Connor Mueller's Story

Mueller walks in from the docks, and looks up at the holographic banner, reading it. He carefully removes his rifle, an M-14 style affair, and holds it carefully as he removes the magazine and racks the chamber, deftly catching the bullet as he continues into the line to enter. He doesn't really have a ship to leave his stuff in, so he decides he better turn in his stuff at the door, he thinks as he loads the round into the detached magazine, which he then slips into his vest.
He carefully scans his surroundings, thinking of his goals. Ditch the uniform and find some decent clothes to wear. Get a ship out of the place after he's found a group to stick with, hopefully finding work somewhere along the way. Avoid law enforcement, especially any Colonial Union groups. Don't get caught, don't get registered anywhere. In quietly, out quietly.
He removes his sheath from his hip, holding a deadly-looking knife of about 13 inches inside, and places it in his cradled arm. He takes off his pack, again removing a sheathed blade, this time a machete, and places it in his arms as well, all the while slowly shuffling forward through registration. He gives a moment of thought and then removes his helmet, placing the bladed items in the bowl-like shape, and then goes on to remove and unload his pistol, ejecting the magazine and opening the chamber to place the bullet back in the magazine, again throwing the weapon into his helmet, all the while clumsily holding his rifle in his hand as he does so.
He's sure he draws some eyes but does his best to ignore it. He shuffles ever closer to the front of the line.
He looks around again, not at his surroundings, but at the people. It's quite something to glance at, and every time he looks away from a certain group, he finds it drawn back to stare at some odd-looking individual.
Damn, off-world shock training doesn't tell you about anything like this.
He was used to the idea of deploying with a group but being alone felt even more intimidating. Thinking of the possibility of violence, he carefully slips a wooden set of knuckle dusters onto his hand, the steel-hard wood carved with the wavy K'Lath script, saying "GOOD SLEEP TIME," in a rough translation. He's ready to pass it off as jewelry.

Carmen Dellevon passed by someone who looked like they were attempting to hide something in their hands, quickened her pace, and swore off Blue Heaven for the remainder of time itself. A shame, as it seemed to be a cool and up and coming place. At least in this neck of the galaxy.

Haruka's shock worse off enough for her to grasp reality, and speaking of grasping, she saw she was holding the key. She watched that woman, Carmen, leave to the docks. As Haruka left the lines she hurried her pace, pulling out her phone from her bag, several unanswered texts and notifications on it, she began panic dialing a number, not the authorities but one she's grown to call on habit when things got dire. As she waited for the call to go through she twisted her head back and forth in a near-paranoid manner. Please pick up, please pick u-, the ring is cut off.

"Haruka!? Where are you!?" a woman's voice is heard over the phone. "You-"

"Auntie, I- I went to Blue Heaven, I think Jouji is-," she began to say.

"Alone!? And if he is there, what then? You... we left the family, maybe your brother is still the same inside, or maybe time has... and to Kurogane and his men? You don't know, do you? I told you to wait for me! I have people," her aunt scolds, clearly distressed.

"Auntie, listen!" Haruka yelled a bit louder than she intended, shrinking down after and covering her mouth as she slinks by, she began to talk more quietly and held the phone close to her face. "I think something- I think somebody is dead, I just had a contact reaction with some lady, a um... Carmen? I think I caught was her name, she locked me out almost immediately, but for a moment she was wide open, overconfidence I think, but- I'm headed to Hotel Zafiro right now."

"Do you think he's involved?" her aunt asks.

"No, seems to be purely a Dellevon family affair," she whispers back.

"Don't get caught in the crossfire," her aunt responds.

"I won't," Haruka said, trying to regain her composure.

"Come home soon, okay? Love you," her aunt says, still very worried.

"I will, and... love you too," Haruka said.

Mueller looks over at a... well, it was female, at least. He knew that. He thinks for a moment, then steps out of line to walk over.
"... I think somebody is dead..."
He patiently waits, doing his best not to listen in. When the woman is finished, he coughs lightly, bringing his fist to his mouth, and then says, in a polite manner, "Um, excuse me, Ma'am, are you OK? Do you... uh..." He winces at the awkward introduction, then makes a flash decision and shows her the patch on his shoulder, the symbol of the Colonial Expeditionary Forces. "Uh, I'm with the Colonial Union, I can help if there's any trouble. Y'know, uh, security for people who are traveling around the Perseus Arm. Exped Forces, y'know?"
He winces again, knowing that they're a while away from the Perseus arm, being four months by travel Colonial Union ships. The Orion Spur is pretty close, but still.
He pauses for a second before continuing. "Is somebody hurt?"

Haruka had just finished her call when somebody came up beside her, almost startling her. She placed her phone back into her bag and looked over to him... and a little down. Despite everything, for all intents and purposes this man seemed trustworthy. A stark contrast to the woman that she had had the displeasure of accidentally connecting to. He actually seemed concerned... was she that obvious? Damn, Jouji was always the cool-headed one.

There was something... off about his story, about being with the Colonial Union, but sort of true as well? It wasn't her place to pry, it was just that bit of comfort that somebody was offering. But can she just dump something like this on a stranger, that she had some... psychic connection with a possible murderer? Nah, leave that out. And if so, dragging somebody in would be... what if something happens? She'd be responsible. But he would be trained, she thinks. She takes in a deep breath and tries to say it as calmly as possible.

"WellyouseeIwasherefo-," she coughs and collects herself, not like that.[i] "That lady in the blue hood, I think- no I [i]know, she mentioned something about having somebody done in at Hotel Zafiro, and that is where I was to meet with my brother, and... the way she- she said it, was so... cold, and satisfied, and I'm just- I hope he isn't mixed in, or hurt."

The first thing Mueller thinks is, Damn. Law enforcement may have to get involved. He nods politely, and then calmly states, "Alright. Did you catch a name, any notable features? We can report this to... uh... actually, wait a second."
He reaches down, into a hip pouch, and pulls out two radio-looking devices. "These are VTC's, they're basically just radios. You know what a radio is? Do those show up outside of Klendath? Nevermind. Basically, we can split up, I'll go after whoever. Probably the, uh, the hooded lady. I don't know if I could identify your brother. You get in through the lines, you can look for him. I was supposed to meet a dude here, you can find him in the Starwind Plaza. Look for Jack Donovan. Big guy, leather jacket, goatee-looking beard. Glasses. You can't miss him. What does that lady look like? Was she the one I saw heading into the docks?"
Please, just don't get too loud about it. Last thing I need is cops, he thinks.

"Yes, that was her, she had... dark hair, um, Carmen Dellevon I think is her name, blue hood, big um, blue... sapphire? Earrings, um... hair is done up in some kind of," Haruka says quietly motioning around the sides of her head before she hesitantly she takes one of the radios. She takes a brief moment to familiarize herself with it before continuing on. "Sure, I think I- huh? Well, just be careful, I think she may have been armed? And... um, okay, what should I say to him when I see him?"

"I don't think it'll be a problem if she's armed, I'm decent enough to hold my own. Uh, I'll get security or something if it's really a problem."
He looks behind him, back toward the lines, and then turns back to Haruka. "Oh, yeah. Just tell him Specialist Mueller sent you, try and ask him for help, tell him the story. If he doesn't buy it, just hand him the VTC and I'll talk to him. Sorry if this is all rushed, I just have a feeling something is... off. I'm trying to figure it out. Oh, yeah, Donovan may get a bit... er... Well, just try and bear with him. He's kind of a serious dude."
He removes a magazine and inserts it into his rifle, then chambers the round. He grins awkwardly, then says, "Uh, just in case. I'll see you soon."
He turns and begins jogging towards the docks. "Jesus, I really hope so. What did I just get into?"

Sometimes one always seemed to be a step behind.

This was the unfortunate case as Confessor Mashad disembarked from a sleek imperial Corvette that flew under a false registration, and forged papers that disguised it as a privateer vessel. He didn't appear to be much except for his short cropped brown hair, and lush dark indigo suit that was adorned with a simple lapel pin, a spiral emblem of interlocking plates that denoted the office of the Imperial Confessors, an elite secret police that many within the empire feared.

He looked around and frowned, it was a big station and he had to figure out where to search first.

AHSC Esteem
Reverence II Class Planetary Assault Carrier
Imperial Defense Force

CIC

Admiral Hanley didn’t think she would once again find herself back at the Blue Heaven, with the miniscule asteroid prominently displayed within the center of the large, and airy command center within one of the largest, and most powerful Imperial Aschen warships in the galaxy. Her eyes were focused on the Blue Heaven much like a predator’s would be as it surveyed it’s prey. The shimmering blue, red, and green icons denoting various ships coming and going as well as their various vectors were displayed alongside the blue heaven, and the vectors for the Imperial formation that surrounded the Blue Heaven like a blockade, menacing any traffic that was coming, and going.

Hanley kept her hands firmly clasped behind her back, breaking her interlocked fingers only momentarily to push some errant strands of red hair out of her face. She was staring stonefaced at the display, and then she broke her gaze to avert towards her executive officer, Colonel Juergen Belzen, a middle aged, physically fit man with an olive complexion, a man of clear Tauron descent.

“Colonel, take us on a docking approach, use due caution I’d hate for the whole thing to strike the hull. Gravitic distortions or not, we should announce ourselves rather than sit out here, menacing the station. Line it up with Airlock truss Alpha nine.” Hanley added as she looked back towards the display.

“Admiral, there’s what appeares to be a civilian freighter blocking our approach vector. I have not parsed the origin, but it appears it’s make and design are unique.” The Colonel reported.

“Registration inquiry complete, Admiral.” A holographic woman flickered into view immediately on the console besides Hanley, offering her a warm smile. “Registration ‘Yamaya’ Origin unknown, comparing design features with all known vessels.”

While EVE Set to work, and Colonel Belzen set to plotting their approach vector, Hanley settled into her own position at the main console, briefly surveying the hundreds of people within the Esteem’s CIC Going about their functions like a well oiled machine, as was expected for those within the Imperial Military.

—-

All three of the Esteem’s massive plasmic-fusion drives came to life with a brilliant blue-green glow. Gracefully, the massive Reverence class lurched forward through the crowded blackness of space, slipping free from it’s position among the Imperial fleet, and crossing the vast gulf between itself, and the asteroid. The closer the sleek, yet bulbous Aschen warship approached, the larger it seemed to be, clocking in at roughly twenty three kilometers long, and nearly two thirds as wide, and deep. The Reverence II was a self contained city, carrying a compliment of soldiers, logistical personnel, and the manufacturing capabilities to keep an entire fleet supplied on even the longest deployments. It passed within a scant two kilometers above where the Yamaya was docked, and it’s sheer size was now glaringly obvious. It’s hull plating bore the years of battles, followed by refits, followed by even more battles as the iridescent alien material the massive ship was clad in seemed to be new in some places, and worn in others.

One could even make out recessed weapon emplacements that were easily as large as some civilian heavy freighters. These Turbodisruptor batteries were capable of unleashing enough destruction to flatten cities, and their power sources were linked through quick-charge capacitors to the Reverence’s gargantuan Deuterium-tritium cold fusion reactors.

The void filled with a static charge as the warship’s energy shields cycled, armored plates retracting to reveal a modest docking bay where transport shuttles were being fueled, and prepared for departure. It was at that moment a trio of sleek, and angular looking Raptor Talon starfighters passed beneath the Yamaya, rolling to starboard, and jetting along the Esteem’s hull.

While the helm crew of the Esteem carefully maneuvered the ship into position, Hanley watched the Blue Heaven on her display. Her eyes narrowed.

“What should we do about the freighter?” Belzen asked.

“They’ll get the message.” Hanley said, shifting her weight and clasping her hands behind her back once more.

Mueller stares out the docking bay window as he jogs into the docks. Holy- Is that a Reverence? The entire CU Navy had been trained in recognizing opposition ships, and he supposes with the inclination towards "sovereign stateship" or whatever the Aschen were into, they could show up really anywhere. He glances over at the Yamaya, and sees that it's in the way of this massive monstrosity of a ship. Oh, shit. He pulls out his VTC and cranks a dial until he's in Hailing range of the Yamaya. Hey, this is a passerby to the Yamaya, there's an Aschen Reverance-Class trying to shoulder you out. I don't know where you're from but these people don't frakk around. Heads up!
He knew that something bad was about to happen, and he forgets, for the moment, about his task of finding the blue-cloaked woman.

A message blipped onto the comms of all ships docking, and attempting to dock, at Blue Heaven.



After a long moment, the last word popped up to complete the broadcast.

Delfye

Something blotted out the wan light of distant Sol as it approached the asteroid colony.

Jesus Christ, that is a big ship. Delfye thought. He had stolen borrowed a lot of vehicles over the years. He had been the legitimate pilot of a somewhat smaller number. Of those, not one of them amounted to a kitten fart to the hurricane of metal and machinery that was cozying up to the asteroid.

“Ahh… fuck me.” The sammaran muttered yet again, now looking past the Ravana to the large transparisteel ceiling of the pressurized berths, where he could see…a part of the immense warship. Just what he needed; ten thousand randy Space Nazis flooding Blue Heaven when he was already trying to find a needle in this haystack.

If he hadn’t liked Conrad, he might have had a nasty chuckle at the way the Reverence made its approach--like the Yamaya wasn’t even there. But he had liked the captain well enough, and was glad to see how she quickly undocked and used the Yamaya’s maneuvering thrusters to skedaddle to a berth on the far side of Blue Heaven. Good thing she hadn’t been sleeping. He assumed the freighter would redock somewhere else on BH. She certainly wasn’t going to get very far with her crew all ashore. She wasn’t solely held together with chicken-wire and bubblegum, like some of the ships Delfye had worked on; there was some string and duct-tape binding her guts together too. Still, she needed a full crew compliment to keep all her pieces flying in close formation to one another.

Well, better hurry. He concluded. Best find out what his PI had uncovered, before the Aschens arrived. Delfye wasn’t terribly concerned about the new arrivals, beyond their ability to overcrowd the station and generally get in the way. Even when he had been working for Intercorp he had never rated imperial notice. The Aschen high muckety-mucks were racist pricks, but they maintained discipline enough down through the ranks that their presence didn’t crush whoever’s throat they were standing on--unless they wanted it crushed.

With these thoughts in mind, Delfye hustled to the appointed meeting place, off the Blue Heaven Main Promenade.

Bartholemew Kerrigan looks over the surrounding hustle and bustle with disdain, casting a heavy sigh as he begins the by-foot trek through an as-always busy Blue Heaven.

Another brothel special, I'm guessing...

he mumbled before proceeding through the gates towards the interior of the majestic superstructure.

Blue Heaven Docks and Maintenance was filled with a loud buzz for exactly 3.14 seconds, followed by a public message. A voice calmly blared through the sound system for all to hear above the din.



Unfortunately, there were just too many vessels attempting to dock. The staff was quickly overwhelmed, doing their best to acommodate those who had been waiting & still follow policy. They figured if nobody went through the checkpoint, they did their job just fine.

The docks began to get jam packed. A line formed at a vending machine over there.

The small transport ship, ever so covertly popped back into normal space, a process that would have taken hours at least took mere mere seconds. Belle was taken aback, nowhere was Xamoyos anymore and instead she saw... something else coming into view, a stark contrast to the greens and blues of a life-rich planet and instead the artificial lights of a more intentional structure.

Belle didn't know why the systems of the Deep 17 transport reacted to her input, but it was as if it were made for her in some way, or her for it? This chunk of rock in space was her destination all the same for some reason. But she felt many beings collected, a place where she may no longer feel alone, and find purpose. As the lights of the cockpit flickered, a voice came over the control panel.

"Oh woOoow! Seriously, a neoprimordial entity!? Those aren't too common, I think? Can you speak, do you have a naAaame? Also hi, I'm Bashemath, and I'm sooOOoo interested in knowing eEEeeverything about you! Oh and um, you are currently like grandthefting some Deep 17 tech," a very upbeat young woman's voice was heard speaking, and Belle was suddenly curious as to where it was coming from. "Um, how did you know how to operate it, anyways? Like, the bio-metric scanner shouldn't have allowed anything non-human to operate, which meaaans... um... actually you're getting kinda close to the Blue Heaven docks, you dooOOo know how to land... riiIIIiiight?"

Belle has no idea what this voice is talking about, but it is interesting! She poked at the buttons with her thin fingers, hoping that at least one of them would open this flying contraption. Also, why were the lights in the craft starting to flash red, and why was it now making an annoyingly loud whining noise?

Moments later a Deep 17 vessel approaches for landing... and crash lands onto the docks, skidding across on its side before flopping over upside down to a stop.

"Wow, that was um... uh... uhhh... haha, you must be kinda bruised up huh? Lemme open the emergency door for you... wait, what? Jammed?" Bashemath says as Belle, finally locating the voice, has taken the communication device and coiled it in her long prehensile tail. She also now seemed to be wearing, rather ill-fittingly, a spare Deep 17 lab coat. She squeezed her way out of the cracked open exit door, dislocating and relocating limbs as she pulled herself free of the wreckage but seems absolutely unaffected outside of some strain. ""That... looked painful, yet... uh, not for you, huh? You just kinda... shift around. Cool~! Wait, are you SAVING me? I'm not a-"

Belle looked around the docking area, there was a huge one of those vessels... even bigger than her! Probably best to leave that one alone. Her ears twitched at a rattling sound, knocking, and moved towards it, bouncing off luggage and other vehicles along the way, rather acrobatically given her size. When she finally reached the sound, a... well, seemed like a winged... human? Such a strange thought, have they acquired the ability to morph as well?

Leaning over, she began to knock on the airlock as well. Maybe there was something to this strange ritual?

Belle understood more than the winged girl knew, and she studied the door. She gave what seemed a perplexed expression to Miiya as she assaulted the door. Tilting her head to the side. This was no different than the containment doors back in the old place, green means open, red means don't open.

"O... pen," she uttered. Trying to tell her that it could just be opened now. She casually raised one of her claws and gripped the manual override handles and pulled. "See?"

Belle took to watching the events unfold and noticed things sort of deescalate pretty quickly. There were oddities in their tones, but from what she could gather, there was some familial quality between the supposed kidnapper and supposedly kidnapped. She waved in at Delfye, but gave an odd look at his cybernetic enhancements and gave an odd look at him. Despite everything Belle remained composed and calm, even in such a shift in scenery from the overgrowth of Xamoyos, like she doesn't even experience culture shock like most do.

"So, now that this is resolved, could you please now turn yourself over to Deep 17? That w-," Bashemath was heard over the communicator Belle was still holding with her tail. Belle was, however distracted with a sound, her ears twitched, picking up an intense irregularity in the winged girl's heartbeat. She stepped carefully over to Miiya, and leaned over to look at her in the face. Then carefully curled her tail around offering it as a makeshift seat, which, given its size could easily accommodate her. She had seen this before. She was just at the cusp of heart failure.

"Slow... deep breaths," she said in a voice almost ill befit the frame it occupied. It was calm, soft spoken, yet a bit husky. She was repeating what she had heard before, having observed similar in her time of containment, but was also trying to keep Miiya lucid. "In, 1-2-3, out."

As the security arrived, Belle's general composure... didn't shift dramatically, she had no intention to resist authority, or to fight for that matter. She could seriously hurt them, and she wasn't alright with that thought. And Miiya? Well, she still needs time to regulate her heartbeat. Then the comm speaks up.

"Excuse me, hello? This is Bashemath Addler, of Deep 17! The creature before you is a profoundly intelligent neoprimordial lifeform and, despite her looks... what form she's currently using, anyways, is not, and I repeat NOT a threat. She's currently administering aid to the young lady, not a captive! Just hold her and we'll be by to pick her up... and whatever is left of the lander," Bashemath said over the communicator. "Just um... refrain from violence? That'd be bad, kay?"