I.A.V. Dortmunder, Alliance Cruiser

[The Alliance]

I.A.V. Dortmunder: Currently in orbit around Dyton, accompanying the luxury liner Bella Starr. Most crew that can be spared is on shore-leave.

[Cain]

Dortmunder Airspace - In the recent past

An unnamed ship pulled alongside the gargantuan Dortmunder, but if the sheer vastness of the Alliance cruiser spooked either the smaller craft or her pilot, it did not show.

After a few carefully chosen minutes, the smaller boat responded to the hails emanating from the Dortmunder’s bridge.

“I repeat this is the I.A.V. Dortmunder. You are in restricted airspace. Leave immediately or prepare to be…”

A voice one could only define as ‘intense’ responded to the Allied officer,
”Fetch Admiral Dortmunder, son.”

For a moment the dead air seemed to transmit the shocked silence of the request,
“Admiral Dortmunder is not a man to be fetched. I sugg…”

”I apologize if that sounded like a request, son. Now fetch Admiral Dortmunder on the quick...his time is of immense value to the Alliance and needn't be wasted dealing with me. Get the Admiral and tell him Parliament has answered his prayer of deliverance. I am transmitting a current clearance code…I suggest you not waste time authenticating it.”

Leaning back in his flight seat, Cain’s gaze returned to the holo-display to his right. The bright blue-green light projected a perfect rendering of Octavius Roman. The Operative’s eyes squinted as he reviewed the text file that floated beside the projection.

He read not to glean basic information…he read for the knowledge granted to those special few that learn by walking a mile in another’s shoes.

“We’ve seen his kind before,” said a voice from the shadowy recess leading to the crew quarters.

Cain’s eyes never left the image of Roman,
”Have we?”

A stunning dark haired woman stepped into view…her own eyes weighing the image of the criminal,
“Countless times. He is a deviant, an anathema, a blight on God’s plan.”

Finally Cain looked over his shoulder at Salome,
”Is that really all you see?”

She did not shrink from his question or his stare,
“Do you really see anything more?”

For a few moments, they faced one another, and the unanswered questions hanging in the air threatened to bleed into something more…aggressive. Finally, Cain smiled and returned to the projection,
”Honestly, I’m not sure, but I feel this operation might prove more difficult than the happenstance you believe it to be.”

Salome shrugged,
“We shall see.”

Cain’s eyes dove once again into the man known as Octavius Roman,
”Yes I believe we shall.”




<<All plot moves approved by Ertia>>

Salome played by Angelina Jolie
(Posted Image)

[Admiral David Buchanan]

David Buchanan stood staring out the plex-screen viewer of his office. It was meant to offer a monumental view, giving a grand impression of the towers of The Dortmunder framed against the starry sky. The view conveyed the power of the Alliance, the unification of all of those lights and glimmers under it's benevolent guidance.

As full as the Admiral's frustrated mind was with matters of importance, a small portion of his not inconsiderable intellect was babbling on about the thin twelve inches of plexi-steel separating him from the freezing cold vacuum that existed just beyond his reach.

The Operatives, Salome and Cain, had not been in contact since their departure. That, he tried to convince himself, was good news. It meant they were on the trail of their prey and couldn't be bothered to keep him apprised of the situation. Or so he rather hoped.

The Rim Marshals had apprised him of the situation of the missing rifles and promised a speedy recovery, leading him to wonder if perhaps he hadn't sent the Operatives on the wrong mission. Surely recovering a few stolen rifles shouldn't be more difficult that capturing a world class fugitive like Octavius Roman?

And then there was the dispatch sitting on his desk, directly behind him as though it were watching him, daring him to resolve the problem. The IAV Ranjit was on it's way in with a murdered Med-Acad Researcher and, presumably, a murderer as well.

The Ranjit. Buchanan turned from the window, letting it frame his square shoulders. It was a constant irritation, that ship. Pratt's constant flouting of procedure, the inconsistent leadership, the mish-mash of military, law enforcement and civilian contractors; they were the unruly kid on the football team who always ran his own play against the playbook.

The problem, Buchanan thought with a sigh, is that just like that unruly brat on the field, the scrappy little scout ship got results.

With a grunt, he lowered himself more stiffly into his chair than he would have a year ago, and slapped the intercom, "Kia? Please call Forensics and Unit Investigation, put them on standby for the IAV Ranjit's arrival."

"Yes, Admiral, right away..." Kia's sing-song voice replied.

"And Kia?" Admiral Buchanan paused, ""If Roth is here, send him in. If he isn't, then find him and get him in here..."

If nothing else, this part should be... interesting.


Marcus? The Admiral's Attache is Kia. I have no other details worked out for her, so gm at will. :)

[Maxwell Edison Roth]

Sgt. Maxwell Edison Roth leaned back into the smooth metal corner of the bathroom stall and slid to a seated position, giggling madly to himself. The doctors on the hospital deck had said that Artificial Gravity Sickness affected one in ten people and that the symptoms should wear off within a month. Still, this did not make the prospect of dealing with the bouts of migraine-enhanced nausea for another week any less entertaining to him. Slowly Max licked his lips and leaned forward, looking in the chromic chamber pot to check his handiwork.

“Heh. Never seen it that color before.”

His wrist comm chimed, startling Roth only in the slightest. Luckily nobody was there for him to shoot, so he did the next best thing: He answered the call. The voice on the other side was female. Business-like, but chipper. Secretary.

“Officer Maxwell Roth? Are you there?”

Max ran his tongue along the front of his now spectacularly gritty teeth. “Before I tell you who you think you’re talking to, mayhap you could expound on who you think you are?”

A pause. Consideration? Consternation? Epileptic Seizure? Who knew? Max hated phones. “This is Corporal Kia Milford, Admiral Buchanan’s attaché. The admiral would like to speak with you in his office immediately.”

“Oh, as prompt as water seeking the lowest point, albeit at a Cruiser’s beam length. Out.” Roth took deep breath and popped sanitizer strip into his mouth, feeling minty freshness scour into every crevice of the previously sour tasting orifice. If they had found his stash, the admiral would have just sicked the MP’s on him. That meant this was something else. Perhaps maybe his final destination was drawing near and he would soon be off this overpolished tub where the let him do nothing.

It was with this in mind that Max had a certain spring in his step as the cop made his way through the meandering hallways of the Dortmunder.

-Ten Minutes Later-

Who in the slavering sphincter of hell would design a starship so convolutedly large?! Max found himself staring at a map of the current deck, again. This time though, he was pleased to see that the admiral’s office was only just around the next corridor intersection. Turning the corner and opening the door, he entered the antechamber, within which he was able to lay eyes on the Admiral’s secre- attaché. She had short cropped dark hair, a vaguely sinic cast, thankfully appeared to be seizure-free, and possesed a figure that suggested she did not hit the gym as much as she used to since getting this desk job. Still…pretty.

“Officer Roth? The Admiral is waiting for you. Don’t you think you should clean yourself up first?” Thinking for a moment, Max figured out what she meant and buttoned up his jacket. For added measure, he licked the palm of his hand and created a part in his hair.

“So, swai attaché Milford, what are you doing when your shift executes itself?” Max leaned forward over her desk, putting his best come-hither look on.

She returned by leaning forward herself, a sultry smile on her own visage. “Oh, I imagine I’m going to be doing a great deal of interesting things…none of which are any of your business.” She pushed a buzzer and the second set of doors gave a faint click in return. “The Admiral will see you now.” She leaned back, all business again.

“Ouch. Well babe, if you ever revolutionize your heart, you know how to find me.” With one last wink, he turned and strode into the sanctum for one of the more powerful people in the lawful side of the ‘verse.

He was immediately on edge, forcing him to physically wipe the smile from his face and make his best attempt to stand straight. In his experience, the cleaner a commander’s office and appearance were, the less tolerance they had for Max’s own…social proclivities. And this time both cases were solidly in the grounds for apprehension.

Roth threw up a slightly off-kilter salute with his right paw. “Officer Roth standing. You becked for me, your Admiralship?”

(Ooc Translations: Swai-sexy)

[Geraldine Freya]

I can't say much about this ship. It's an Alliance Cruiser. I.A.V. Dortmunder. I.A.V., just like the ship I'm heading to now. All I know about that ship is that it flies pretty far out, which is what I need very much. I know you won't understand. I'm not asking you to. I need to be that far away from the core and I need to live my life without the constant reminders of what a woman my age should be doing. It always comes down to two things with her - being a companion or being a wife. She got best of both worlds so she could just leave me alone. This is me, this is my life. I'm not interested in any of those things right now and I need you both to understand...

Geraldine Freya was already twenty-nine. She had done plently in her life by now - traveled through the 'verse a great deal, socialized with both the alliance and the independence without any prejudice, built quite a cooking career from ground facilities and restaurants to small crusiers. Non of that would please her mother but it didn't really feel like the end of the line for Gerry either. She wanted and needed more for herself. Sure, someday she too would like to be someone's wife and someone's mother but she didn't let that pressure her in life. There was always time for it.

Turning around in her guest bunk's bed high in the Alliance Cruiser, she woundered about it all as she put down her corpad with an unfinished wave to her father. She never wrote to her mother but even more so, she never spoke about it to anyone. Especially, she did not speak about her family or her childhood. Some did. Some liked to sit after dinner, have a couple of drinks and then start talking about things that made them happy or sad. Geraldine would listen, she would always listen. But she would never say. She didn't tell things like that. Perhaps it was the way she was brought up. Her mother always said 'A companion never kisses and tells', as she was brought up in her schooling. Gerry was brought up in that very way. 'Never kiss and tell'. Never give out more then you feel is neccessary. And she personally found very little if non necessary, whether the other person was a complete stranger or someone she had been on the same ship for a long while now. No one like that on Dortmunder though. It was a big ship and she was merely a passanger here. She wasn't here to work or stay long so she mostly kept to herself. There was nothing wrong in that, right?, she questioned herself as she fixed her dress. It was getting wrinkles all over it and Gerry just hated wrinkles on her clothes, especially if she liked them so much and this very colored dress, she did like a great deal. She had more to say. Picking up her corpad, she continued typing her wave.

It's a nice cruiser. You'd both like it. It's enormus, you could easily get lost here if you weren't careful. But I like open spaces, you know. Maybe that's part of the reason why I like the 'verse so much. It's open. I may not be like that but I like the feeling of open space. Like you always wanted for me - to be free. Like a bird whose cage was finally left open one morning so she could expand her wings and fly away. Yes, that's how I feel. I've finally been able to put it in words. But that's what this means to me, this job. It's an Alliance cruiser, conducting its business but at the same time, I don't have such a feeling about it as I travel there. It's so deep beyond our world that it seems more free to me then any ship I've ever been. I'm really looking forward being there.

Resting it over her stomach, she looked at the ceiling and smiled. This had to be good. It just had to be. Everything in the deepest corners of her body, from her toes to the top of her head told her it had to be so she would simply have to trust her feeling. Now, she just needed for the ship to come. Yes, that was what she needed very much.

[Admiral David Buchanan]

“Officer Roth standing. You becked for me, your Admiralship?”

"I did indeed." Buchanan barely smiled, but he had read Roth's file forward and back, and little about the man surprised him. Hell, David reminded himself grimly, there was very litttle that surprised him at all these days. The silver haired patriarch of the IAV Dortmunder gestured a chair, "Please, take a seat."

"You're being reassigned. I'm sure that doesn't come as a surprise to you," Buchanan paused to pull up The Ranjit's statistics, and to eye the younger man to see if it did indeed surprise him at all, "The IAV Ranjit. She's not much to look at it, but she's our last defense out there on the deep Rim. And I think you'll find Lieutenant Commander Pratt tends to be a bit more forgiving of idiosyncracies than others have been in the past."

David settled into his chair behind his broad desk, "Now, I'm expecting them within a few hours, and I'm afraid that until then, you have another assignment- one that should prove, sadly, challenging."

He handed over the manilla folder from his desk top, "Engineer Michael Robert McFinn has a teen-age son, who, until recently, was in the custody of McFinn's parents. The boy managed to get into some legal problems back in the Core and McFinn's been awarded full custody of his son."

He tapped the com lightly, "Kia? Have young Mister McFinn sent up. And see if you can find Miss Freya, as well?"

"He arrived last night in supervisory custody. And, I am rather pleased to say, is now in YOUR custody until you can deliver him to his father on The Ranjit. After that," David nodded to Maxwell, a half-smile touching his lips, "Technically, your responsibility ends there. However, I'd like you to take a personal interest in that boys well-being. I think he has potential, if he has the right role-models."

[Geraldine Freya]

Geraldine Freya. Geraldine. Gerry as she preferred it. But it was just a name. A name she was given. Puffing out air, she turned to her side wanting to clear her thought. Garlic is a good add to weak food or any kind of soup. Salt is for absolutely any occasion but sometimes it can depend on the person eating. Vanilla is a personal choice to most creamy substances on a cake. Turning to the other side, the not so young anymore cook was going out of her mind. She needed something to do. She didn't like being someone's guest. It just meant she wasn't allowed to do anything. Maybe she could sneak into the kitchen and make something for herself. But where is the kitchen on this thing? I could get lost. Or worse, I could find it right and then get into a whole lot of trouble. She took a deep breath. I can also get in trouble with their own chef. Theirs could apsolutly hate me messing with their kitchen. I wouldn't want to start this with some huge grudge. I might have to be back here. Quickly sitting up, she ran her hands through her hair. Geraldine was bored senseless. Not even writing to her father was keeping her busy anymore. Or maybe she was finished already and she just didn't feel like sending. She never felt like sending. She rarely ever sent anything home. It would bring the risk of her mother seeing it and trying to convince her to come home. Or worse, she could have another possible husband. We know what happened last time. And then she smiled remembering the last family dinner she agreed, not so willingly to come to, when her mother brought a man to eat with them, all not telling Geraldine how amazing he was, and telling the man how good she was at everything she did. Gerry and her father just kept rolling their eyes each time she opened her eyes.

But the Rim was going to take all that way. Wasn't it? It was what it was supposed to do. Bring her adventure and get her as far as it could away from her own mother. And soon it was going to start. It just had to.

Ping

The doors sounded off. In hailing, she blond woman stood up and headed over to it, pressing the open button. "Miss Freya. The Admiral has requested to see you in his office." The young man told her with hardly any emotion. Raising and eyebrow, she looked at the man for a split second. She had no objection against any side but sometimes, these guys really bugged her. "Second." She said lifting her index finger at him before she hurried to bag and took out a grayish scarf and put it over her. Why was the admiral requesting to see her, as the man put it?

Standing in front of the man again, she nodded, flashing him a wide smile. "All set, officer." He said nothing. He didn't even make a face expression. But when he turned his back to her and exited her quarters, Geraldine couldn't help but smirk and roll her eyes at the same time as she followed him into the hallway. She heard the doors close behind her even though she didn't turn to look at them as she had to keep up with the officer as he lead her through this huge cruiser. Gerry didn't really mind to what she was passing, as much as she was making sure she knew how to get back to her quarters, so she could get her things when the ship came for her. Or when this cruiser came to it. Whichever it was. The man said nothing leading her, so Gerry took the time to ponder on things again while the question of why the admiral had requested to see her popped in again over and over again. When he finally stopped, she realized she wasn't really noticing anymore to where they were going, quite a long while ago and now, he was leaving her in front of another woman's desk. The woman looked up at her. "Geraldine Freya. The very quiet officer told me the Admiral wished to see me." The woman kept looking her for a second more. "So, ah, could you just let him know I'm here." The woman nodded and looked down. For whatever it is that he wished to see me for. Adjusting her large scarf, Gerry crossed her arms standing there and waiting. She knew one thing for sure. She wasn't just going to march in some admiral's office like she owned the place or something like that.

[Admiral David Buchanan]

"Geraldine Freya. The very quiet officer told me the Admiral wished to see me." "So, ah, could you just let him know I'm here."

Admiral Buchanan swung open his door, gesturing Maxwell Ross through the doors with a gentile hand. He had the impression that Ross was probably planning some sort of revenge for the assignment, possibly to corrupt the young McFinn laddy further. Either way, David smiled inwardly, they should make an interesting time of it.

"Miss Freya, Thank you for coming." David's hand gesture was, by his very nature, commanding, but his smile was genuine as he waved her into his office, "Come in! Come in. I understand that The Ranjit has docked early and they've had some trouble onboard, so we are short on time."

With a glance to his departing guests back and another, more meaninful glance to Kia, which she returned with a severe nod. Confident that all was as well as it could be, he strode to his desk, pivoting to lean against it, hands propped on either side. "I'm going to be brutally honest with you. I am in favor of ending the civilian contract positions on all deep-rim vessels, for multiple reasons."

"One. It's my experience that civilians cannot know what they are getting into when they sign on to a deep-rim mission." And the glance he skimmed over her stylish dress, with it's scarves and shoes, said that he felt her patently lacking, "They are unprepared for the long stretches out of contact with the amenities of Core civilization; they are unprepared for the life-and-death decisions that take place every day on a ship like the Ranjit. And, to be thoroughly frank, most civilians simply don't have the discipline necessary for this kind of assignment.

"Two. I don't trust the motivations of much of our civilian contractors. One can say all of the right words, and pass all of the psych evals, and still be harboring ...shall we say... overt fondness for the cause of rebellion on the Rim."

"Unfortunately, the big brass back home don't see things quite my way, so I get to send another unprepared civvie into a long-term mission in one of the most dangerous sectors of the Rim." Buchanan heaved a tired sigh, but a half-smile touched one side of his lips, "So, as long as I have you, I want to use you. You're signing onto the IAV Ranjit as a cook, but as long as you are on that boat, no matter what orders come from Lieutenant Pratt, you work for me. This..."

He handed the attractive blonde a cor-pad, the latest military design, "Is a SecureCorNet. It relays directly via the Ranjit's antenna system. It goes directly from there, to here." A wide hand patted the unit on his own desk. "There are, of course, monumental delays the further out the ship goes, but that's a risk we take."

[B]"From the moment you join that crew, Freya, I want a report once a month. What goes on, their state of mind, Pratt's leadership- anything and everything that you think consequential, I want to know about. And if you find that the sacrifices and demands of this ship are beyond your capabilities, you'll let me know that, as well, and I can facilitate a transfer to a post more to both of our likings."

David straightened from his desk, trying to keep the knowing smile from his face.

[Geraldine Freya]

Well that didn't take long at all as the doors behind the secretary swung open. She could swear the woman behind the desk didn't even have time to buzz in, let a lot let the Admiral know Gerry was here, but the doors were opening. But it turned out that the doors didn't open for her. The admiral was just escorting man out of the office before he actually noticed her.

"Miss Freya, Thank you for coming."
"Come in! Come in. I understand that The Ranjit has docked early and they've had some trouble onboard, so we are short on time."

The admiral was quick in greeting her, obviously already aware of who she was. Not like there were that many people outside of his office anyhow. Or simply, it was his job to have a good eye as well. As he gestured her, Geraldine couldn't help but have index and middle finger on her left hand twitch about. The admiral was as his title said and he had no problem giving out orders, even when he wasn't expressing them verbally and Geraldine didn't deal with orders too well. Her life would do that to you. But his smile didn't show it, which was weird, as especially as he continued talking, inviting her into his office. Following him in, she learned that her ship was here. A small smile appeared on her face, expressing her cheeks strongly then before she headed behind the chair across him. She didn't sit down. Was she allowed to sit down? Or maybe she was supposed to be sitting down already. Never mind, her ship was here.

"I'm going to be brutally honest with you. I am in favor of ending the civilian contract positions on all deep-rim vessels, for multiple reasons."

Brutally honest was always nice. Patiently, she waited for him to be brutally honest as he had promised only to hear his dis-grunt against civilians aboard alliance ships. And he seemed to have many reasons. Alright, lets hear them, she could hear her string of thoughts as she waited.

"One. It's my experience that civilians cannot know what they are getting into when they sign on to a deep-rim mission.
"They are unprepared for the long stretches out of contact with the amenities of Core civilization; they are unprepared for the life-and-death decisions that take place every day on a ship like the Ranjit. And, to be thoroughly frank, most civilians simply don't have the discipline necessary for this kind of assignment.

Did she know what would expect her out on the rim? Only from stories, that part was 'brutally' true. Perhaps, she agreed with him. But she didn't like that when he said it, he glanced at her outfit. She liked clothes, it was a fact of life. The admiral claimed civilians are unprepared for what would take place in these areas and further, as well as for life-and-death situations. They can learn, her mind battled with him silently as she waited for a moment to cut him in. A child learns to talk and walk, doesn't he? Most civilians simply don't have the discipline necessary? "With all do respect, admiral, you don't know me enough to know how much discipline I posses." I give you a week with my mother and you'd be running back to live with those scavengers from outer-rim stories.

"Two. I don't trust the motivations of much of our civilian contractors. One can say all of the right words, and pass all of the psych evals, and still be harboring ...shall we say... overt fondness for the cause of rebellion on the Rim."

He didn't trust motivations of civilians, claimed they could be clever enough so say what is necessary and pass all the test and still be on the side of the browncoats. Even though Geraldine wasn't too willing to jump on her own motivations. Easiest way would have been to put it was that if he knew where he came from and what she had to endure her entire life, he'd be where she was to day, dealing with an admiral lecturing him about not trusting civilians. She was sure of that.

"Unfortunately, the big brass back home don't see things quite my way, so I get to send another unprepared civvie into a long-term mission in one of the most dangerous sectors of the Rim."

The Alliance in the core planets didn't agree with him on the subject of civilians. "Well, I guess that is good, for me." He got to send another unprepared civilian into a long lasting mission as he said it. He saw it like something bad, she saw it as something great. The downsides would come one at a time.

"So, as long as I have you, I want to use you. You're signing onto the IAV Ranjit as a cook, but as long as you are on that boat, no matter what orders come from Lieutenant Pratt, you work for me. This..."

But as soon as he began speaking again, Geraldine turned her head a bit to her left, looking very closely at him. How was he going to use her exactly? She would be signing in as a cook but as long as she was there, she worked for him? Raising her right eyebrow, she kept looking at him as he reached out a cor-pad. Slowly reaching out, she took it and looked down at it.

"Is a SecureCorNet. It relays directly via the Ranjit's antenna system. It goes directly from there, to here."
"There are, of course, monumental delays the further out the ship goes, but that's a risk we take."

"Who's we?" She mumbled as she kept staring at the Cor-pad. She still couldn't believe she was hearing anything of this. Expect cooking for the fine folk of Ranjit, the only other agenda Gerry had on this mission was being free. And now she was finding out that out of one terror, she was just jumping into a new one. Why didn't she just hitch a ride on some random transport and got a job there. She certanly wouldn't have to go through this gorram pi-gu.

"From the moment you join that crew, Freya, I want a report once a month. What goes on, their state of mind, Pratt's leadership- anything and everything that you think consequential, I want to know about. And if you find that the sacrifices and demands of this ship are beyond your capabilities, you'll let me know that, as well, and I can facilitate a transfer to a post more to both of our likings."

He wanted a report once a month? What went on? Their state of mind?! The captain's leadership?! Was he serious? When she looked up, she could see he was. More then very serious. If she found that sacrifices and demands of the ship she was on were beyond her, he would transfer her somewhere that suited them both?

"Sir.." Watering her lips, the young woman moved in front of his desk and put down the corpad. "I'm not a brain doctor. I don't get people's state my mind. I hate orders. I've suffered through them my entire life. Nowadays, it's pretty please or go somewhere not so nice. I get that you're admiral and chief but I will be working for the pretty pots I make them food in. And guess sometimes, for the cap'." Taking a deep breath, Geraldine smiled. "And there is nothing but a husband and being a registered whore that I cannot handle. Don't underestimate me"[b] Pressing her lips to gether, the chef stressed out the respect in the following word. [b]"sir." She paused again for a bit and looked down at the corpad he had given her before looking back at him. "And I'm willing to bet that what we would both like, as in you would like, would be sending me back to one of the core planets or a cruiser so close to them I can see the flowers booming on them? I do hope it isn't qualify as a treat as well I refuse this opportunity." So, why don't you make like a doll as say pretty please or actually threaten me, was what she would actually say if she had the guts to or if she was more pissed off.

[Admiral David Buchanan]

Admiral Buchanan tilted his head. He'd expected to get her pissing mad. He'd quite anticipated that she would blast him up one side and down the other for insinuating that she couldn't handle the assignment that she'd signed up for, ensuring that, no matter how bad things got, she would stick with the job. Putting up with everything The Ranjit threw at her just to spite him, personally.

He'd expected her to be angry enough to do her job.

He hadn't expected her to refuse his order to report on the crew.

David drew himself to greatest height. Although his hair was silver and his eyes carried more wrinkles than they once had, he was still a powerfully opposing man. His voice betrayed no anger, no emotion at all, only cold facts, "I'm afraid, Miss Freya, " He said very slowly, "That you misunderstand me. If you want to ride The Ranjit, you will work for me. You will take that secure-cor and you will report once a month on the activities of your crewmates."

"If you don't wish to, or if you are refusing, then I understand completely." He allowed a touch of sly into his tones, "The prospect of time on the Rim is often compared to a prison sentence, so it's understandable that you would want to alter your contract. The Dortmunder's staff cafeteria is always in need of line-cooks and I'm sure we can transfer you there." Without another glance to her, he reached for his desk-com, "Kia, be a champion and track down Sergeant Johnson of the Mess Staff for me."

[Geraldine Freya]

What is the sign of victory against a higher ranking opponent? A graceful face expression or a show of strong emotions. Geraldine found non as she kept looking at the Admiral. That was a sign of defeat. Not only did she not see neither of the two things, but she didn't see anything. She couldn't read anything on his face as he watched her. That was bad. That was beyond bad. How bad could it get?

"I'm afraid, Miss Freya, "
"That you misunderstand me. If you want to ride The Ranjit, you will work for me. You will take that secure-cor and you will report once a month on the activities of your crewmates."

She misunderstood him? How? Staring at him bluntly, she listened as he told her it was the only option. Accepting a job on the Ranjit meant working for him, reporting for him on everything. Sighing, she said nothing as harsh-ed her face listening to him silently. She was maybe bright enough to accept her own defeat, but she wasn't going to pretend she was aesthetic about it, not in the least bit.

"If you don't wish to, or if you are refusing, then I understand completely."
"The prospect of time on the Rim is often compared to a prison sentence, so it's understandable that you would want to alter your contract. The Dortmunder's staff cafeteria is always in need of line-cooks and I'm sure we can transfer you there."

He was going to play the card of we're children and you're gonna make me believe it's all in my free will? Geraldine couldn't believe she was actually hear him say that. or even worse that he compared the time on the Rim to a prison sentence but she understood it when he said her other choice was the Dortmunder's staff cafeteria. "I'm sorry." She gestured a with her hands trying to peace this together. "You're telling me my choice are to work for you and not see you at all and work for you and having to be confound on the same ship as you?" Those for her choices? Those? She could have just at home. Defeat. Deep deep defeat. Game over. Pressing her lips together, she took the corpad back into her hands. Looking at him very darkly, she imagined herself taking something sharp and hitting her right on the head with it. It usually worked, it would calm her right down. It didn't work this time. "Can I go now? I have a non-crew of mine to meet." Gerry didn't want to spend another second in this room, with this man. Great, another person on the list and she hadn't even began her life on the Rim for real. She just wanted to get out of here and off the Dortmunder.

[Admiral David Buchanan]

Triumph. Somehow it never felt as good in reality as it was seemed it should if one believed books and films and fairy tales. David gave Geraldine a smile devoid of anything but simple admiration for her spirit, "Of course, You're dismissed."

A pause and he held up his hand in a cautious wave, "And Miss Freya, you may not believe it at this juncture, but this is the beginning of a very beneficial working relationship. For both of us."

[Geraldine Freya]

"Of course, You're dismissed."

Probably, the most beautiful words Gerry had heard since this day had started, right next to the Ranjit having landed earlier then expected, Geraldine took this more then a welcome sign to cross her hands, tightening her scarf, holding the most hated corpad right hand, ready to make sure she never had to come face to face with Admiral David Buchanan again. It was as much as the fact that he just made sure she did something she absolutely didn't want to do in a million years and it being nothing to do with the fact that he had ordered her to do it but also because of the smile he had planted on his face that bugged her even more then that right now.

"And Miss Freya, you may not believe it at this juncture, but this is the beginning of a very beneficial working relationship. For both of us."

Just as she was about to turn her back on him and leave, he still had something to say. To him, this was the beginning of a very beneficial working relationship for them both of them. "No, sir, I don't believe it. There isn't anything beneficial about this to me. I already have everything I want and don't want. The only beneficial thing about his would actually not to do it." Smiling sweetly despite her eyes showing no sweetness right now, she nodded quickly. "Good day to you, Admiral." And before she would even allow him to comment or even threaten again, Gerry quickly made her way out of his office, closing the doors behind her. Just outside, she took a very deep breath and closed her eyes.

She was going to end up the life she longed for thanks to that man, she just knew she was. She just knew it. Opening her eyes, she noticed the secretary had been looking at her. Not saying a single word, the Ranjit-chef to be marched out of the office and made her way through the cruiser. She could swear on her way to her bunk she had gotten lost once or twice but when she finally managed to find it, she was relief. All in the final outcome of getting the hell of this place.

Pulling her suitcase on the bed, she threw the cor-pad in as soon as she had opened it before she went looking for her own and dropping it right next to the given one. Gerry took another glance around the room. Nope, nothing was left behind since she made sure everything was in its place while she was here, not wanting to forget anything. It would be nice to forget one thing though but her gut told her that that would be very bad for her so she wouldn't forget it. Zipping her suitcase, she pulled it off the bed as she reached for her cooking bag and exited her room.

Perhaps she should have left her things in the bunk while she went to search for the ship but she couldn't wait another minute here. She had to get off this ship as soon as possible.

Several wrong turns and a lot of floors down, Geraldine made her way to the docking area only to spend a lot longer time searching for the ship itself then the time she needed to get to this place. How do you recognize a particular Alliance ship from all the other Alliance ships? Or at least a crew member she was supposed to join.

[Maxwell Edison Roth]

Considering his new assignment, Max held his own outside the office door, letting the internal thoughts playfully roil around inside his skull like dice on a craps table. Ideas and possibilities of courses of action fooled around in permutations all the way back to the insufferable distance of when he decided to get up this morning, and what he had for breakfast. That was some good vodka… However, as was often the case lately, Roth became bored with this internal deliberation and made one of his favorite tactical mistakes:

He opened his mouth.

For this particular instance, it was attaché Kia Milford who would bear the brunt of this experience. Max did not bother with posturing physically to the shapely woman he beheld in his vision. Instead, the Alliance cop opted for again in the articulation of words to hold her interest. However, this fared about as welcome as the Archangel Gabriel at the gates of Hell in the ensuing conversation.

“So, Miss Milford-”

“No.”

“I was only-”

“No.”

“Such emphatic vehemence for-”

“Still no.”

“You’re a very hard-” Roth cut himself off this time with a grin at the arctic stare Kia was diverting at him. In truth, this was almost as entertaining as if he had been making any progress with the woman. However, before he could see just how far Milford was willing to let him enter into her world by way of conversation, the pretty blonde who had interceded him previously in his conversing with the admiral exited Buchanan’s office in a rather bit of huff. Max could not help but whistle softly at her beauty as she passed, though she seemed not to notice. No doubt used to it. Maybe since she was called in at the same time as I, she will be on the same boat and we could- Before the train of thought could reach a conclusion, his process was snapped back to reality by Milford.

“You’re unbelievable.” Her voice, to Max, held only the faintest bit of contempt in it.

Roth smiled nonchalantly in return. “Last I checked, swai Attaché Kia, this was in fact reality we were gallivanting about in. If you have trouble believing in that, then I cannot help you. But, it does not modify the verity that I found the lady just past to be attractive in my own mind, regardless of your perception of believability of me on the whole.” He paused, halfway in the door of the admiral’s office to keep it from closing. “Though, I do embrace in you to be a splendor comparable to hers in the amount of interest it solicits in me, if not more.” He shrugged. “But then, we will in no way know what could have been ours, eh? Such is the way, the inflexibility…of your belief in me. Such sorrow!” With not another word, the sergeant once again ducked into the Buchanan’s doorway before it shut again and as such, found himself before the man of the power once more.

His tone had what could be construed as seriousness to it. “First, my Lordship, I must bend my knee to the originalistic audacity of thou. Of all itemized things I have been accused of, a role-model is a personal first, so...why not? Different is good, and as such I shall endeavor to prove you right, or others wrong, in these orders you see fit to bestow at me. Also…yes, the Ranjit really is not much to look at; In fact I find her the hideous-looking vessel. However, appearances can be deceiving, and I accept the transfer on this hopeful mindset with enthusiasm.” He cocked his head slightly. “I wonder if the young ‘un aforementioned for my safekeeping is having as much trouble finding his way here as I did.”

A sheerest of moments passed before recognition wound itself across Maxwell’s face, the reaction of which began with him snapping a finger then speaking again. “Right. Permission to enter and permission to speak freely, sir?”

[Admiral David Buchanan]

“First, my Lordship,"

Buchanan had just turned towards his desk. As Roth's voice rippled out from behind him, he halted, shoulders parade straight, white-haired head bowed as he searched out his patience. With a sigh, he turned back, arms crossing over his chest while the younger man argued out his point of view.

“....I wonder if the young ‘un aforementioned for my safekeeping is having as much trouble finding his way here as I did.”

“Right. Permission to enter and permission to speak freely, sir?”

"Not granted. Not that you would heed." Buchanan finally allowed the sprig of a smile to touch his lips. "That, Roth, is exactly why I chose you. From everything I understand about this young man, he has no respect for authority, openly defies it at every turn. His father, Lt. Pratt, Broadwick- they are the last people who are going to be able to identify with him. You, on the other hand- He's going to like your style, if not your verbage."

Buchanan relaxed suddenly, "And I would dare you, Roth, to tell Pratt his ship is hideous. Do try to get it all on capture, because it will make wonderful viewing to alleviate the boredom of Friday evenings."

"As for young Mister McFinn, I imagine he is deliberately trying to annoy us with tardiness, prove his ... independence... So why don't you go find him and set him straight?" David seated himself comfortably in his chair, resting his wrists on the wide expanse of his desk, "And Roth? My attache enjoys classical guitar and African violets. Hydroponics grows the latter and she plays the former." He pretended to be absorbed in his assignment list, "She also has full amnesty from me if anything - or anyone - happens to get broken. You do not have that privilege."