Snippet #2395417

Captain Solid didn't seem too pleased with the various answers she received. If her expression could be seen, it would have likely been seething.

"You," she says, pointing at Marcus. "Will not touch any console on my ship. It contains classified information that, if you through some dumb stroke of luck managed to happen upon, would result in your necessary execution. Let me make something clear," she continues, looking around briefly. "You are not my crew. You will not be my crew. You are on my ship, for the time being, as we make for our destination. If that is not perfectly clear, I'll show you to the airlock."

"Sliver," she says to the man, who stands at attention quickly. "Go get your friend out of Engineering." He salutes, placing a hand over his chest and forming a half-wing, before he trots off.

The Captain pointedly did not offer her hand to Clarke in exchange for his own. Instead, she looks him up and down. She was moderately tall for a woman, but nothing close to his size. "Judicator Clarke of Echo-Squad," she repeats, rolling the phrase off her tongue. "You seem to be the only one here capable of any sort of competence, so I am putting you in charge of these miscreants. We'll be arriving at the rendezvous within two hours. I'll keep you informed of anything you need to know." With that, she walks from the hold and takes a left, into the room opposite the door Cor had run through.


Cor's 'latrine' was not much like those on other ships. Apparently, the crew didn't care much for privacy. There was a modest toilet, shower, and a curtain for it, but the rest of the room she had locked herself in was apparently the primary gunnery and engineering station, simply judging by the array of equipment lining the high-tech walls.

And, she wasn't alone.

Another figure in full jumpsuit was sitting on a bench with his (or her) back to the door, fiddling with some piece of strange technology. "S'that you Cap," asks a male voice in a curious, unplaceable accent, not looking up from his work.