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Snippet #2066731

located in F.S.S. Salient, a part of Nebula's Dawn: F.S.S. Salient, one of the many universes on RPG.

F.S.S. Salient

The last Neptune Class Battlecruiser commissioned by the Federation. Welcome on board.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jessica "Hyena" MacPhearson
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The party was hardly in full swing. Marines still in danger, a few gunship pilots still hanging out in the void, maintainers in the hangar and engineers at their stations. But that didnt mean it was quiet.

A few decks down from the hangar, where superstructure to support the ships above made this space obsolete for anything but random storage, there are a few bodies already gathered. Hyena, smiling like her namesake before a bloody kill, plucks a contraband cigarette from her lips and blows a hearty wreath of smoke into the air. She was sitting on a toolbox, and before her - used as a table - was an ordinance crate. On its surface is a pile of cards, currency from a dozen governments, jewelery, and an old .45 pistol from a bygone war.

"I'm telling you, I'm good for it." An engineer insists, tapping an IOU slip in front of him with a finger perma-stained with grease.

"Maybe." Hyena retorts, "But we wont know for another 6 weeks, and that's some bullshit since you'd get our cash -now-."

They were debating the validity of using alchohol to stand in for a bet. Not uncommon; it's just that this alchohol was still fermenting in the engineer's hidden, home made still.

The 9-man poker game was only one act of debauchery currently taking place. A small group were holding beers they had smuggled through the coridoors in a bouy tube, playing Flinch - if you dont know, dont ask. Another couple had brought down a game console, and were shouting obscenities at eachother as their virtual avatars blasted, ran over, and stabbed eachother in a game of Halo 27. In the middle of the room, a large space heater had been lain on its back. With its safety grid removed, it was cooking meat 'reappropriated' from the galley. Still others were gathered around their personal computers compiling, selling, and distributing from their impressive collection of porn, pirated movies, and downloaded music.

Trades were taking place all over the party; cigarettes for trinkets and souveniers, porn for metal fabrication, promises of favors or cash at a later date. Someone even had some fireworks. Everything under the sun that might make life a little bit easier and more entertaining in the months to come.

Clyde could be excused for underestimating crewmen from 'dirtier' lines of work, but the Admiral really aught to have known better. There was alchohol here, of course. Some of it downright potent - like the promised moonshine involved in the poker game. But this was the compilation of what people could fit in their seabags or sneak in aboard planes or in shipments, and what they had would have to last for a very long time.

Greenhorns, many, but more then enough old hands at skirting the regulations. Shitfaced sailors would get them ALL caught with a quickness. No one was going to get blasted at something like this. Not so soon in the game, when they would have to go to work tomorrow and maybe have to explain bloodshot eyes or the lingering smell of tobacco.

"It's been a pleasure doing buisness with you, ladies." Hyena laughs heartily as she slaps down her winning hand to the bemused curses of the others. Her arms sweep out to gather her prizes, carefully pocketing the firearm, "You let me know any time you need me to fleece you."

"Fuck that, Picklesuit. Deal me back in."

Illegal as all hell? Absolutely. But stupid? Hardly.