Out of the Way }{ [Veasna Crew, Kyle, & Phoebe]

[Syeira Duvont]

[December 11th, 2522]

They landed on Persephone only about two hours ago, the afternoon was ending and evening was approaching. Of course they hadn't landed at the docks, there had been some place out of the city designated as the rendevue point. Or extraction point if you so pleased. It was an open field, no buildings around, no place for cover. It was a good spot for Veasna, bad spot for anyone looking to do any harm to them.

Syeira was sitting in the cargo bay playing her violin, awaiting the arrival of her new first mate Kyle Phelan and his little 'girlfriend' mechanic, Phoebe Saku. Every time Kyle and her had been in conversation she made sure to give him some tease about the young girl he was toting around. Even made the remark that they could share one of the ship's shuttles instead of taking crew quarters, more room and extra privacy. That'd been a good laugh for the captain.

Once the two of them were on board and the Veasna was up in the air there would need to be a meeting of sorts. While the others already knew about Syeira's plans to head to New Canaan and tend to some slavers who fancied kidnapping companions, she would need to let Kyle know as well. The gypsy didn't figure it would mean too much to the mechanic though, she'd been told the girl wasn't the fighting type.

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Outfit

Music:

[Kyle Phelan]

Waiting for the cover of darkness, Kyle Phelan and Phoebe Saku sat under the shadow of an old oak that overlooked the open field where they were to rendezvous with Syeira. There was no cover to be had down below in the field, and the remnants of the what probably used to be a woodshed would be the first place their pursuers would look, but atop the dirt outcropping, tucked away under the withered old tree's roots, the two of them were practically invisible. Kyle was rather pleased with that. He had become quite adept at eluding capture over the years, having grown up as an orphaned thief in the streets of Persephone. That was the reason the scruffy young Captain and his mechanic were on the run: ol' Persheph' was chock-full of Phelan's enemies, ranging from his kinfolk (the Irish mafia), Alliance Feds, the local Triads, slavers, bounty hunters, and various crime bosses.

Finally, Phoebe and Kyle heard what sounded like a ship in the distance, and moments later their suspicions were confirmed. Eyes locked on the approaching vessel, Kyle was relieved to find that it was indeed Syeira Duvont's ship, the Veasna, a Pride-Class - not exactly a beaut in Kyle's opinion, but stalwart and fit for long hauls through the Black. "Time to move," the former-Captain said, turning to his companion and pulling down his hood once again.

Just then, Kyle heard the snap of a twig from the direction of the woodshed. He swiveled around, bow drawn, and told Phoebe to run for the ship, and not to look back. Loosing the first arrow, Kyle felled one of the thugs. It was Saint's men, just as he'd feared. Phelan had just sent an arrow into the next man's gut when the remaining two returned fire - with TMPs. Ducking the spray of gunfire, Kyle slid down the dirt outcropping from which the old oak was anchored, notching another arrow on his custom recurve-bow's drawstring. Relieved to see Phoebe was making good progress, the scruffy rogue flattened himself against the mound of dirt, using it as cover as well as a point of ambush.

Pulse pounding, Phelan waited for the sound of approaching footfalls before stepping out and snapping off his third shot, which struck his target in the upper thigh. Kyle advanced on his foe as the man let out a scream, gripping at the shaft protruding from his leg. Dropping the bow and drawing one of his longknives in one motion, Kyle slapped his opponent's weapon aside and buried his blade in the other man's chest. That's when he felt a sharp pain blaze through his right arm, along the side of the tricep. Gasping, Phelan whirled around, putting his dying opponent between himself and the last remaining assailant. Saint's hired gun fired again, blood spraying everywhere as Phelan's human-shield soaked up the gunfire. In the confusion, the Irishman dropped to the ground, scrambling to roll out of the bullets' path.

Fortunately, the would-be assassin ran out of bullets, forcing him to reload, and giving Kyle enough time to rise to one knee and hurl his boot-knife. But the blade struck high, tearing into the man's shoulder instead of into his heart, which meant that Kyle's attacker was now right on top of him. Aiming a vicious kick at Phelan's head, Saint's assassin scored a glancing blow on the side of the younger man's head. Drawing another knife as he came up from his roll, Phelan managed to get to his feet this time, but was quickly disarmed, putting him back on the defensive as his more experienced opponent pulled the knife from his own shoulder and attempted to cut Phelan's throat with it.

Kyle parried the assassin's attacks, grateful that the man's blade-work was slowed by the deep gash in his dominant shoulder. Still, Kyle's enemy was relentless, charging in and bringing both arms down in a power strike, causing Kyle to bring his arms up to block. That was a mistake. With both arms locked in a struggle and his own blade inches from his face, it was only a matter of time before the larger man would win out; Kyle was faster and more nimble, but he simply wasn't strong enough to hold off his attacker for long. Grimacing, the rogue was forced down on one leg, both men baring their teeth as their primal struggle began to wind down to its inevitable outcome. "Looks like your luck has finally run out, 'Bladesinger'. And don't you fret about the girl, I'll take real good care of her after you're gone," the assassin snarled sadistically. Feeling another cold spike of adrenaline blast through him, Kyle gave a roar as his lower back touched earth, allowing him to bring both legs up and flip the man up and over him with his opponent's own downward momentum. Pouncing on the downed thug in a feral rage, Phelan hefted a rock with both hands, preparing the final blow. "Don't count on it," he spat. He brought the rock down on the assassin's skull with tremendous force, killing the man instantaneously.

[Sam Grady]

To Sam Grady? She was a beaut. The most beautiful thing to ever take to the skies. This was mostly due to the fact it was running now, and Sam could take to the skies in it. Also, it was a damn sight prettier than ships she'd seen or been aboard. In comparison, all others were Reaver ships by way of beauty. Grady's love affair with the Veasna aside, she had just set said vessel down on Persephone. The landing site was a little different from usual, but Sam had a knack for being able to land a ship in any spot. Hell, she could even manage it on the tip of a Londinium skyscraper if they really wanted. Whether anything got a little broke in the process was always a little touch and go. The Veasna she was more careful with, though. Syeira would probably choke her if she scratched it.

So they were picking up this Phelan guy and his little miss Mechanic girl. The latter dear Grady was far more interested in-- seeing as one of those were a requirement to her being able to keep doing what she loved most-- flying. Well, moving in general. Sam loved this nomadic side of life. A ship always on the move meant no limitations.

As such, though, the Veasna was still a little short on extra hands, and Sam was basically passing as both Pilot and able Gunhand-- as per usual. From the cockpit she so loved, Grady had almost sprinted down to the cargo bay-- and would be ready to sprint back up there if their getaway was required. She had spent a lot of time since being on board, mapping out the fastest way to get her pigu in that seat, and that bird in the air.

"Cap? Any sign yet? Gettin' antsy over here."

The pilot was pacing about with a hand on the short-barrelled autorevolver at her hip. Expecting trouble, or just wishful thinking? Syeira had mentioned that Phelan was in some trouble, and hence why they were here to 'extract' him and his friend. As she paced back towards the cargo bay's opening, Grady peered upwards and blinked.

"Hey! Hey! Someone's comin'. What in the-- Cap. Looks like trouble. Want me t'prep th'ship? Or help out here?"

Sam understood if she was needed to get the ship ready if they were coming in hot. But there was always that itch when she sniffed violence on the horizon.

[Syeira Duvont]

[[This is assuming that Kyle took care of the men, otherwise I'll alter a bit so Syeira can help too but from what I read coast seems clear]]

Syeira had been immersed in the music, the melody that she'd been playing with her violin. Hadn't noticed Sam even entering the cargo bay until the woman spoke. Stopping the violin, she stood up, carefully setting the instrument down in her chair.

When she turned to face Sam again she had apparently spotted their people, and perhaps some trouble. The captain shook her head slightly, "Prep our girl up, I'll take a look." She spoke as she headed out of the ship, pulling her pistol.

She paused momentarily once the young mechanic and her crossed paths. Phoebe had raised her arms in the air when she saw Syeira's gun pointed at her. Taking only a second to recognize the girl she nodded in the direction of the Veasna, "Go."

Syeria continued in the direction of the struggle at a fast pace. Once she made it she took a look at the situation, apparently all handled by the young man. "Well now, aren't you a popular man Kyle, didn't leave me any fun either I see." She held out her hand to him to help him to his feet and a greeting.

"Time to say goodbye to Persephone I do believe, wouldn't you say? Passed your girl on the way out, should be on-board by now."

[Phoebe Saku]

It had been a crazy few months for the young mechanic, very crazy and scary. She had stuck by Kyle, and thankfully he hadn't abandoned her. They spent alot of time together, and he protected her, kept her safe. Sometimes at his own expense, that bit made her feel bad, like she should just leave and let what would happen, happen. Kyle had none of that though.

It seemed as though things were starting to look up now, there was a ship coming to pick them off of Persephone. The Veasna, the captain was someone that Kyle knew. They just had to survive and wait for them to get their ship fixed. That's how the world works, you gotta fix your ship to go pick up a mechanic that would have been able to fix it for you.

When they had left the Falchion she hadn't been able to take much of anything except the clothes on her back. Which meant her journal was no longer with her either. Not that it helped her sleep at all, but it was sort of a therapy. So instead of writing she talked, and poor Kyle was the only one there to listen. She'd told him about her experience with The Summer Dance, the reavers, even about her father.

Here they were now, waiting for the Veasna to arrive. Before them was a large open field, Kyle had found a good place for them to hide though. Amongst an old oak tree. Phoebe stayed quiet while they waited. She simply nodded at Kyle's words, but visibly shaken at the sound that came from behind them. That was a bad sign and she knew it. When Kyle told her to run for the ship there was no argument from the mechanic, only a look of worry for the man next to her.

Phoebe ran with everything she had, only slowing when a woman came into view. Seeing a gun in her hands Pheebs raised her hands in the air to show she wasn't a threat; continuing on at the woman's words. She thought it was the captain, but she'd only seen her once on a wave with Kyle. Phoebe had been told to pop herself into view so that Syeria could see what she looked like.

Once on board the ship Phoebe leaned against the nearest wall, trying to catch her breath. Her face showing the fear in her plain as day, as she slid down the metal surface.

[Sam Grady]

There was a distinct air of disappointment flitting across Sam Grady's features as the Captain tells her otherwise. Tells her to get up there and get the ol' girl started. The excitement in her expression melting into something close to a child being told 'no'. Though, it was only for a moment. A second that it was allowed before Syeira had gone to see to the young lady making a b-line into the ship, and then their new First Mate and whatever altercation he had gotten himself into. Lucky hun dan, Grady thought to herself wistfully as she twisted on her heel, and proceeded to bolt from the cargo bay. The loud tramp of combat boots hitting the metal grating as she made for the cockpit.

Even as she ran, it reminded her of the old times. Of raids on small villages. Raids on mining towns, or that one time they hit an Alliance outpost. Good days, right? Running onto the Nyx full-pelt with gunfire not far behind. Straight into the cockpit to strap herself in, popping open her shotgun and letting the empty shells drop as it smoked from the barrel. Then dropping it in favour of starting up the engines. Not too far away from what she was doing right now.

Sam dropped into her comfy throne; her favourite place on the whole ruttin' beautiful ship. This time minus all the gunfire and no shotgun in her hand this time. Though, there was the autorevolver at her hip. Within moments, there was the whine and hum; systems coming online as Sam's real and metal hands danced over switches and levers. A small screen dropped down from overhead, she tapped it with those spidery black digits, flipped it back up. The same hand snatched the comm from under the console beside her.

"Hey, uh-- fixer girl. Phelan's girlfriend. You hearin' me down there? Mechanic, right? Mind gettin' yer pert little pigu to our engine room t'make sure we're all good? Sooner would be better'n later, piao liang!"

Hopefully she was right in remembering the second member of this little rescue was in fact a mechanic-- and praying she was a good one. But all Sam could do right now was wait for Syeira's confirmation to fly. The pilot was poised. Never about to do something until told. Which was hilarious considering the girl was a no-good, dirty pirate-- no matter if she weren't on such a ship or in such company anymore. You are what you are. Nothin' ever changes that. And yet she was the most loyal xiong meng de kuang ren.

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^{hun dan}---_b*stard

^pigu---_backside

^{piao liang}---_beautiful

^{xiong meng de kuang ren}---_{violent lunatic}

[Phoebe Saku]

Phoebe had only been sitting on the floor of the Veasna cargo bay for maybe two minutes before a voice overhead shook her from her daze. She made a funny face at how the woman was addressing her, fixer girl? Phelan's girlfriend? Maybe she missed a conversation at some point.

She shrugged it off for now though, picking herself from the ground and taking just a moment to think of the engine room's location. Pride class ship. Seeming to be a fairly standard build. Yep she knew exactly where she was going, "On my way and it's Phoebe!" Phoebe hollered out as she began to make a quick run through the ship.

The Veasna had no mechanic of it's own, which was good for her. Apparently had just recently been worked on so there should be no immediate problem with them leaving Persephone. Upon entering her space, her zone -- it was a mess. Not a 'oh god we're all going to die' sort of way...just not kept up. It was clearly obvious they hadn't had a steady mechanic in awhile.

Phoebe sighed softly and got to work, checking the state of the turbines, the various coils, everything else that was needed for their take-off and flight. As she looked her mind began storing away things to do later, several un-needed wires and hoses could be done away with, new fuses. The timing belt seemed to be a little worn. Things that the mechanic could take care of later, making the ship fly smoother and cheaper in the maintenance area.

Satisfied with the current state of things Phoebe walked over to the comm in her engine room calling up the bridge; "Everything is good to go." She was silently debating if she should go back to the cargo bay to make sure Kyle and the woman she knew to be the Captain made it back ok.

[Kyle Phelan]

Phelan let the blood-splattered rock slip from his fingers, his face shrouded in shadow as his foe lay broken beneath him. He stayed there, practically motionless for several long moments as he slowed his breathing and let the adrenaline ebb away. Kyle's eyes swept the horizon as his tunnel-vision subsided, spotting Syeira as she made her approach.

"Well now, aren't you a popular man Kyle, didn't leave me any fun either I see."

The Irishman met the Captain's gaze with a brief and somewhat soured smirk, declining her offer of assistance due to the stained condition of his hands. Wiping the majority of the blood off on the assassin's tunic, Kyle rose to his feet and started recollecting his various blades. "Yeah, ya missed a helluva party love..." he mumbled, wiping his weapons off in the grass before sliding them back into their various sheaths.

"Time to say goodbye to Persephone I do believe, wouldn't you say? Passed your girl on the way out, should be on-board by now."

Kyle retrieved his prized recurve bow from where he had dropped it only minutes earlier. He slung it into place over his shoulder and turned back to Syeira. "Good. Sooner we get off this dirtball the better..."

[Syeira Duvont]

"Well I do like to make an entrance, fashionably late and all." Syeira grinned as Kyle declined her hand and helped himself up. Her current outfit didn't leave much room for a silent approach anyway against the would-be killers. The jingle from the various ornaments that the gypsy adorned would have long given her away.

Nodding to Kyle's words, "Let's be off then shall we." The Captain turned to head back to her good fortune, the Veasna. "Any other planets we need to worry about running into those friends of yours Kyle?" Syeira's pace was quick, not running though. No need unless there's a reason. The threat had been taken care of for the moment, she trusted Phelan's skills enough to know that. There was a concern though, about who all was after him and the lengths they would go to catch him. Worry for her crew, her ship.

Once they walked into the ship's cargo bay the gypsy looked around, not seeing the young mechanic girl. Syeira walked over to the comm, "Sam, you put that girl to work already? She ain't even had time to breath yet." Her voice was teasing to her pilot, knowing Sam was happy to have a mechanic on the ship. Once she got confirmation from the woman, "Well let's get our lady in the air Sam."

Hanging up the comm she made her next stop to grab her violin that had been left sitting on the chair. Pulling the chair back against the nearest wall she looked back at Kyle, "I assume you remember your way around, pick yourself a room..' A sly grin crossed her lips, 'Or a shuttle if the case may be."

[Sam Grady]

Sam was quite possibly grinning as she got the confirmation that the mechanic was on the move. The tail end of her name being spoken was sort of noted, but at this pressing moment in time, she'd probably forget it soon. Busy at the controls, and you know. Terrible manners and all that. The little spark of spirit in the girl's slight back-chat had also been noted. Sam liked being around people with a pair. Those willing to talk back and challenge her. Maybe she sorta revelled in it? Either way, it kept her on her toes. It was how she'd loved it in the past. No telling if you could trust the rest of the brigands on your cutthroat crew, right? Sure, the Veasna was different, but a very loose sense of those terms still applied. Just a lack of Grady starting little brawls with crew members. She was drilled well enough on the proper protocol that Syeira expected. Yus ma'am, 'course ma'am. Only a teeny bit sarcastic and mocking. All in good humour, of course. The grin was still wide as it was in that memory. Back in the present? Sam was ready to fly.

The engines were a'hummin' and that Phoebe girl had confirmed things being in good working order on her end. No mishaps. If there had been prior to this she'd have had to fight Syeira for first in line to gut the mechanics back on Greenleaf. Woulda enjoyed it, too.

"Hey, a girl's gotta earn 'er rescue. Make sure she's worth 'er keep. An' this darin' little evac." Sam half-joked, both real and fake hands on the yoke as she went about getting them off this rock. All she had needed was to hear the Captain's voice, and her words, and she'd known it was time to bug out.

"She an' I are more'n happy t'get back up there, Cap. Hold on ta' yer pants, everyone. An' say g'bye t'sunny and bad-guy-filled Persephone." The pilot drawled over the comm.

The Veasna was climbing, the landing gear already retracted. The Pride-class making a low hum and thunder as it streaked through the skies. Best place to be. And then beyond that? The dark, glittering expanse of Space...

The very best place to be...

[Kyle Phelan]

"Well I do like to make an entrance, fashionably late and all," came Duvont's reply. Kyle gave her a small, wry smile and shook his head. "Let's be off then shall we." It wasn't a question, but a statement, and Phelan followed after the Captain eagerly, giving one last look at the open field around them for any sign of another attack. "Any other planets we need to worry about running into those friends of yours Kyle?" Syeira was asking. Kyle merely blinked. Where didn't he have enemies? He picked up the pace as he considered his answer, catching up to stand at the woman's side, rather than behind her.

"Perseph's the biggest problem, although they don't like me much on Sihnon either come to think of it. Or... or Beaumonde..." Memories flashed by of his run-in with one of the rings of slavers that operated out of Beaumonde. Yeah, not a good idea, he thought, shaking his head once again. The scruffy former-Captain spoke up again as they reached the edge of Veasna's loading ramp, his eyes taking in the sight of the extensive cargo bay that lay before him. "It's not all bad though, folks on the Rim might be glad see 'ol O'Connor again," he said, smiling despite himself. ...Oh, right, he thought. Phelan had used the alias "Kevin O'Connor" for many of his exploits around the 'Verse. He would need to explain that, but later. Right now, since he already knew Phoebe was safely aboard, all Kyle cared about was getting the hell away from Persephone.

Suddenly, the rogue realized someone was speaking to him again: "I assume you remember your way around, pick yourself a room..." said Syeira as she shot him a sly grin. "...Or a shuttle if the case may be." Kyle frowned. Shuttle? Why-- Oh right, Phoebe. 'Added privacy'. As Phelan started to shuffle off, he made it a point to make sure Syeira could see him roll his eyes. "No, I don't need a shuttle, thank ye very much... Jus' need to wash this ta ma de* blood off and get some gorram sleep..."



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* Ta ma de: damn, damned, damn it (literally "his mother's")