Cargo Culture

Posted on Tue Nov 27th, 2018 @ 12:38am by Lieutenant Commander Mara Ricci & Lieutenant Commander Meilin Jiang & The Narrator

Mission: S1E1: Welcome Home, Now Go Away
Location: Small Crafts Bay, Interior Of Spacedock
Timeline: MD1 10.45AM

"Air's good for 24 hours, batteries for the same. But the EvMU has a compressed carbonate fuel pack. Short bursts from the jet pack, and remember to slow down. Newton's 3rd law and all that. Engineer's who get going fast hit fast and break bones if they don't arrest their forward motion," the man said as he turned from the supply crate, holding the reinforced engineering space suits helmet out in his hands towards Mara. "I run this bay, and before this, I ran the shuttle bay on Rhea Station. Never lost an officer who went outside for a walk, don't intend to now."

He did not let go of the helmet when it was grabbed.

"You're my boss, Boss. But so help me you go and get into heroic danger I'll be right pissed," his Australian accent was only going to get stronger as he talked. "Pissed enough I'll come out there myself sans suit and kick your arse all the way home."

"Understood, Mister Newman," Mara replied gravely; and not mockingly so. "No heroics. You have my word."

Meilin smiled at the man. "You are welcome to join us, if you are so concerned."

"Tempting Commander Jiang," Newman's thick drawl breaking the name into 'Jia'-'ng'. He pointed behind them to an odd-looking contraption of duranium spars, RCS thruster quads and spherical fuel tanks. Along its sides were the bulky tool racks that marked it as a maintenance drone. "But that's why I'm sending qualified help with ya. The EvMU, or Extra-vehicular Maintenance Unit will act as a taxi for you. You see anything too big for you to fix by yourselves, you radio it back to us and I can have a Work Bee and sled out to you with a crew to help get things patched up. But we're not seeing any stress indicators on the container maglocks."

A crewman in overalls walked up to Newman, and whispered something to him. The look on his face was not pleasant. He said something under his breath about clean finger nailed fellows, but it was far enough under his accent to hide the rest. He turned to the two with a breezy smile.

"I am directed to remind you that there's just over seven hours left until we flip the Command Module and break into orbit of the gas giant. Grav plating and inertial compensator's work fun out there in the dock space, so you do not want to be there when this place flips and burns if there's loose tonnage flying around," he turned on his heel and let out a long whistle. "Oi! You lot of bleeding grubbers! Get out of the bay, we're venting in three minutes! You still in here when we do you'll be joining the Commander's outside for a stroll!"

Mara shot a grin to Meilin. "Guess that's our cue to get strapped into this thing," she said, indicating the EvMU. "I don't fancy getting suck out the door."

As if to underpin the statement, yellow hazard lighting began to flash in the corners of the small crafts bay. Most of the people who had been in there were gone, and Newman's craggy face could be seen from the small control room set up in a corner of the room. He gave a thumbs up to the pair, and a dull steady roar began to fill their ears...slowly diminishing to a silent vibration felt through the soles of the boot as the air was sucked out.

Then came the odd sensation of the grav plating switching off. The mag-boots of their suits kept them secured to the deck, needing the rolling strut to disengage. But that didn't stop their bodies from feeling the floating panic of microgravity. Somewhere in the back of their brains was a small primate warning them they were falling from a very tall tree.

Zero-gravity never bothered Meilin. Though she preferred to keep both feet on the ground, the mag-boots were more restrictive than helpful. She disengaged the safety and alighted into the air like a dream. If she ever got into danger, she could re-engage the mag-boots to quickly compensate.

"No heroics," she repeated with mollifying whimsy.

Upon the EmVU's activation, Meilin grasped it tightly and led it as much as allowing it to lead her toward the openness of space. The cyclic balance felt pure and was to her mind an idyllic start to their structural survey.

"Exiting now," she said into the comm. She released one hand from the EmVU to access her tricorder. "Commencing exterior scans."

By contrast, Mara always felt a bit of disorientation in zero-gravity. She did not deactivate her mag-boots, preferring to stay attached to something. "Well, at least my stomach is empty this time," she said as she felt it flip. She took a deep breath to steady herself as she continued along with Meilin and the EmVU.

On small puff's of reaction mass, the toolbox with a rocket motor began to make its way into the deeper water. The interior of the space dock was a lot darker than it should, with a great many of the interior floodlights turned off to save on power. But what light there was enough to let them see shapes and impressions.

They were floating out of the inner core, the large trunk-like dock structure with its four stubby piers. This is where starships would dock to unload crew and supplies.

Below them, on the wide 'floor' of the domed volume, were the shipyards. Thet looked like the closed mandibles and jaws of insects, ready to snap open and provide the framework and manufacturing capabilities needed to repair or build new from whole cloth. One of the berths was open, its docking clamps closed tightly around the swaddled form of the USS Resolute.

But the EvMU was not taking them there. Instead, it put on a little more speed, leaving behind a dissipating cloud of reaction mass as it curved them around to the far side of the docking tower and the far wall. To the container port.

Set up between two of the massive space tight doors spaced 90 degree's around the docks circumference, the cargo containers were stacked and bound together in such a way as to resemble barnacles. Not all of them were the standard Starfleet grey, and many bore bright corporate logo's: Maersk Transtellar, INS, Nova Tech and the like. There must have been thousands lashed to the wall of the dome, secured with physical tie downs and magnetic locks. All in odd lumps and clumps.

"You have reached your destination!" a breezy computer auto voice stated happily.

Mara rolled her eyes. She didn't know if anybody had programmed that particular phrase on purpose, but it was cheesy. Funny, but cheesy.

"Thank you," Meilin said to the disembodied voice. She often thanked virtual constructs for doing as they were designed. Though objectively a non-sentient algorithm, she nonetheless recognized the EvMU as an extension of its creator, who would have been a vessel of the Tao. That meant even the EvMU was a manifestation of the Tao by several degrees of separation. Meilin pondered these thoughts as she continued her scans.

"Exterior scans show no hull breaches or other adverse conditions," she reported to Mara. "Commencing interior scans now-- Oh!"

Her tricorder immediately picked up life signs, which was concerning. "Mister Newman," she said into the open comm channel, "did you have any personnel on duty out here?" It seemed unlikely, given the rancorous speech he'd made before she and Mara had set out, but it needed to be asked.

"I had Crewmen Maz and Hakoon out there checking out the Resolute after the jump. But all my lads and lassies are in here with me Boss," Newman's voice was tinny in the suits speakers, and an edge of static was creeping into it like the buzz of insects. "What's happening out there? I-zzz-send out the Work Bee and sled? Getting some pretty ch-zzzz-agnetic interference."

There was a half a second's pause as Mara considered it. "Negative," she said. "We'll keep you posted. What kind of life forms?" she asked Meilin.

"Humanoid," Meilin said. "And dozens of them. All localized..." She swept her recorder to and fro before pointing to a large shipping container. "There."

Meilin tapped her combadge. "Security team to Shuttle Craft Bay One. Zero-G environment."

A burble of static interference answered her call, followed by the EvMU screeching a proximity warning. One of the cargo container's in front of them opened, and a large amorphous mesh of cargo netting was launched out at speed. As it flew it spun ever so slightly, enough to unfurl the weighted net out to its full extension. It stuck the EvMU and its two passengers, wrapping around it so the weighted ends collided and clunked magnetically together.

Then the space-suited figures floated out of the pod. Not one suit was exactly the same as another, and in some cases, it seemed purposefully mismatched instead of hard-pressed for spare parts. There a helmet from a Starfleet suit, there the pauldrons and chest monitor from an Andorian suit. All of them wore thruster packs and spread out quickly to surround the netted prize.

And all of them were armed: phasers, plasma pistols, even a few hand weapons like axes and pikes. The pike wielder made a thrusting motion with their weapon, an instructive demonstration of intent.

Mara’s first inclination was to grab for a phaser, but of course they hadn’t brought any. This was supposed to be a standard, routine inspection; they hadn’t been expecting intruders.

Meilin arrested the spike of fear in her stomach, instead smothering it with the detached serenity of wu-wei. A quick attempt to count heads proved futile, which meant that Meilin knew not with whom she was dealing. It seemed time to rectify that.

"Greetings," she said after activating the exterior mic on her suit. "I am Lieutenant Commander Meilin Jiang of the Starfleet starbase Canopus Station. Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

The floating marauders didn't reply. Instead, one of them carrying a hand axe fashioned from starship grade duranium jetted closer. With a motion born of long practice, the figure grabbed onto the netting with a hand foot, arresting their motion with each. They then pushed the polarised faceplate of their helmet up against Meilin's.

"You's down dweller's got nah comms eh? Ain't nah dirter's comin' ta get'ye outta dock," came the tinny, distant sounding voice that rattled through the physical contact between their suits. "Al'you's cause static ve us, ve vent'ya and keep da water eh? Compostable's in the end eh?"

Blink. Blink. That and an uncomprehending stare were Mara’s only replies for a long moment. Then, finally, “huh?” In the most confused voice anyone had ever uttered in the history of the universe. She hadn’t understood a thing he said.

The marauders didn't wait for a reply before kicking off from the netting and making a balled fist of his right hand. The cables holding the netted catch went taut, and they hauled back into the cargo pod. The interior of the pod was lined with padding and EVA supplies, spare air bottles, thruster packs, and at its back an airlock welded into the metal.

Once inside the outer door was closed, sealing them all into the pod, and then slowly the hiss of returning pressure came to them. The EvMU and the others began to drift to the floor as gravity returned. The one who had been speaking to them removed their helmet, revealing a smooth-headed young man of maybe 17 or 18 years of ago. His skin was black, his eyes bright as polished onyx, and he shared a grin with the other's as they removed their helmets.

There a Bajoran man, their ear free of the customary piercing jewellery, instead they sported a swirl of blue tattoo ink that curled along the jaw and up over their brow. Another was a human woman, their right eye missing save for a polished brass and chrome prosthetic that whirred and clicked.

"You, go get Cap'n Bossa," their young captor said, nodding at the Bajoran.

"Yes Pallas," he grumbled in a heavy growl of a voice and stepped through the rear airlock, and deeper into what was clearly not a stack of crates. The boy, Pallas, took the opportunity to sit on a crate and smile at Mara and Meilin.

"You's can take off'yer helms, we got'st the good air here. Free for the free folk," he said. "Good gift to give to new's folk eh? Is generous us."

Meilin hesitated only a moment before she complied. Her sealed enviro-suit hissed as she broke containment in the removal of her helmet. "Hello, Pallas," she said evenly, noting the name spoken by the Bajoran messenger. There was the possibility of waiting for an opportune moment to speak, but some opportunities had to be made rather than stumbled upon. "Are you able to tell us how you came to be in a cargo container, or should we wait for Captain Bossa?"

"Where we's are, is where's ve are meant'a be. Ain't no sky stranger to us. And Bossa be here soon nuff, speak her peice," Pallas said, looking at the woman who was left with him in the airlock bay. She raised an open hand and began to flick and move her fingers in a rapid series of gestures. Pallas watched, nodding ever so often before she stopped. "You's friend with the gold bricker jacket ain't no gunner she? No guns, no blades. Techie? Always good work for techies. And you, you's got da blue on you. Medico or you navi? Need one more'n other, copy?"

Meilin smiled at his forcefulness. "I study people. Their habits. Their bones. Their values, their technology, their hopes, dreams, and nightmares." She looked at him askance. "Pidgin jargon, assorted aesthetics, rudimentary instrumentation. I've never encountered the aldar-Rishal face to face, but the hostility seems out of character." Her smile turned demure. "Exiles, then? Cast out of your homesteader vessel for crimes against the community?" The look of pity in her face was sincere. "Jī ma, but it's little wonder you wound up all the way out here." Her eyes lazily shifted in the direction she'd last seen the absent Bajoran. "If your captain is willing to come out of hiding, I am certain we can find a place for you all in a station this size."

Pallas's eyes grew narrow, hard, filled with the anger only the young and stupid can afford. He seemed ready to say something, his hands beginning to move when the airlock door to the interior of opened and the Bajoran returned. He stood beside the door as others came in, men and women of a handful of races from across the Alpha and Beta Quadrants. All of them wore the same mismatched clothes, though there were not in disrepair. There a Vulcan, there a Klingon of all things, and the lizard hide skin of a Gorn.

These two did part, and from the centre stepped an abnormally tall woman of ash white skin and short slicked back silver-white hair. Her eyes were unnaturally fully black. The lack of iris, or any hint of white from her eyes, did not seem to bother her greatly. She was the least extravagantly dressed, keeping to a loose white shirt and baggy trousers that helped to hide the narrowness of her ankles and wrists.

She stepped closer, kneeling to examine the bonds of the netting, and where it caught against their suits.

"Are you both alright? You didn't lose pressure?" her words held the slightest hint of a Luna accent, the tones crisp and consonants fully expressed. There was no hint of the Rish pidgin or its sing-song accent in her words, and the deep pits of her black eyes looked over them. "I apologise for Pallas. He has every good intention stored in his heart, but there is only so much he can do before there's a logjam. I am Captain Bossa, and I welcome you as guests of my air and water onto The Witch Of Endor. Our home here."

Meilin bowed her head. "And I, as Lieutenant Commander Meilin Jiang of Canopus Station, offer greetings to you. Thank you for your air, Captain." She elbowed Mara to follow suit. "May I ask how your vessel came to be stored within the cargo bay?"

"You may, but it will not change the fact that we are here now no more than I could call the photon's that damaged my eyes," Bossa waved a hand over her dark eyes. "Lens to help me see better, all the lights quite blinding to me without them. But I have astonishingly good hearing."

She leaned in a little closer, her voice taking on a guarded tone.

"You said...that you could find a place for us on? On your station?"

"That depends," Meilin said shrewdly, "on how many of you there are."

Bossa looked over her shoulder at the others, seeming to be making a mental calculation.

"I could send you the infirm and the children, the ones most in need of aid and help? 20 at the maximum if I do it like that," she said in her confiding tone.

"Only 20?" Meilin beamed with satisfaction at maneuvering the captain right where she wanted her. "At so few in number, when the Security Team arrives, we can all walk out of here together. You, Pallas, everyone."

There were far too many questions for Mara’s taste. Where had these people come from? Why did they feel the need to kidnap she and Meilin if they just wanted to chat? How exactly was this their airspace? But, whatever Meilin was doing seemed to be working and since Mara was an introvert, she didn’t feel the need to butt in.

"Ah," Bossa said with a nod. "And now you see it? The kind charity of Starfleet, its hand held out to give but only on their terms. Security to come and relocate us? Impound the Endor? And how have forced migration worked for the immigrants in the past?"

Bossa unfolded herself from where she had crouched down, standing over the two now. As she did so a faint whine and click of servo's could be heard, and the sleeve of her shirt rose high enough to show off the pressure cuff of a mobility exoskeleton. Usually reserved for the extreme elderly or infirm.

"Where we go, is where we belong," Bossa said, enunciating the words in the tone of a rallying cry. There were murmurs of agreement from behind her. "We are the Rish. We know no sky and know no border. Our ancestral home is worlds turned over by your kin, the airless asteroids and halo comets. So when I hear that Starfleet has found a way to a new sky, well...Bossa was the only one who saw death coming for her people. She saw the gates of this new sky barred to the people it was promised to!"

"Its where we belong," the voices of the small crowd behind Bossa said with a growling burr to their word.

"So for all thanks, we will not be taking you up on your offer of being marched off our ship," Bossa said. "What I want, is something you cannot give little down weller. Unless you can promise to be my go-between twixt your master and commander and my fine self. I'd go to visit himself, but Bossa's just a poor Rish with brittle bones and lung's fit to be crushed under a Weller's gravity. That and he's right to be a might angry with us, better he be mad at you than me."

Meilin effected the look of a long-suffering schoolmarm as she patiently waited for Bossa to finish her impassioned speech. "Since you claim familiarity with Starfleet, then you would be aware that we called for a Security team the moment we detected your life signs. We had no idea with whom we were dealing, and so it was for everyone's protection. Before you bite the hand which offers you kindness, you should consider the long arm of justice attached to it." Meilin pursed her lips in a mirthless expression of distaste. "As you so wisely stated, the alternative to me would be mightily angry man indeed." She sighed as to dismiss such negative thoughts with a gust of air.
"However, if the bulk of your people are happy and healthy in your current environment, I do not see an issue if they remain here for the foreseeable future. It seems only the noble thing for a host to offer hospitality to all guests rather than just the young and infirmed, does it not?"

Though they were almost assuredly exiles, Meilin banked on the deeply ingrained rules of hospitality within the Rish to offset their penchant for chicanery.

"Careful Starfleet, you go offering more than you can wager you're liable to fall short of the mark. Cadence, release them," Bossa said. The woman with the ocular implant shot a look at Bossa, her right hand flicking in sign language before a stern glare cut her off. With just a moments hesitation she got to work unlocking the magnetic clamps holding the netting around the EvMU.

"We'll be sending you soon enough, but I hope you'd see yourselves clear to leaving us the floating tool chest? Precision machined tools, not to mention the consumables in the sled here are a fine thing to have when you have storerooms full of'em. Call it a gift to the host for our air and water?" Bossa said with a gracious smile.

Her understanding of the Rish's complex trading practices was limited, but she knew enough that now was not the time to capitulate. A gift at this juncture would conclude their business, but an agreement which established an ongoing exchange would perhaps foster trust in the long-term.

"But of course," Meilin said, matching Boss's smile. "You may hold our property in escrow for the duration of your stay with us in exchange for your brief but kind hospitality in the past few minutes. No doubt your care will improve the value of said property, which would mean remuneration for you when returning it upon your departure." Her smile narrowed. "Or for us, on condition of the reverse. Very generous terms for the free quarter we grant you, I am sure you would agree."

"That be us, very auger of generosity us," Bossa said with a grin. She crossed her arms, looked over her shoulder at the others and gestured to Meilin and Mara. "See? They's can be taught the right and proper way of things, just needa be patient with'em. Speak the long way round as they do. We all fives here?"

A rough chorus of affirmative grunts and words arose from them.

"Is good ta hear it. Nah back to the workin', gotta ship to run that ain't fit for runnin' itself," Bossa said, waving them away. And soon the airlock chamber was the untangled Fleeters and Bossa herself. A short, stocky Rish in a still sealed space suit stood by the door like an honour guard, holding onto the short stock of a Bajoran phaser carbine.

"Way I see it, better we introduce ourselves this way than any other. You go back, we stay, and then we can make a good thing out of all this and that eh? I give you my word as Captain, I ain't no lie teller me," Bossa held out her long-fingered hand to them.

Mara glanced between Meilin and Bossa. She didn't know if this was a good idea, but at least they were alive, which is more than she could say if she had been the one negotiating.

"I will present our terms to the station commander and see they are entered into record." Meilin bowed in honor and dismissal. "We will speak again soon. An Dao."

"May the stars be kind, and the vein of ore not a ghost on your augury," Boosa said, and stepped through the airlock hatch back into the Witch Of Endor. The honour guard, still in their sealed suit with the faceplate polarised lingered a moment longer. Stubby fingers tightening on the rifle in contemplation, but then followed suit to leave the two Fleet officers to prepare for vacuum.

Meilin returned her helmet to her head. "Suit up," she said to Mara. "When we get back, we've got some explaining to do."

With a shake of her head, Mara replaced her helmet and resealed her suit. Now she knew how Lucy and Ethel felt when they had to tell Ricky and Fred about their latest scheme.