Second and a Half; Jenna

On the equatorial street, wheeled crawlers circle from airlock to airlock, and the main warehouses, carrying supplies and cargos between the ships and their crews in slow, but steady, fashion. A pair, going in opposite directions, happen to stop on either side of the Magnum Opus's airlock, blocking the view from above and below the equatorial line. One of these trains happens to carry an arcing piece of fuselage, covering most overhead (or across) perspectives.

Jenna Kline slips out of the narrow space between two of the cars, and quietly slips into your airlock. Through your terminal, she keys, 'I'm at your airlock, and can stay here if it'd make you more comfortable. But I wouldn't mind a seat either.'

Othis goes to look at the engines, trying to see if there is another bomb hidden back there. He has decided to let the rest of the group deal with the visitor without him.

Phaedra rushes into her cabin, and in less time than it should take reappears in full casual space-goer regalia.

"OK, I'm ready, if you all are ready too."

Shine starts cycling the airlock, but doesn't bother to put on a human disguise. "Come on in," he says, "as you said, it's time we talked in person. There's too much here we don't know, or are just guessing about."

Jenna Kline slips into the ship from the airlock. It's a small ship, and she doesn't go much more than a step or two forward. With her back to the exit, she takes a look at you, with perceptible surprise at Shine.

She's wearing a holstered sidearm, some crating and opening tools, and a comm/maintenance interface unit secured by belt to her overalls. The black-dirt stained baseball cap is impractical. No signs of significant headgear or other imposed chipping.

She knows you know you've been assessing one another. She says, "Who *are* you people, and what are you doing here? I would've said you were some sort of Galliards, until Mister or Missus raven, over there."

"You're not Hrulthgar's 'ace-in-the-hole' secret backers, are you? 'cause if you're not made up, you're too late: you're gonna lose your investment."

Phaedra says, "Before we reveal who we may or may not be, I was hoping to hear your understanding of the tricky situation we all find ourselves ensnared within. Rest assured that our goals do closely align with yours, though we may look the motley crew. Speak true, and quickly, and we will do the same."

Jenna says, "And why should I give you something for nothing? That's not a reassuring answer to my question."

Jenna looks to, for some reason, Linus for... something, perhaps backup?

"You'll have to forgive her," says Linus. "She's young and impatient, and she's been treated abominably by the Galliards. I am Graf Linus von Schultz of Old Terra." He gives a full formal bow.

"At the moment, I think our interests align. I think none of us want to see the Galliards run roughshod over this place and, more importantly, over its people. How can we help, and just what ace-in-the-hole does Hrulthgar think he has? Forgive the question, but... I do not with to be disrespectful to our host, but I think it not entirely unfair to say that he has perhaps been overestimating the strength of his own hand. That said, we don't want to get in the way of anyone else's rescue plans by trying to come up with our own. So, how can we help, and would you like something to eat or drink?"

"No," Jenna says, after an awkward bow in return, "I don't need neither food nor drinks; can't be sticking 'round long enough for either, with all that'll be happenin' soon."

"So. You're not here to save Hrulthgar. Good. I've never met a man more full of crap than he was. He'll get spaced, and we can all be happier for it.

"And I notice you still didn't answer, exactly. So you're not with the Galliards. What are you here for? Cyberin' someone? Maybe the other old Terran guy, hmm? 'Fraid that line of business was mostly Hrulthgar's and the Galliards.

She shifts her stance slightly. For the more combat-trained [i.e. any combat skills], a more ready stance. Otherwise, a more comfortable, slacking stance. "Better talk fast and honest-like," she says. "Don't see why we shouldn't add a nice yacht like this to the haul."

Fine," Shine says, taking a perch near eye level. "I'm Shine. We've met, though given your visitors, I might have looked a bit different. You could have this ship with our blessing, except that it's our way off, and besides that, it belongs to a friend of mine, and I'm hoping to return it to her eventually.

"Hrothgar is an idiot, I agree--though I'd hardly wish death on anyone at the hands of those self righteous Galliardans. As to why we're here, we're interested in those artifacts, one of which was stolen from that friend of mine I mentioned, another which, as discoverer, I have a rather personal interest in, and as for the third... Otis also has some family in the Galliardan's clink, but that's more of an interest than a mission."

"Hrothgar!" she says, and she punches her thigh hard before continuing more moderately, "...he's done more than enough crap as far as I'm concerned... forcing his 'friends' to get their brains blown out for 'loyalty,' and being too stupid to realize the Galliards would be takin' them up as primary, instead of him - it's their tech after, all. Moron."

She sighs and flicks her cap around with speed, probably a repeated nervous habit. Her hands go back to her sides, and then she's cycling the airlock to go out. Not at any particular speed, however; she's selected one of the most leisurely open/close cycle options.

"But he's still got a good rep because 'twas useful to building him up suchlike. And managed to argue he gets a gun, too, soon after getting shut into jail. Ironic considering that the jail was 'his idea.'"

"That might be a bit confusin'," she says, "'twas always in the plan to get a bunch of folks already here from the start. Hrothgar didn't even argue with his 'gift' of 'pirate prisoners' to the Galliards. Gun the min of what 'prisoners' get... and if Hrothgar's figured out the real situation over the fake one... knowing him... he's probably trying to sell out Othis's family and the entire bunch for better treatment, to whoever," She nods to Phaedra, "probably even you Galliards, still. Total, 100% scumbag. Too late for me to do much 'bout it, other than suggest he get killed somehow - folks knew the risks."

The airlock's finally open. Jenna steps through, turns, and prepares to shut it and back out. She shows you a tiny, unseen transmitter held in her hand and flicks it over. [A control for the bomb in the engine room, it turns out.]

"I don't give a damn about the artifacts, although I suppose I'm in a position to haggle. But why bother? Take them if you think you can. You've got a few hours, no more than six. Keep your ship if you think you can, too - none of that's up to me, anyway - anyone about free to take a shot if they want."

With a wry smile she says, "I guess I'm satisfied with your questionings. And welcome to Hammerhead, by the by."