Why Everything (Antoinette)
Invictus - Bridge =>Invictus<=
The ship's bridge is not that large, and therefore only the bare basics are put there. The Flight and Co-Pilot consoles are placed beside each other with the NavSat sitting between them, and the Captain's Chair sits some six feet behind them centered as to give the best panoramic view. The Comm/Sensor Console is located to the right of the Captain's Chair. The front view ports of armored glass are sizable and provide a clear and relatively unrestricted view. Behind the consoles to the back of the Bridge lies the stairway down to the Crew Commons, able to be locked with an armored hatch.
Grey sits in the Captain's Chair and straps down, giving Glenn Wise a nod. That's all that's needed for the new pilot to nod in return, and fire the ship up. "Boros, Mister Wise," the Captain instructs before lighting up a smoke and downing a long gulp of gin out of his bottle. "All right. Let's put all our intel together."
Gabriella immediately crosses the bridge to the comm console where she had been directed earlier, dropping down into it and pulling her laptop/pda unit out of her bag and setting it on top. She sets the connectors in place, and begins pulling up the data scrounged from the Antoinette on the console in front of her.
Annika patiently trails in the wake of the rest of the crew, content to wait for more information. Patience not usually one of her virtues. She finds a safe place to lean against, trying to squeeze into a space not really meant to hold so many. She crosses her arms over her stomach and listens.
Alabaster Smith settles into a seat as well, making himself comfortable in the co-pilot chair again. He takes a sip from his own personal flask, an unconscious sort of fluid gesture, and looks to be gathering his thoughts together. "Ah suggest you start, Captain, since you seem to have the largest picture at the moment."
Tyr ends up on the bridge with everyone else, since that seems to be where everyone else went. "Hey, Wren," he murmurs, scooting towards her. Maybe he can find out just what was going on back there.
Grey nods to Alabaster. "Good notion," he says, pulling up his own notes. "Here's what I got so far. Add information as you want, tell me where I'm wrong, fill in the gaps." He clears his throat and picks the cigarette out of his lips. "Ship: Lady Antoinette. Owner and Captain: Charles Wellington IV. Deceased in Private Suite. Three letters: Shredded letter and empty envelope from Mikhailov. Rose-scented letter with flowery language from 'D', assumed to be Deborah. Bill sent from BGY Power, for 3 million credits."
Wren slips onto the bridge, and works at finding the spot that will put her the farthest away from Annika. Scooting over a bit to make room for Tyr, she gives him a grateful smile before turning back to listen to Grey speak.
"I want a check done on that name, Mikhailov. I also want info on BGY Power - I want that bill traced. What does he owe three million for? What's the relationship between 'D' and Wellington? He's married with two kids. Is it an affair?" He looks down at his notes for a moment, taking a puff of his cigarette before continuing. "That brings us to Deborah Malkovich. Deceased in Cockpit. Corpse was a greyish color, eyes red from her blood vessels. What's her position on the boat?"
"Knuckles O'Malley. Sounds like a brawler, him, whether or not that's a nickname. My guess is that he was ship security. Deceased in Crew Quarters, with a few scrapes on him. Don't have much info on him. Did he have red puffy eyes as well?" Down to the notes again, sip of gin. "Wrench Henry. Engineer. Found deceased in Engineering Room - eyes puffy and red. There was a bump on his head. A wrench with a spot of blood in the same room." He looks over to Wren. "Ain't that right?"
Grey continues after finishing off his cigarette and lighting another one. "And then the last on the roster, the real mystery. Walden Mavermathy - pilot. Not found aboard. Not even with my NV/IRs set to Thermal. That means he's either not on the gorram ship, he's masking his heat signature, or he ain't got no warmth left in his body no more."
Wren bobbles her head up and down at Grey, holding her towel covered wrench as if it were a prize. ...A fragile prize.
Alabaster Smith tosses into the mix, "Charles Wellington the Fourth. Known to be a family man, with two children. Philanthropist and entrepreneur. Exports food to Rim worlds, opens up soup kitchens, gives money to charities, and at last report, was opening up a boarding school for underprivileged Rimfolk here on Bernadette, the most likely reason for his trip today." He waits until Grey has spoken again, and adds, "'D' presumably Deborah Malkovich. On the bridge, they found a book which had doodles of hearts, sunshines, and flowers. The initials 'CW + DM' factored in heavily as well. She was wearing what was thought to be Wellington's robe when she died. Oh, the book in question might have been a communications log or manual, from the brief look I got of it."
Grey flips a couple pages in his notes, going through auxiliary notes. "Ship's course was set from Hera to Bernadette. She has half a tank of gas. Engines and burners were turned off, even though the Reactor was on. Deborah was assumedly piloting the craft, though she's not identified as the pilot on the roster." He looks up from his notes. "Questions. Notes. Comments. Additions."
Tyr screws up his brow at all of this. "So what does that leave us with?" he asks. "Some sort of -- disease? Or -- murders? Or --" Tyr isn't much of a crime scene investigator.
Gabriella reaches into the pocket of her hoodie, coming up with first, a pack of cigarettes, which get immediately stuffed back in, and then coming out again with a orange plastic pill bottle that she pulls open, palming one of the pills in between her lips and tucking back away again. "I can tell you a lot of what didn't play a factor." She says, scrolling through her info. "No atmospheric disturbances, no poisons, foreign bodies, or gasses present on board. No comms were sent ship to ship or internally for at least six hours before the unknown event. The only items logged on sensors for the six hours previous was Bernadette and a couple of shuttles, none of which raised the Antoinette or made any data transmissions to or from. No personal logs or journals that have any data relevant to the unknown event, the last log listed under Wellington's files was titled "Hey honey, I'm having a great time", presumably to be sent to his wife." She pauses, glancing over her data once more.
"No shuttles or small craft were assigned to the Antoinette, and there was no shuttle bay or enough space in the cargo bay for one to have been tucked away before hand. Plus, there was no sensory logs of any ship departing the Antoinette after the distress call."
Gabriella says in English, "Walden Havermathy is listed as the Pilot." She adds as an afterthought. "
The ship shakes as the pulse drives are disengaged. You feel the ship begin to slow.
Annika doesn't miss Wren's attempts to steer clear of her, but she can't be bothered with it right now. Her gold eyes flick briefly over the woman, then back to the captain as she listens. She says nothing as everyone gives their reports, instead listening intently. When Gabriella rattles her pills, it draws her attention momentarily, but then it returns to the discussion. "How many ships responded to the call?"
[903.34 MHZ] Grey says, "This is Invictus. Slowing to approach velocity, preparing to dock into Bone Yard. Over." [903.34 MHZ] Brian says, "Tienlong here, we just touched down. See you in a few."
"Five in total," Grey says to Annika. "Ourself, Tienlong, Kitsune, Arctic Raider, Alliancemen." He looks up at the viewport. "Down into the Bone Yard we go, Mister Wise. Steady as she goes, watch out for the Lady Antoinette. Take us straight down with a vantage point."
The discussion flows over Wren, her eyes slightly unfocused as she listens to what everyone has to say. The small rattle of the pills draws her notice and her gaze back to Gabriella, a small furrow forming between her eyes.
The ship shudders as the drop rockets engage and the ship begins its descent. The ship sways and bumps as it makes contact with the ground surface.
"How long will it take to get blood results back to see if there's any residual chemicals in/on the crew's persons?" Gabriella inquires, glancing towards Zahara. "And is that something the other crews are going to be willing to share, seeing as this has turned into a joint effort?" She asks Grey.
Annika nods briefly in acknowledgement of Grey's comment. She frowns slightly, perhaps frustrated she had orders to stay on the ship, which puts her at a disadvantage. Expressing her frustration, she asks, "Is that all you saw? Some dead bodies and a few letters and a book? No signs of a struggle? No food left half eaten or glasses half full?" She snorts softly beneath her breath.
Grey unstraps himself from the Captain's Chair and begins to head down the stairs. "Uncertain. I know little to nothing about medical procedures. That's the Good Doctor's field - I'll consult with her later. Right now, I'm givin' her the space she needs to do what she does best." He stops at the top of the stairs with a shrug. "I can't speak for the others. I /will/ speak for us. We're not in this for our own gain - there's nothing to be gained. We're in this to figure this shit out, an' put some peoples' deaths to reason. I ain't particular of mysteries hanging in my sky." He turns fully around to face all of them. "Not everyone who was over there is here on the Bridge right now, so you can relay my words to them. I'm proud of the way you all handled yourselves today. This ain't part of the job. This ain't part of any duty, except the duty of bein' a human being." He smiles faintly and locks eyes with everyone there in turn, including Gabriella. "Now... I have to confer with the other Captains. But, you will know everything I will know. That's the way it works on this boat, always. See if you can figure anything out in the meantime... I'll keep comm channels open, and relay information back as I can." And with that, he's down the stairs and gone.
Gabriella's eyes closed, though they could be seen dancing back and forth beneath closed lids. "The body in the crew bunks had scrapes on his hands, but they did not look immediately recent. The body of the engineer in the engineering bay had a scrape over his left eyebrow, and a wrench nearby had a dab of blood on it, though again, neither looked fresh. Both bodies were discolored to a grey hue, and their eyes were blood shot, the blood vessels on the lower lids swollen and irritated." Lids raised, icy white eyes glancing back to Annika. "I saw no signs of interruption of a meal in the galley, though the crew member in the bunks was in the middle of the room clad only in his undergarments." She glances towards Grey as he speaks, nodding in acknowledgement of his words.
Annika nods to Gabriella's immediate recall, admiring her attention to detail, "What next?"
Alabaster Smith hmmms. "Ah reckon we see what the Captain manages to learn at the meeting, and go from there. Ah'm starting to work through a few ideas, but Ah can't say anything concrete yet."
Annika hmmms softly under her breath, letting the information sit with her. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, in turn shifting which hip is balanced against the equipment. "How do the other ships figure into all this going forward? Gabriella's question's a good one."
Gabriella leans back, staring at the consoles and pda's in front of her, fingertips drumming idly on her bare stomach... "I've started some searches running on the cortex, looking for similar symptoms, but it may take a while. I'm also looking through some data streams for files on the crew and the like, but." She sighs, "It all takes time. I've got no ideas yet as to what could have caused this, unless the pilot went through one by one and injected or subdued the crew. A possibility, true, but how he got off the ship..." She shakes her head, pulling out a cigarette and striking a match against the matchbox Alabaster had given her the day before.
Annika cocks her head to the side, "Well, maybe he didn't get off, then, seeing as how no shuttles left the ship. His body must be somewhere. Dead or alive. Maybe ya'll just didn't look hard enough."
Gabriella puffs a half dozen times to light the cigarette before shaking out the match and dropping it into the nearest ashtray/trash bin. "It's a possibility, of course. Not like we had all the time in the world. If we get all the living crew off the Antoinette, we can run some full sensor sweeps and look for any life signs, or any areas of the ship that has any extra shielding, compare the schematics to the actual dimensions of the ship, looking for any hide-a-ways."
Annika nods to Gabriella, with a look on her face that says, 'that's just what I was thinking.' As the crew starts to disperse, she pushes up from her resting place and lets her hands fall back to her sides, "Maybe next time I won't be ordered to stay on board. I'm not one for philanthropic gestures, but mysteries make me curious."
"The ship's been docked on Boros, if I read the comms right. Might get a chance to look around for yourself here soon." Gabriella says with a flash of a smile towards Annika, revealing the elongated and sharpened fangs in place of her canines.
Alabaster Smith muses, quietly, "Ah'm leaning towards either some sort of illness, or purposeful sabotage, but Ah don't know enough yet. Ah could be very wrong, after all."
Annika can't help but quirk an eyebrow at the woman's unusual teeth. That's not something you see every day. Not commenting on them, she instead nods, and says, "Plan to." She turns to Smith, brows knitting slightly, "Certainly either could be the case." To both, at large, she asks, "What're we doing here at the Bone Yard?"
"I think it was the closest ship yard to where we were in the black." Gabriella says towards Annika, eyes closing as her fingers drum across her stomach, as if she was typing on a keyboard.
Annika gives another nod to the strange woman without a name, eyes noting the thrumming fingers. Apparently convinced there's nothing more to learn tonight, she makes her way toward the exit. "We'll put Bowman on Mia's detail tomorrow. I wanna get a look at that ship myself." With that, she starts to step out, "I'll be headin' to bed now that all the excitement is over."
"Have a good night, Ms. Cardan." Gabriella calls from behind still closed eyes as the other woman heads towards the door with a flicker of a smile.
Alabaster Smith tosses an idle, friendly wave at Annika. "Good night, Nika. Sleep well, if you can," he says cheerfully.
Through all this Wren has remained silent, hazel green eyes occasionally flickering across people's faces in response to some detail or thought. "Why?" she wonders now, once the room has quieted again.
"Why what?" Gabriella says, swiveling the chair back to face the room at large, white eyes finding Wren wherever it is that she's tucked herself away. Legs stretch out and rest on the chair across from her, feet crossing at the ankles, another cigarette being lit.
Alabaster Smith looks over to peer at Wren as well, curiously. "What's on your mind, Wren?" he asks.
"Why everything," Wren repeats, shifting to find a more comfortable position on the floor where she's been sitting. "If... there was killin', why?" she explains a bit, glancing over to Alabaster as he chimes in. "Lots, especially Annika," she informs him, and then shakes her head. "An' if not, why hide from rescuers?"
Gabriella's brow arched with amusement at the answer Wren provided to Alabaster's question, an amused smile pulling at the pierced corner of her lips. She remained leaned back and quiet, taking a long draw from her cigarette, exhaling a slow smoke ring, her gaze drifting towards the Shepherd to see what his response would be before providing her own.
Alabaster Smith chuckles at Wren. "A good answer," he agrees. "Ah really do need to phrase mah questions a little better. But you have good points, and Ah suspect a lot of our answers will hinge upon finding that missing man."
"What if he ain't missin'? Wren wonders next, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms loosely around them.
"Oh, he is missing, one way or the other." Gabriella says from the comm console's seat, "The crew roster says he was on board when they left, and he isn't now. If he is alive, and he killed the rest of the crew, it's either cause a: there was something valuable that wasn't listed on the manifest, and was small enough to hide away with him. Or b: they all pissed him off. But this doesn't seem like something done in a fit of rage to me. Too neat."
Alabaster Smith nods thoughtfully. "Far too many factors that haven't quite tied in together yet. Ah suspect a medical examination of the bodies will help clear a lot of things up. If it doesn't raise even more questions."
"Sometimes what you see isn't what you see," Wren notes to herself, voice soft and contemplative. Her gaze lifts briefly to Alabaster, an odd expression flashing over her face for just a moment before she sighs. "Gotta open'em up an' look inside. There's always a secret to delve or pull... Under the skin," she rambles a little, eyes losing focus again.
"I'd gather from the transmission, and what I've been told about what was found in the cockpit, it was Ms. Deborah that made the SOS call. Though, "We're in trouble! There is a--" Doesn't exactly sound like 'Help, the pilot's killing us all...'" She says with a shrug. She yawns, revealing the expanse of fangs and tongue ring once again before, glancing back towards Alabaster with a grin. "One hell of an interview though, wadn't it, preacher man?" Her gaze flickers to Wren with yet another arching of the brow, but she refrains from comment, instead just giving the girl a mix of smirk and smile.
Alabaster Smith chuckles at Gabriella. "If it were up to me, Ah'd say you'd passed with flying colors, mah dear. Ah think the Captain was impressed with your results." He glances to Wren, nodding slowly. "Well put."
Wren stares unabashedly as Gabriella's mouth opens wide with a yawn, the flashing metal and pointy teeth drawing her attention. "Did someone do that to you?" she asks with a certain innocent curiosity.
"Do what, mei mei?" Gabriella says towards Wren, catching only the tail end of the look and not the cause. "I'd feel better about it if I'd actually found anything of use." She says with a shake of her head.
Alabaster Smith shrugs at Gabriella, briefly. "Ah don't know as how there was much to be found to begin with... and you did a good job of dredging up what there was. And you never know just how the information will come in handy."
Wren's hands flutter about her face, touching similar places to where Gabriella's piercings are, and then she opens her own mouth very widely and runs a finger along one tooth. "That," she adds unclearly, as she's pinching her tongue between two fingers while trying to say the word.
Gabriella shrugs as well in Alabaster's direction, crushing out the cigarette with a sigh. "I appreciate the praise and all... It's just a waiting game now to see how the puzzle pieces fit is all. And I've never much been known for my patience." She watches Wren's movements, a wide grin and a loose laugh escaping from her. She nods, baring her teeth briefly and then ejecting her tongue out to allow the silver post to be fully seen for a moment. "Kind of hard to do any of it yourself. Although, you do have to hold the tongs yourself for the tongue." She adds with a grin. "I've got some ink, too, though..." She pauses, a smirk and a glance given towards Alabaster. "I'd show you but they're not all exactly befitting the current company." The smirk widens. "And while I'm all for making a Shepherd blush, I think we've had enough excitement for one day."
Alabaster Smith looks serenely unblushable, as he quirks an eyebrow. "Oh, don't mind me. Ah've seen worse in mah time. By all means, now Ah'm curious as well," he states with amusement.
Wren leans forward, pushing herself up on her knees to get a better look at the piercing. Her gaze swivels back and forth between Gabriella and Alabaster, brow crinkled in extreme puzzlement. "How's ink unbefitting?" she asks them both, the last word pronounced much closer to Gabriella's manner of speech than her own.
"It's not the ink itself, it's more the location that might be considered inappropriate to be letting loose in front of a preacher man." Gabriella says towards Wren, though her eyes rested on Alabaster, an amused gleam in her eyes... She didn't seem overly surprised by his reaction though, and she shrugs, sliding to her feet. She slips the hoodie off, the first thing made obvious was a large, angry scar a few inches down from her right shoulder, about five inches in length, an inch or two in width, but she pays it little mind. "Well, here's one for starters." She says, turning her back towards the two occupants of the room, arms raising behind her to pull the edge of red tube top up along her back. Between her shoulder blades, done in varying shades of black, was the infinity sign, though it was detailed to look like a dragon swallowing it's tail. The scales, if anyone looked close enough, were seen to actually be made up of tiny 0's and 1's of programmer's code.
Alabaster Smith leans forward to study the tattoo with an intrigued look. "That's amazing," he says. "Very pretty. And Ah can even appreciate the symbolism behind it. Multi-layered... fascinating." He strokes his chin as he contemplates it.
Gabriella's explanation doesn't seem to abate any of Wren's confusion until she actually pulls the tube top up, and then her mouth forms another one of those silent 'oh's. "Pretty," she comments with a small nod.
Gabriella's head tilts around, to make sure the two had actually had a chance to see it before her overly long fingers released the tube top, smoothing it back into place. "And, here's the next." She says, her hands dropping to undo the multitude of buttons that fasten her camo pants into place, a smirk creasing her face once more, watching the two under half-lidded eyes. Pulling the fly of the pants apart, she doesn't pull the pants all the way down, though it looks like for a moment she might. Instead, she folds the left side of the fabric over, revealing the thin line of red satin bikini style bottoms. Tugging that fabric down as well, the tattoo itself is finally revealed on the almost painfully bony curve of her hip. A falcon stretches over about an eight inch expanse from right below the pierced belly button to over her hip, it's talons digging into the flesh, appearing as if blood drips from where it pierces the flesh. A falconer's hood covers the head of the bird, however, and the left wing is visibly broken, at an offset angle.
Alabaster Smith quirks an eyebrow again, curiously. "Interesting," he muses. "A person could learn a lot from you if they studied your tattoos." He grins. "But that one's quite pretty as well."
Wren cants her head from one side to the other, studying the bird depicted on Gabriella's flesh with a curious intensity. "Can you fix it?" she asks finally, lifting her eyes to search the woman's face.
Gabriella's lips curl upwards in a slightly painful smile, shaking her head, an odd look in her eyes, hidden behind the opalescent contacts. "Some things can't ever be fixed, meimei." She says quietly, releasing her hold on the fabric to pull the pants back into place and refasten them. By he time she looks back up, the look is gone and she glances towards Alabaster, a single eyebrow raised. "Is that so, preacher man?" She questions, an obvious challenge in her tone, though offset slightly by a small smile. "Care to share what you see, oh wise one?" She asks, giving a flash of a grin to Wren as she settles back in her seat, pulling the hoodie back on.
Alabaster Smith smiles brightly at Gabriella. "Not offhand," he says with a chuckle. "Ah think Ah'll hang on to mah observations for a while and see how they pan out. Plus, it's rude to go and analyze someone like that so soon after meeting them."
The look of disappointment and defeat that covers Wren's face at Gabriella's words is oddly strong, but she merely nods her head in agreement. The way she draws back into herself makes it seem as if she's known that for a long time now. "Rude is peeling paint, trapped under your fingernails," she says, looking down at her own hands to study them.
Gabriella watches the emotions filter over Wren's face, her own steady expression not seeming phased too much by the oddities slipping from the girl. Again, without comment to Wren, just a steady smile, she looks back to Alabaster with a slightly disappointed look. "Ah, and here I was looking forward to it." She says, pulling yet another smoke from her pocket.
Alabaster Smith grins at the women, and settles back in his seat. "Ah have to have something to keep you coming back for more," he jokes. "Sorry, mah dear. But curiosity will keep things interesting."
Wren remains quiet, simply watching the interplay between Alabaster and Gabriella.
Gabriella eyes Alabaster critically, a smirk lifting her lips from around her cigarette as she lights it. "You sure you're really a preacher man?" She questions, offering the pack of cigarettes to first Wren and then Alabaster.
Wren blinks at the package of cigarettes as if considering some foreign object, and then plucks a single one free. It doesn't seem as if she knows particularly what to do with it, however, turning the cigarette over and over in her hands.
Alabaster Smith grins at Gabriella. "Ah assure you, Ah'm a preacher through and through. Ah'm just a little more worldly than many of the ones who wander around, waving a Bible and preaching the Word. Ah tend to surprise people, it seems."
Gabriella pulls the box of matches out again, tossing the cigarettes into her pocket. Leaning forward, she strikes the match and lights first her cigarette, and then, cupping the match, extends it out towards Wren, glancing to Alabaster as he replies. "No sermons on hellfire and brimstone, the sins of the flesh, and how greed is the root of all evil?" She questions, only half teasing, though whether anyone could tell the difference was anyone's guess. "You're going to want to breath in real shallow, meimei." She directs her attention back towards Wren, gauging by the girl's reaction to the cigarette she wasn't overly familiar.
Alabaster Smith chuckles at Gabriella, and shrugs. "Ah'm afraid that all mah best hellfire and brimstone material just wasn't going over too well, so Ah've put it aside in order to better take care of mah duties on the ship. Ah cook, occasionally clean, take care of people, and try to keep them out of trouble. Ah don't sermonize too much, and no one lynches me."
There's another little series of blinks as the flame is extended towards Wren, and then she hesitantly places one end of the cigarette into the flame. Of course, she's not actually helping it light, so that whole thing isn't working out so well...
"Hmm. 'Cause lynching's bad for business." Gabriella says dryly, flinching her hand back from Wren as the match burns down to her fingertips, a hiss escaping softly, before she laughs softly. "You've got to breathe in to get the flame to light it, love." She says with a wry grin, this time holding out the matchbox towards Wren. "Why don't you try it yourself." She offers, taking a drag from the cigarette and breathing out through lips that form an O, a lazy smoke ring escaping as she does.
Wren examines the end of the cigarette for a moment and then nods at Gabriella as she instructs on the process of lighting it. Taking the matches, she strikes one, lighting it. There's a moment of obvious confusion as she stares at one hand with the box, the other with the light and neither one with the cigarette. Where, where, where-- oh! right there where she laid it across her knees. There's another moment where it looks as if she might drop the match in order to pick it up, but no, she drops the box and snatches the cigarette up. One end in the mouth, the other in the flame, and... Nothing. Except a bit of scorched Wren when the match burns down. Pulling the cigarette out she stares at it a moment. "Wrong end," she concludes with a frown.
Gabriella's rail thin body is wracked with a sudden burst of coughing as she breathes in right at Wren makes her comment, almond shaped eyes watering as she fights for breath between the coughing and the stifled laughter. Once she managed to calm herself somewhat, she shakes her head, holding her hand out and motioning for the matchbox. "I'm guessing you're not really the smoking type, darlin'." She says, with a smile. Settling back, she props her feet up on the console in front of her, eyes drifting towards the streams of data and images that flicker across the screens, crushing out her own cigarette.
