hide in the cellar if the MC’s crew dusted up a ruckus, Course, that’ll leave Ma onna Roc all by her lonesome… Dash’s eyes ticked towards the coupler to which Roc was tied and he scowled a bit. If the Joo Bah Jeh’s aboard the Celestia got the notion to board Roc Trish’d be able to hold them with Bessy long enough for someone to come runnin’ but, if the bastards decided to get their paybacks outside the dome, Ma’d be humped worse than a Reaver in a Lovebot factory… Dash forced that thought aside when the other prospector showed up and made his own introductions.

Where Jim Ryan was tall and lean, Sam Hawkes was short and stout, and where Jim was more guarded with his neighborliness, Sam seemed a little more eager to offer up information that, in Dash’s opinion, one oughtn’t go offering to them as you just met. When the stockier man made mention of packing groceries in with the ice shipment, Dash smirked and flicked a glance at Wyatt, knowing that “secret cargo” wasn’t on the Cap’s “good luck” list… Dash didn’t care for not knowing exactly what he was flying around the Black, either, but he silently hoped that Jim and Sam’s method of getting their vittles wouldn’t spoil breakfast…Ain’t like they’s smugglin’ nothin’ as goes boom, after all… Jus’ eggs an’ bacon an’… Gorramit; enough with the talkin’! Let’s chow!
Wyatt nodded and pulled his comset from his coat. “Roc,” he drawled as Dash’s gaze traced from the Mutt-and-Jeff prospectors, to the still vacant gantryway, and, finally, to the slip where Roc was tethered, “why don’t ya all come on down to the spread for a bite t’ eat. Step lightly folks, we don’t want t’ ruin Sam’s tomatoes.”

“Er nuthin’ else, far as that goes,” Dash rumbled, returning his attention to the small knot of men.

“So, Jim,” Wyatt said, tipping his hat back a bit and shifting his position a bit, Sam guessed, to get his own gander at the docking facilities, “ I don’t mean t’ be rude, but yer not plannin’ t’ pack nothin’ un-ice-like in what we’re packin’ out are you?”

“Hope not,” Dash chipped in, “cuz if it’s food, it ain’t likely ta make it where it’s goin’, get me? An’ if it’s somethin’ else…” he smiled faintly and offered a little shrug, letting the remainder of that though go unspoken. Jus’ don’ make me lasso this comet agin, if’n there ain’t need is all.
“Well, now, Captain San,” Willow interjected demurely, as she sauntered up with the Kid and Kora in tow, “you didn’t start discussing business without me, now, did you?” She peeked sideways up at the Captain, peering from under the brim of his hat, before extending her hand and turning the full power of her smile onto the two miners.

“I’m Willow Takahara, gentlemen. It’s my pleasure to meet you.”

Willow had her usual effect on menfolk, as Jim stopped what her was saying and stared at her in a rapturous awe. Sam finally cleared his throat and whacked him on the shoulder, ‘Jim? You’ll letting the space-bugs in.” he said pointing at his mouth.

Dash chuckled at Jim and Sam’s reaction to Willow. He’d seen it before, of course, had even had that same reaction himself when she’d first come on board (and probably more than once after that, if he told the truth about it), but he always got a kick out of seeing other folk drool all over themselves at the sight of her.

“Huh? Oh!” Jim shook his head and laughed again, “I’m a sorry ma’am, but it has been a long while since me and Sam seen a woman,let alone two and a right purdy ones at that. Welcome to our home.” He extended his hand to shake Willows and caught Wyatt’s looking at him for an answer. ’Un- ice? Oh. Oh! Sorry about that. My train plum left the station without my luggage. No sir, noting unexpected in the load, and you can come out and watch us load every box if you’d likes. If Bailey or I want you to smuggle for us, we’ll tell you and sweeten the deal.”

“Howzat, Cap,” Dash grinned, “not only is these fellas hardworkin’ prospector-types but they’s not to dull onna business end o’ things neither.

Speakin’ o’ sweetnin’ the deal, Jim-bo,” he continued, rubbing his stomach, “Hows’bout that grub? I got a powerful rumblin’ stirred up in my gullet an’, if that other boat’s grease monkey’s even half as good as our Mei mei here,” inclining his head in Kora’s direction, “ I don’ reckon they’ll be long fer showin’ up… Ma always said; better ta tussle on a full belly.

Oh hey! Wil don’ eat meat nor eggs,” the pilot’s smiled broadened as he came to that realization, “Ya don’ mind if me an’ the Kid eats yer share, do ya, Doc?”

((OOC: Had to do something to catch up! Man, what a month! Anyhoo… Dash’ll be his “usual self” at breakfast – roaming around while he’s eating (checking the airlock when he’s able, of course), reaching across the table without so much as an ‘excuse me’, licking his fingers, burping… you know the drill… heck, he may even find one of Sam’s girly mags and flip appreciatively through the pages (nothin’ like a bit o light readin’ ta help th’ digestion)… He won’t be shy about asking for a “to go” plate for Trish, either.))

“Well, now, Captain San,” Willow interjected demurely, as she sauntered up with the Kid and Kora in tow, “you didn’t start discussing business without me, now, did you?” Wyatt caught her look and gave a slight shake of his head before she extending her hand and turned the full power of her smile onto the two miners. No business had been conducted. Wyatt had actually been politely warning their hosts not to try to pull one over on him… again.

“I’m Willow Takahara, gentlemen. It’s my pleasure to meet you.”

Willow had her usual effect on menfolk, as Jim stopped what her was saying and stared at her in a rapturous awe. Sam finally cleared his throat and whacked him on the shoulder, ‘Jim? You’ll letting the space-bugs in.” he said pointing at his mouth.

Dash chuckled at Jim and Sam’s reaction to Willow.

“Huh? Oh!” Jim shook his head and laughed again, “I’m a sorry ma’am, but it has been a long while since me and Sam seen a woman,let alone two and a right purdy ones at that. Welcome to our home.” He extended his hand to shake Willows and caught Wyatt looking at him for an answer. ’Un- ice? Oh. Oh! Sorry about that. My train plum left the station without my luggage. No sir, noting unexpected in the load, and you can come out and watch us load every box if you’d likes. If Bailey or I want you to smuggle for us, we’ll tell you and sweeten the deal.”

“Howzat, Cap,” Dash grinned, “not only is these fellas hardworkin’ prospector-types but they’s not to dull onna business end o’ things neither.

Speakin’ o’ sweetnin’ the deal, Jim-bo,” Dash continued, rubbing his stomach, “Hows’bout that grub? I got a powerful rumblin’ stirred up in my gullet an’, if that other boat’s grease monkey’s even half as good as our Mei mei here,” inclining his head in Kora’s direction, “ I don’ reckon they’ll be long fer showin’ up… Ma always said; better ta tussle on a full belly.

Oh hey! Wil don’ eat meat nor eggs,” the pilot’s smiled broadened as he came to that realization, “Ya don’ mind if me an’ the Kid eats yer share, do ya, Doc?”

Wyatt didn’t necessarily share his friend’s enthusiasm at the moment. The presence of the Celestia hovering on the edge of their current reality seemed to sour whatever appetite he had. He waited until the prospectors had made their way into the kitchen for preparation, and/or, were out of earshot before he took Kora aside by the elbow.

“How bad’s Roc lookin’?”

(OOC: assuming something casual about the damage.)

“How long afore we can git?”

(OOC: again, looking for a good answer… will alter the response if necessary.)

Wyatt nodded and released her arm. He hadn’t been holding it tight and for a moment had forgotten he was holding her at all. When he realized he was he felt an internal wash of embarrassment at manhandling a woman who could probably serve his liver up for supper. Outwardly, he was as calm as a desert dune in the noon-day sun.

“Ku,” he muttered. “I don’ wanna take away from your fun, Kora, but we desperately need Roc ready for action as soon as possible. I wanna get clear of this iceberg as soon as possible.”

(OOC: again, will add follow-up if need be.)

The conversation was over quick as Wyatt let his crew settle in to enjoy a meal. Converging on the kitchen he caught the sounds of bacon spattering in the frying pan and a wash of memories flooded his brainpan like a dry gulch being run with spring water. He could practically see Eden at the range, frying up his breakfast before the morning had broken. Summer was still asleep, having just suckled, and his beautiful wife was smiling over her shoulder at him while he sat and watched her work. He loved watching her work: that slim figure, even after childbirth, the natural curl of her hair, the roundness of her face…

The clattering of plates atop the table broke him from his reverie and he realized he’d been zoning into that dangerous world of memory for the duration of the preparation.

“Well,” Sam said, his voice filled with pride. “We gots some veggies, the bacon’s done right, some coffee, and eggs… veggies fer the lady,” he smiled and leaned back while everyone reached for plates.

Wyatt hung back, leaning against the wall and watching his crew go to work on the vittles. He wasn’t hungry at all now. He’d eaten the breakfast that Trish had put together, and while that was dancing with the memories he’d just had, he was fit for now. Taking a deep breath, he began to mosey about the kitchen, staying out of Dash’s way, and casually taking in the decorations, sparse as they were. Whenever he could without being too obvious, he’ll pause and stare out a window that gives him a nice view of the other door—the door that the Celestia would be docking at. After a time, he found his way back to the table and Asher’s seat. Placing his hands on the young man’s shoulders Wyatt leans down and quietly asks after his arm.

(OOC: will post follow up if necessary).

Giving the young man a pat on the shoulder Wyatt rises and nods his thanks to Willow for taking care of Ash just in time for the warning to sound.

Calmly looking over to Sam and Jim, Wyatt raises his eyebrows and tips his hat back with a flick of his finger.

“This is your home, boys. I ain’t about t’ tread on nothin’, but I gotta tell you I ain’t keen going out there with pants around my ankles, if ya catch my drift. So, unless you two have a right mighty urge to objectify, I’m gonna suggest me an’ mine take up someplace defensively proper with our iron skinned.”

Wyatt was only partially telling the truth. Fact was, he wasn’t going to wait for their OK.

“Dash, go high with Asher. Kora, you an me’ll stay grounded for the time. Willow, girl, stay outta sight for the time being. They got a basement you can shore up in unless we need you.”

Wyatt skinned his Colt and spun the cylinder, needlessly checking the rounds as he approached one of the windows that afforded him a view of the spread in the right direction—the shotgun would be for close quarter fighting. He placed himself against the wall and peered out the window, hoping beyond hope that someone in that boat needed to pee real bad and their waste dispenser unit was on the fritz.

(OOC: should the crew of the Celestia come out shooting, Wyatt won’t hesitate to return fire providing it makes sense. He’s not going to fire at extreme range for his weapon, and he’s not going to break glass if it isn’t necessary. If any of the crew gets shot, he’ll yell for Willow, but keep focusing on the threat. If he gets shot, he’ll keep focusing on the threat as he can, ignoring the pain if at all possible. If the call is to retreat, he’ll be the last out of the building, inviting Sam and Jim back to Rocinante and radioing ahead to get Trish on the alert. Should the bad guys go after Rocinante, Wyatt’ll shoot ‘em deader than a jack on a highway… if’n he can. He has no intention of letting people shoot up his crew, nor his paycheck, and he won’t hesitate to burn ‘em should they get in his sights.)

Willow asked her question of the captain while greeting the miners and noted Wyatt’s shake of the head out of the corner of her eye. She responded with the lowering of her lashes that was as graceful as any bow, and let her attention turn fully to the folk before her.

One was rumpled and cuddly, like a favorite child’s toy, and the tall one, well, he was just plain dreamy. Both were staring at her and Kora like Christmas had come early, and Willow basked in the glow of their admiration, for just that little bit of time.

Sam finally cleared his throat and whacked him on the shoulder, ‘Jim? You’re letting the space-bugs in.” he said pointing at his mouth.

“Huh? Oh!” Jim shook his head and laughed again, “I’m a sorry ma’am, but it has been a long while since me and Sam seen a woman,let alone two and a right purdy ones at that. Welcome to our home.” He extended his hand to shake Willow's and caught Wyatt’s looking at him for an answer. ’Un- ice? Oh. Oh! Sorry about that. My train plum left the station without my luggage. No sir, nothing unexpected in the load, and you can come out and watch us load every box if you’d likes. If bailey or I want you to smuggle for us, we’ll tell you and sweeten the deal.”

Willow gave a little smile and looked down demurely before looking back up at the man she now knew was Jim. “Gentlemen, you flatter us, but we don’t mind a little flattery, do we, Kora?” She took both men’s arms and let them lead her into the living quarters, exclaiming over hologram and the smell of the gardens. She noted the two personalities stamped on the living quarters and knew that it was just the two men that operated the place. Best behave yourself, then, old girl. Don’t want to cause any rifts between the two of them.
Speakin’ o’ sweetnin’ the deal, Jim-bo,” Dash interjected, rubbing his stomach, “Hows’bout that grub? I got a powerful rumblin’ stirred up in my gullet an’, if that other boat’s grease monkey’s even half as good as our Mei mei here,” inclining his head in Kora’s direction, “ I don’ reckon they’ll be long fer showin’ up… Ma always said; better ta tussle on a full belly.

Oh hey! Wil don’ eat meat nor eggs,” the pilot’s smiled broadened wolfishly, “Ya don’ mind if me an’ the Kid eats yer share, do ya, Doc?”

Willow shook her head ruefully, but addressed the two miners first,” I do swear that the menfolk on my ship are bottomless pits when it comes to food. You’d think they were all still growing! No, Dash, dear, you can have it all, just trade me your share of tomatoes and we’ll call it even.”

Willow ate delicately, though the expression on her face as she took the first bite of fresh tomato was almost too indecent to watch. She realized a fair amount of the table was watching her and coloured prettily. “I didn’t moan out loud, did I?” she murmured, “I’ve not had garden vegetables in some time. Speaking of which, Sam, do tell me about your garden. What do you grow on this ice rock of yours?”

Willow continued to chat throughout the meal, and on the surface, it seemed like idle chatter (and most people would make that mistake). Without being obvious, however, she had the two miners talking a great deal about themselves (DM’s discretion if he wants to throw in a little tidbit) while not really giving away much about the Rocinante crew. She was never evasive, but seemed genuinely fascinated by Jim and Sam and so would turn the conversation back to them.

When the warning sounded, Willow stilled, eyes round. The Captain had no hestitation, however, and began deploying his meager troops. “Dash, go high with Asher. Kora, you an me’ll stay grounded for the time. Willow, girl, stay outta sight for the time being. They got a basement you can shore up in unless we need you.”

Willow started to nod, then shook her head, rising from the table and heading for the door. “You’re not baring steel if I don’t have my med kit! I can make it there and back before they land.”

Bangles sounding musically as she ran, Willow gathered up her skirts and dashed for the Rocinante. For all that she usually seemed to glide from place to place, she showed a clean set of heels and shapely set of legs as she pelted for the ship.

OOC: Will grab her kit then happily hide in the basement

[OOC: Back in the Med Bay with Willow]

The fine doctor was so skilled at her work, at the art of distraction or, at least, the art of redirection, that Asher nearly forgot about the time, and the Cap’n and Dash out on the comet. Willow gave the area around Asher’s inner elbow one last pass, and then seemed to be inspecting her work.

Asher looked too. His skin looked as if he’d had been working the fields under Esra’s sun in the early planting season – when one’s skin was still getting’ use to the new year’s sun.

The pain was gone, though the area itched a bit and felt a bit tight and tender. The doctor seemed satisfied with it though and Asher thought it a good sign she set aside the dermal mender and re-bandaged the area. The urge to get going again started to well up inside the kid and he let out an unconscious sigh.

Playfully, Willow ruffled Asher’s hair and patted his cheek. “There you go, my knight in shining new skin,” she laughed gently, “have a care now and no scratching at the bandage. Here’s some vitamin E oil,” she handed the lad a small vial, “that you rub into it every morning and night. That will stop it from tightening up too soon and it’ll ease the itch, too.”

Asher tested out his new skin by stretching out his hand, making a fist, and bending his elbow a couple times. The skin was tight for sure, and he already knew he’d have to lead with his other hand in a gunfight… but at least he could still shoot with it.

“Thanks, Willow!” the lad grinned enthusiastically.

“Now shoo!” She waved him away, eyes twinkling. “A girl’s got to get ready and has been dallying with a young man long enough.”

Ash nearly leapt off the chair, like a boy who’d been cooped up in the house all week, eager to go outside.

As he left the room, he called back, “You’re the greatest, Willow!”


[OOC: Down in his bunk…]

Asher changed quickly into clean clothes and slid on his ‘slinger belt. Opening up his lockers, he lovingly took out his pair of Pythons, Rachel and Leah, loading them with practiced grace before placing them in their holsters.

Standing in front of his mirror, the Kid practiced drawing his steel a couple times -- Bham! Bham! -- getting a sense of how the new skin was going to limit him for the moment. Just gonna have to lead left for a while…
Cap’n Sung came over the radio. “Roc, why don’t ya all come on down to the spread for a bite t’ eat. Step lightly folks, we don’t want t’ ruin Sam’s tomatoes.”

Asher smiled knowingly… ruin the tomatoes… I gotcha, Cap’n. Holstering the Pythons again, the kid went back to the lockers and pulled out an assault rifle, an ol’ grizzly from the war days. Asher slammed a magazine in, gave the gun a once over, before shouldering it. The kid dropped in two speed loaders and two magazines into the pockets along his bandoleer.

He was just about to lock up when the concussion grenades caught his attention. Cap’n said to “step lightly”… He scooped out two of them and attached them to his bandoleer as well. Locking up, he headed back up the ladder to meet up with the rest of the crew in the cargo bay.

[OOC: In the kitchen…]

Asher made a deliberate pass by the kitchen on his way to the cargo bay. Show Trish my new skin…
The kid moved in quick, “Hey Trish! Did ya hear? Got me some new skin today!” He let the woman inspect it as closely as she wanted… maybe closer than she wanted. “Willow did a mighty job, for sure.”

Trish was gentle with her touch, as Asher continued. “It itches a bit, and feels a bit tight-like. I’ll have to lead with my left for bit, but I’m just as quick off the mark. Right… left… don’t matter none t’ me. I’ll still beat the man in front of me.”

The lad realized he was rambling in his excitement. “So… I take it, y’ ain’t comin’ out for breakfast with us, huh?”

Trish shook her head and went back to wiping down the counter. The kid popped up beside her and gave her a peck on the side of her cheek. “That’s no problem, Trish. I can see yer pretty busy here. I’ll bring ya back something… Mmmm… real food!”

Asher gave Trish another kiss on the cheek, and nearly bounced out of the kitchen in anticipation.


[OOC: Down on the ramp…]

Asher made his way to the ramp, and found Willow already waiting, her fresh scent washing over him as he approached. Wow… washed and changed… man, she’s quick…
The doctor’s eyes were bright and a toothy smile was on her face. Asher proudly showed off his holstered pistols to the doctor, “Pretty nice, huh? Man, I love these two girls.”

He turned to the side quickly and drew the pistol, left to right. “Bham! Bham!” Turning to Willow, “Good work on the arm, Doctor. Still should work just fine if the lead starts to fly.”

[OOC: Should Kora or Willow make some comment about how they think maybe Asher is packing a little too much firepower, Asher will respond with, “Really? You think the grenades are too much?” If they do, Asher will return them to his room quick… and the rifle too, if they both think it’s too much.]


[OOC: That’s all the time I have right now… sorry… Asher eat hardily of the food provided… getting seconds if offered. He’ll follow commands as given.]