Wing City Spaceport

Hmm

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Master nods.

It wasn't odd to see one of the many marines shuffling about the place carrying a duffel largely as big as he was, though it was something of an anomaly to see one going the way opposite the flow of so many others. Marcus, of course, wasn't being transferred in or flown back from some God-forsaken desert on occupation(why it was that Arabia was so centric to Terran strategy, he had no idea), but rather was here on business... of a sort. Grove wouldn't be too difficult for him to spot, even in his buzzed state the night prior he had largely burned her face into his memory knowing that the starport would prove a most crowded locale whenever it was he wished to depart.

Sheffield was surprised that the contact had gone so well, even after the uncertainty that had plagued him the night before during their meeting, and she really didn't seem all that opposed to his plan. Or she didn't sound it. People could play that off, though... Odd that he was paying attention to these things. It shouldn't be that much of an issue, just a couple of days and then he'd be done with it.

Or so he hoped.

He shuffled about still, ignoring the crowds and preferring to look to the many ships that were in dock, his mind pondering just which one was Grove's, and where he'd stay on board the thing during transit. Hopefully nowhere too dank. He could take any space, no matter the size, so long as it wasn't wet. Given, his ideas of interstellar travel were biased somewhat by film.

There was nowhere more exciting planet-side than the spaceport. Grove just soaked up the smells, the sights, the sounds, everything. Where most saw chaos and confusion, the Capsuleer saw a carefully designed orchestral symphony. The spaceport was her play ground and temporary home to what she considered her child; a CC "Heimdall" Class Battlecruiser which was an upgrade from her last Heimdall. The Gallante had been retrofitted for civilian use but this baby—this ship was military class. Not to mention stolen, but Grove wasn't about to point that fact out. The Capsuleer needed a ship and she preferred ones from UCON. For now, it was her pride and joy.

"Hey guy! Don't touch that! What the hell do you think you're doin' snooping around my ship," Grove yelled out at the top of her lungs while making threatening body gestures. It didn't take her long to rush over and push the curious man down on the ground harshly. "You don't just go up to someone's child and start touchin' their face and peeking under their clothes, now do you? You're molesting my ship and I outta place charges on you for invasion of privacy!" Grove continued on in her "gentle" tantrum while the man beneath her attempted to speak or apologize but never got the chance due to the woman's ranting.

It wouldn't be all that hard to pick Grove out of the crowd at all. Actually it was more than easy since Grove had decided to get into a wrestling match with the snoopy man and a circle of people gathered around to watch the show, cheering and placing bets on who would win.

Marcus would've given the fight the erupted little piece of his mind were it not for the voice that carried on the air, the tone of which he had yet to hear but could recognize regardless. With a glance over, he looked to the unfolding scene and observed what he could through the throngs present. It looked to be Grove, and he could see where she would do such a thing, taking whatever target of her anger to the ground and beginning something of a tussle. Marcus, understandably interested, soon strode over to watch, shoving several smaller individuals out of his way so that he might get a better glimpse of the action.

Odd, he had figured that she would've preferred something... smaller. The ship seemed to be quite the beast at half a kilometer, and it had a martial air to it that Marcus wasn't entirely sure was meant to be there. Was it a military vessel, and if so... just how did Grove get ahold of it? Whatever the case, watching as Grove put whoever it was she sprung on it to shame, he called out, attempting to project his voice as best he could over the crowd, "I'd rather you not be arrested before we're off!"

The beating that Grove was giving to the man wan't all that surprising. The man was shrimpy and did nothing but curl into the fetal position with his hands up in a defensive manner while Grove gave him a nice jab to the temple. That was sure to leave a ring in the spy's ear alright, the Azrick thought to herself. Wrapping her fingers around the victim's collar, Grove pulled him up and was about to headbutt the guy but a voice in the crowd forced her to hesitate. She scanned the various faces gathered around in the circle until she spotted Marcus. A mischievous grin splayed across her lips and Grove looked back down to the helpless man.

"Teaches you not to go screwing around and spying on other people's shit, you sonuvabitch," Grove said then gave the man a harsh shake which made him cry out in terror before she released him. The woman couldn't help but to laugh as she stood up. Dusting her flight suit off, Grove released a sigh and moved over towards Marcus. It seemed that the Azrick was in rough shape due to last night. There were bags under her eyes and a stiffness that was obvious in her back, not to mention her hair wasn't even brushed this morning and she made no attempt at even changing her clothes.

"Good to see you made it just on time," Grove gestured widely which caused another cry to spill forth from the beaten man. It didn't take him long to scramble up to his feet and run for his life. He was just admiring the ship!

"This here is the ... " Well shit. Problem number one just popped up. Grove hadn't christened the spacecraft yet. " ... is my ship and the love of my life. Its big isn't it," she joked around while giving Marcus a nudge and wink. "Packs a punch too when needed. You choose the right pilot to take you all the way into the Razorbacks, Marcus."

He had watched with some morbid curiosity as Grove, he figured, quite possibly beat the literal shit out of the man, and he made a mental note by this point that he really shouldn't get on her bad side during the transit. He'd rather face whatever death he found with his ribs intact. Luckily though, his words cut her beating the poor man senseless short, and soon enough she approached, as did he, an act made much easier with the dissipation of the crowds, who, with the lack of sport and end of the 'fight', had quickly lost interest. It was at this that Marcus really looked her over, and were it not for his concern being paid to the fact that she looked disheveled as Hell, he might've found her rather attractive. Instead his brow furrowed a ways as he waited for her to introduce him to her ship, her description of which only strengthening his thoughts that it was, in-face, milspec.

"I believe I have..." He spoke, a smile present on his face as he trailed off with a light exhale, looking again to the vessel, the beam of which proved only to be a fraction of its length. The only things he even had visual experience with were the Terran Triremes, and this... whatever it was, certainly put them to shame. Likely, knowing its pilot, the beast was of Scatterran make. He changed the conversation's direction, however, for only a moment, as he asked with a curious glance, "... you never got out of the chair last night, did you?"

The woman nodded after Marcus agreed with Grove on having chosen a good pilot and then she started doing something that no one ever enjoyed: rambling off every single feature the Heimdall held. It had this A.I. system, and that targeting system with blah blah defensive mechanisms and could hold that many drones. "... never got out of the chair—" Grove finally stopped speaking and brought her gaze around to the Terran. For a moment a look of shame came across her face, or even, embarrassment. Blush rose up on her cheeks and Grove tucked her hair behind an ear.

"I'd be lying if I said yes, Marcus, but its okay. I slept just fine last night and I couldn't be any better. Fit as a fiddle as they say," Grove responded before clearing her throat. She knew she looked bad—horrible even—but there was no reason to impress any man with the way she looked. If Grove set out to impress Marcus, she would do it with her piloting skills. That was what the Azrick planned on accomplishing. He'd at least get a good ride before—wait, no, that didn't sound right in her head. Best not to complete that thought but it was a fraction too late and curiosity had been piqued.

Grove's eyes snapped onto the Heimdall. "You're more than welcome to hop on board and get a feel for the ship. Just please, don't get lost on your way to the sleeping quarters. And no, even if the ship is this large, you won't find anyone else on it. Don't need one when you have someone built to pilot these things," she said while walking towards a table which had a datapad lying on it.

He offered her something of a smile as she spoke concerning her rest, and he knew the feeling somewhat. When you're tired enough anywhere's comfortable, and you don't move an inch. It was... difficult to explain that to the instructor when they found him that morning, so long ago, still strapped in the APC. "Well, I'm glad to hear." Wouldn't want to have a pilot who wasn't fit, after all, especially not such an endeavor. He followed her gaze to the battlecruiser, however, and listened as she directed him as to just what and what not to do.

He'd certainly try not to get lost, but on this point he made no promises. This was the first time he'd be on anything larger than a shuttle, and he looked forward to it in a way. Something of an adventure. His gaze remained, for some time, on the Heimdall, pondering its innards as Grove strode over to a nearby table, thought it shifted onto Grove as she strode away, and he asked, curiously, "... so just how do I know where to go?" The question was rather simple, and he didn't mean to sound like a smart-ass when he asked it(as it was rather honest), though it had a way of sounding humorous.

"Oh," Grove blinked and looked over at Marcus. "Just ask Hellen. She'll direct you where you need to go and even activate a nifty trail of light along the floor for you to follow. I guess I should have mentioned that earlier instead of letting you stand there all intimidated," the woman said with amusement touching her words. "I'll take you up in a short moment. There are some last diagnostics coming in and I need to recheck the fuel levels. Better safe than sorry," she said while reaching into a pocket to pull out a short cord. Grove plugged in side into the datapad and then the other end straight into the nape of her neck. Instantly charts and diagrams of various status reports flew into the Capsuleer's view albeit Marcus would see none of it. There was no need to stare down at the datapad and the Azrick just seemed to stare methodically at the hull of her ship.

This was the first time that Grove was actually checking up on the Heimdall since she had "acquired" it not too long ago. That was an interesting story but not one she was ready to tell just yet, especially not with port authority keeping a close watch on her—the person they believed to be a Rachel Groveshkna.

"I'm sorry Marcus," Grove said with a sigh, and turned to him with a despaired look before dropping her gaze down to the ground. It seemed something was wrong, but what exactly that was was unknown for that time being.

A ship's AI, he assumed, such an odd concept that he still wasn't entirely familiar with, but one that surely made living on board one of these things much more bearable. He offered another light smile as he looked back to the ship as she continued. It had a utilitarian air to it, not like so many of the other vessels, designed with aesthetics in mind. He had, in his younger days, given some thought to space travel and going across the stars, though that was before the Terran Conflict, before things got unpleasant. He sighed, thinking of such days, back when one could study the concepts of an Alcubierre drive without actually being able to go out and see one, much less be on board a ship and watching it work.

It was mind boggling, his old childhood dreams of going out and about the stars being only a stone's throw away.

She offered to take him up in the ship after she dealt with some data, Marcus replying in kind, "Not a problem." He was enjoying the scenery anyway, his eye's focus being switched often between the ship and its pilot, the latter proving to be oddly interesting. She was utilizing a datapad, but... not, at the same time. Grove was a mysterious woman, the last of the so-called Capsuleers, or at least the first generation. For a moment his mind wandered on how they were able to do such things, though it was interrupted with her words -- an apology -- and he turned about again, his eyes having recently shifted back to the vessel.

"Sorry? What for?..." His face wasn't worried so much as it was confused, the apology, to his knowledge, having no precedent in conversation. Looking to the Capsuleer with an expression of curiosity, his brow furrowed once more as he added, "... nothing's the matter, is there?"

"Sure there is," Grove said while placing a hand on her hip and huffing out an annoyed sigh. "Last night ... I passed out on you while we were having a deep and meaningful conversation, I think. I don't exactly remember all that was said but I know that things were said. So, if I offended you in anyway, I blame the damn Stovnoski and its truth-serum-like abilities. Oh stars," she paused after making a realization," I didn't like ... come on to you or anything did I," she finished in a questioning tone. Though, if she was honest, Grove shouldn't blame herself as Marcus wasn't all that bad looking and his temperament was ... different. He kind of reminded Grove of her—Oh god. I'm thinking dirty thoughts about a man that reminds me of my father, Markus.

Grove didn't know it but a rather disgusted look came over her face while she stared at the Terran. It soon shifted into horror as her thoughts continue down that path for a moment longer. "I think I'm gonna be sick. We better ... go, yeah, we should just go get you settled in even though we won't be making the launch tonight. Still too many preparations that need to be finished, and some of the stock needs to be resupplied. Nothing to do with weapons, so it shouldn't take past a day or two," Grove said while intentionally keeping her eyes off of Marcus and while her cheeks flared up cherry red.

"... gross," she mumbled to herself while holding her stomach with her free hand and making way to the lift which would take them up to the entry hatch.

"I..." He began, unsure just how to state that nothing unpleasant transpired, much less her offending him. If anything, the conversation had done him a world of good, the compassion, however light or brief, that Grove had offered him opening his eyes to things around him. "... you didn't offend me, Grove, and-" A pause followed her question of her making any move towards him, his own mind not sure how to treat it other than, "No, you didn't."

Were it not that she seemed so upset by this, as her face soon revealed, he would've found it rather amusing. The topic of her getting sick caused her some worry and he approached with a start, probably not the best choice considering the might put the contents of her stomach on him, looking with some slight alarm to her. Marcus remained silent for most of her tirade, watching as the woman seemed to have some sort of internal upheaval, one, he hoped, wouldn't end with any sort of projectile vomiting.

Following after her as best he could, he spoke after she had finished, waiting several seconds before doing so, "I'm sorry, Grove, whatever it was, I..." His choice of words seemed lacking at this, the only thing coming to his mind, being as he didn't know exactly what had offended her so, escaped his lips, "... didn't mean to."

"—No. Don't apologise, M-Marcus," Grove had a little difficulty in saying the name," its ... nothing to do with you." It was a lie, obviously. Whether the Terran was able to pick up on this falsehood was all left up to the level of his perception of micro-expressions and body language habits. Grove had a good poker face but it wasn't always good. "I think I just ate some bad breakfast or something," continued the lie as the Capsuleer hadn't even eaten all day due to the want to be out in space.

Reaching the hatch, Grove popped the airlock and ushered Marcus through into an extremely white room.

Decontamination Process Begin.

"Override," the woman simply said to stop the long and arduous process of crap that she didn't believe was necessary. People were meant to get germs and build up immunities. She had to do it almost every single time she Rebirthed and Grove hadn't once died from a virus or a communicable disease. Opening the internal hatch, the pilot rushed Marcus inside the hull of the ship where a long hallway lit up.

"Captain Groveshkna Onboard. All Han—"

"Oh hush Hellen. Show Marcus where the male quarters are and light up a path," she said before turning to the Terran. It was hard to meet his gaze squarely, but she managed. "Make yourself at home, I have a few things to do on flight deck and then down to maintenance deck. I'll meet you for chow. Hellen will announce when its ready, or when its supposed to be ready. We don't have a chef but its pretty easy to prepare meals onboard," Grove explained while a thin red line appeared on the floor and pulsed in the direction that Marcus needed to travel.

"Well, I'll be seeing you around. Feel free to explore," the Azrican woman said before taking off at a fast pace down the corridor in the opposite direction. Now it was just Marcus all alone in a Battlecruiser with nothing but waiting to be done.

The woman's response held little ground with him as he began, very much so, to believe that it did have something to do with him. This bad breakfast seemed to crop up most conveniently only after his arrival, and he was sure that there was some poor bastard still out there in the spaceport willing to attest to her fine physical condition. Instead, he simply stood by, waiting first in the white decon chamber before being shown into the ship at large, his eyes distracting him for a moment from his thoughts.

It certainly wasn't what he was expecting. Quite different from the dark, cramped quarters he had been thinking would await him. Though Grove soon started speaking concerning food and whatnot, though by now he was more concerned with looking to her. Something was amiss, as he had been noting for the past few minutes, though she had a good way of hiding just what it was. It wasn't like reading drunk or guilty E-2s back on base. She had a bit more experience with these things. Marcus' gaze trailed after her as she departed, only noticing, with her disappearance the red line which had made itself present on the floor.

Curious. Regardless of what occupied his mind, he thought it to be a rather intriguing feature, and so, with nothing better to do, the gray-clad man soon strode off along the line, his combat boots' rubber soles making little noise as the traversed the eerily empty hallways of the Heimdall.

For the rest of the day, Grove had left Marcus on his own while she continued to prepare the ship to leave Terra. Most of it was spent shouting at bay workers who were delivering supplies. It was hard work to get a ship up and running as fast as the Azrick was without a crew, but somehow she was pulling it off. Grove had been around the block a few times and knew how to get people to hustle when the time called for it. Though, she didn't exactly understand why she was pressing so hard to get things finished. After all, this was a literal suicide mission. The sole purpose of this flight was to take Marcus out to the Razorbacks so he could do stars knew what, and die.

It wasn't until the Terran sun had set on the horizon that Grove made it back onto the ship and onto the flight deck. The woman sat in the commanding seat and propped her boots up on the console in front of her before closing her eyes. It wasn't too long after that soft snoring was heard. It wasn't too surprising that Grove had fallen asleep due to her hard work, and it was actually comical the way she was lounging limp in the chair, mouth hanging agape. The woman was an utter wreck.

The Heimdall class was quite a specimen, proving to be entertainment enough for Marcus as, once he had settled in to his temporary quarters on the beast, he spent most of the remaining time exploring what he could. Cautiously he ventured, making sure to memorize landmarks and such so that he wouldn't get lost, and he looked at what he could of the place, still not believing in the back of his mind that he was actually on a space-craft... and if his mind served him right in its assumptions, a warship. His giddiness was, of course, curtailed by the disturbing vacancy of the place. It seemed quite lonely.

He wondered, as he paced its many hallways and corridors, how Grove could stand it.

Time was of little issue to Sheffield, though he knew that it had been several hours as he backtracked about the place, always returning to his quarters every thirty minutes or so, and he finally decided that perhaps he would venture where Grove went. It'd been some time, of course. She likely got done what she needed for the day.

Anything was better than being left with one's thoughts.

His exploration of this place was a bit less cautious that his last, the day's ventures likely would've been much easier had he just asked the AI to direct him to a locale, and he didn't bother with memorization so much. It wasn't but an hour or so until he happened upon the bridge, or so it looked, and with an odd expression, could hear the sound of breathing upon entering the place. Upon further examination, it seemed that Grove was present, albeit asleep in a most unflattering manner. Marcus, for the moment, preferred not to interrupt her, looking to the bridge at large as he moved away as silently as he could muster.

It wasn't every day you got to be on the bridge of a combat vessel, you know.

As soon as Marcus stepped foot on the bridge, the Capsleer began to stir from her nap. Just the simple shift in air density and movement was enough to alarm her back into a conscious state. It would have been a different story if Grove had not jacked herself to the ship—literally. Opening one blue eye, and then the other, she spotted Marcus admiring the grand-eau of the Heimdall's most exciting room. It didn't take her long to straighten up and run the back of her hand across her mouth, while planting her feet back on deck.

"I see you finally found me. Amazing, isn't she," Grove asked with a proud smile on her face, one full of excitement and confidence. Using the arms of her chair as support, the Capsuleer lifted herself from the seat. It was than that the connection Grove had to the ship was obvious; she was literally connected. Wires were plugged into the ports which ran along the woman's spine and transmitted signals from the ship to her own spinal cord. The thickest lay at the base of her neck which seemed to restrict Grove's head moment if not just the speed in which she turned her head.

And then with a simple flex of a finger, the consoles which surrounded them lit up and sprang to life. It was a beautiful sight for Grove and in her earlier years, it had always made her tear up a little bit when she stepped on the bridge of a ship.

"Now maybe you understand why I don't think too highly on death. I enjoy my job too much," Grove said with small laughter trailing behind. "Being able to pilot the best ships is worth a thousand deaths and a thousand more miserable lives."

With a quick movement his gaze was shot to her, looking with curiosity as it seemed the woman was quite literally attached the ship. With his astute mind, the Terran figured that this, likely, was what made her a Capsuleer. "Quite so... I spent the time since you left me exploring and I still feel like there's something new to every corner." Marcus certainly didn't expect the display of her power, however, as soon the whole bridge was alight with activity, the displays evoked with a simply twitch of her finger.

He couldn't help but inhale sharply, after a moment's hesitation of course, at the sight.

"... and you can just do it?" The vague question was as best of one he could offer, the correct terms escaping him at the moment, preferring rather to enjoy the view with which he was provided. "... pilot anything, I mean?"

Marcus's question was met with great humor. Terrans were an amusing people. "Yeah," Grove started out," I can pilot any ship whether its outfitted for a Capsuleer or not. We were made for starships, but the more adept and passionate of my kind can pilot even the most ancient hunks of crap. We can do other things as well, but I won't bore you with all of that shit. Honestly, its boring," she stated while reaching towards her spine with a hand. Nonchalantly, Grove began to disconnect herself, pulling the plugs from her body with ease. It wasn't until she needed to pull out the mainline that the Azrick woman used both hands to tug it out.

A sticky clear fluid leaked out from Grove's access point which she apologized for."I'm sorry. Its gross to watch me do this. Usually it makes people who aren't used to it pass out or throw up. Especially since its such a long rod," she said while waving it around. It was at least a good four inches long. Grove set the instrument down and pulled a rag from her pocket to wipe down the back of her neck as her free hand powered down the bridge. As the lights dimmed down, she turned to Marcus and asked," You ready to go get some grub?"

It was like her stomach was just waiting for the mention of food. It gave a loud rumble which caused an unpleasant expression to cross Grove's face.

The thought that one could pilot any and everything that they came across was rather fascinating to him, that they could interface, somehow, with it and manipulate it to their designs. Quite curious, as he soon mused on the subject, "It must be rather freeing." The intrigue that the displays held with him captivated him for a few moments, not looking, initially, to Grove as she went about her business with the wiring and such. When he did, however, he recoiled somewhat at the sight of her removing the greatest of the plugs, though he felt little internal reaction.

It was unusual, to put it lightly, but not truly disgusting. Needles, now that would've set him on edge.

"It's... not a problem." His eyes struck straight for the rod, it being the subject and whatnot, and with his brow furrowed once more he contemplated what it would feel like to bear such a thing in one's body. A blink or two put the thought from his mind as he soon concentrated on her words, especially since they concerned dining. "I'd be delighted." came the quick reply, Marcus leaving the bridge as it was as he backtracked to the door, waiting largely on Grove before setting out.

He was still rather unfamiliar with how things worked on a starship.

Grove was more than happy that Marcus was willing to grab some chow. It would have been a bit depressing to eat alone on an empty ship so the company was valued. However, the Azrick woman still would have gone with or without him. It put a smile on her face and a little haste into her step. "Well, good. I haven't eaten anything all day long," Grove said which gave more suspicion to the fact that she had been lying earlier. "Who knows, we might even have a little alcohol on board if I am correct and that shipment came in today. I can't really remember. Its all a blur," she said while taking the lead and exiting the bridge.

Walking down what seemed to be corridor after corridor, Grove took a left into a wide cafeteria room lined with several tables. The kitchen lay just past a buffet serving line and the woman wasted no time making it into the cold storage units. It wasn't too long after the door closed on her that she appeared with two frozen bags of unidentifiable ... food. "I hope you're starving like I am and have a good appetite. We're having steak tonight!"

Grove danced her way over to the grill as happy as she could be. It was a side of the Capsuleer that no one ever got the chance to see aside from a singular person; a person that was left far behind in Lara's past. She even started to sing while the grill fired up and the steaks auto-defrosted.

"Never did like all that fancy cooking shit most ships have. I tend to stick with a good ol' fashion industrial sized grill and oven. In my opinion, it makes food taste much better rather then ... dehydrated or whatever they do to food these days to keep it fresh. Never was much into the science of it, I just like eating."

The walk seemed to be a bit less tedious with Grove's company, even as miniscule as the feeling might've seemed before. It was nice to have something else moving in the place besides himself, imbued him with a sense of relevance. Besides, walking through the place alone could get damn creepy, he figured. He was excited at the possibility of food, however, and the quickness in his step was descended largely from a situation similar to Lara's, her words not lost on him as he had pondered her state during his adventures.

The detail concerning her 'bad breakfast' especially.

Delayed were the thoughts, though, as they entered the cafeteria, which only emphasized the feeling of loneliness present on the vessel, Marcus greeting the sight with a sigh. His gaze didn't follow Grove, however, and he was startled somewhat as she produced the meals, if they could be called such in their current state. Answering the rhetorical question with a smile and a shrug, he followed her, standing by as he watched her start on the meal, leaning against a counter as he did.

Odd that she seemed so cheerful, despite the rather depressing story she had shared the night prior.

"Anything's better than rations, in my experience." It was true, being as that was largely what he lived off of in the years since the glassing, the thought of a cooked meal forcing his mouth to begin watering, if only a hint. "... place looks odd empty." He mused on the state of the cafeteria, taking a break from looking to the cheerful Azrik, adopting a reflective expression as he did.