resfeber

The Mirificus

Captain Malcom Izar knew he would not be welcomed on Mjoiner, but he had no choice but to dock the Mirificus, his titanium and fortemetalli planetary module on the now-rugged planet.

"Easy now!" He shouts towards his helmsman, Alesky Stellan. "You are going to wax her on the hydrogen layer!"

"I'm tryin' Izzy!" He calls back, running a hand through his thick black hair. "She's unsteady, she needs more fuel!"

"Dammit Alesky, why do you think we are landing on the nearest planet?" Captain Izar loudly asks. More quietly, he mutters, "How the hell did you pass all of your courses?" Hovering over Stellan's shoulder, he buzzes in over the busted intercom system, something else they needed to fix.

"We will surface within the hour, prepare yourselves. This is a quick stop. We fuel in, then we leave." He announces. Izar's stentorian voice booms across the ship, meeting his crew of 12. He fiddles with a dark blue fortemelli bracelet on his left wrist as he lowers himself on the Captain's chair. This was his nervous tic, what he constantly did in times of anxiety.

"Captain?" A petite woman with burgundy hair stumbles into the room.

Izar whirls his head in the direction of the voice. "Oh, Demelza, what do you need now? Has Massen started the repairs yet?"

She squeaks a nervous reply, "Not that I know of sir. Can you sign this trade check please, sir?" The young trade-head stammers, her cheeks burning several shades lighter than her hair.

Izar takes the tech-pad and stylus, thinking, 'Demelza Perellys is good with numbers, but she's very awkward with her speaking skills.' He gives a signature that could rival a stereotypical doctor's handwriting. He may think he is smarter than most of his crew, but Malcom himself hardly had any formal lessons.

Acepting it back into her hands, Demelza questions the Captain. "What will we do without Webster?"

"We can do a load of things without the sneaky bastard around." Izar spits through gritted teeth. Webster Flint had been the chief transmission officer and sole translator until 72 hours ago, when they found out he was actually smuggling illegal fruit from the jungle planet Dinah to the arctic planet of Leopold. He was kicked off the ship and taken by the Peace for all Universe Kind Force (or the PUKF, if you don't wish to say it all). Izar was given a tidy sum for his troubles, but it wasn't fuel, not until they could dock.

Demelza looks a bit surprised at his harsh words, "I will prepare for landing sir." She scuttles away. Izar rolls his pale blue eyes.

Within the hour, as promised, the Mirificus lands on Mjoiner. "Stellan, Queaslio," Izar barks at the helmsman and the blue skinned Qaut. The two officers race into his line of sight, one Man and one non-gendered being. "Find fuel, barter for it. Don't make a deal until you radio me."

The two beings nod, trotting out of the bridge. Izar pulled on a heavy wool grey coat with golden lapels. It's a notable item, that wasn't notable to the captain himself. He is joined by Tavvi Cerulean. The older woman was in charge of recruiting and of inventory, mainly of the wares and weapons on board the Mirificus.

"Tavvi, no one on this planet will want to leave it. They're homebodies, not the adventurous type at all!" Izar argues with the salt-and-pepper haired recruiter.

"Oh please," she swats a hand towards the captain, "We have to give a fair shot to everyone. Besides, what do you know of Mjoiner?"

Malcom grimaced, he knew many things about Mjoiner. The number one being how he didn't want to be here. Tavvi leads Izar down the rusting dock out to a world, over heated by a blue burning star. The recruiter hardly had time to take a pen out of her pocket, when a young caramel haired woman rushes up to them. 

"I want to join you." She says in a matter-of-fact way. Her violet eyes penetrated the two adults. 'She must be part Mjoa.' Malcom thinks. 

"Well, we don't have any open labouring job--" Izar begins, but the girl cuts him off.

"I'm not a labourer." She runs her words together, glancing around the open area with only small amounts of vegiation growing. "I can do proper work, please. I can recite classic English literature from memory, though that may not be helpful, I can use a proleria on the lowest level and shoot things. I can speak 257 different languages. I can---" It was the girl's turn to be cut off.

"How many now?" Tavvi asks.

"257..." The young woman responds meekly.

Tavvi looks at the Captain. He sighs, nodding.

"What's your name then?" Cerulean asks, filling out a form.

"Traveller Touk..." The girl responds, biting her lip.

"Traveller Touk, please sign here... And welcome to the crew of the Mirificus."