The Agora

Posted on Tue Jan 29th, 2019 @ 8:19pm by Second Mate Quinton Beck & MERCHANT RANKS Fala Gaz (NPC) & Second Mate Simon Starr & Master Steward Othor Jaxz Ghost of the Second Star

5,873 words; about a 29 minute read

Mission: Meanwhile...
Location: Second Star
Timeline: Current

-Start-

{Agora- Port Forward Saucer Section, Theater}

The lights were all off, an ebony shroud holding a daunting reality at bay. Any other day this would have been a bad thing, terrifying in its dreaded implications, this space would be the vibrant heart of the ship, let it never go dim.

Today though it was the gift wrap, keeping a surprise doomed to the unveiling ceremony in mere moments.

The streaming crowds had tapered as the applicants were rejected, sorted, analyzed and approved in the final boarding call. Protocol demanded a 24 hour final call for checks and mandated all crew be aboard. Anyone who arrived late... well, Adventure was punctual, if not early, and any crew on this ship would be the same. Launch was at hand and the paint hadn't yet dried on the newest patches to the hull.

Beck stopped a moment, considering the scope of everything that had accomplished. Though the pain hadn't dried yet, it was his scheme, carmine over alabaster, highlights in Forest green. The gleaming white had to go, a branding issue making the ship look indelibly Starfleet. The Second Star had now taken on red highlights, to complement the indigo hue of the nacelles and pure Crimson Bussard glow.

Gouges in the hull had been filled and sealed, with exception to the canyon amphitheater he stood in, and the leased decks for Rangers outfit. Many parts of the hull were still unused despite the hundreds of personnel on board. The Shuttle bays had been cleared of cargo finally, and their "gifts" from Starfleet, courtesy of Admiral Ferrell had been delivered. Though the warp core was under-powered it got them up to speed all the same, a new core would be a necessary purchase but for now it would work. Staffing was still a problem, a third of the recommended crew made it dicey to fly with confidence, but there was slim pickings at the edge of space. The crew were largely misfits, stragglers, second sons or persons of interest looking to lay low. All of whom Fala had to grab at the lowest price point to achieve "butts in seats."

Throughout the ship myriad systems fired, unique technologies interacted in mysterious ways. Crew from all over gathered at the promise of fame and fortune. Life took on a routine air despite the unusual vessel, birds even flew through the bargo area and rats could be found in the darkest corners. Biomechanical apparatus which no military minded vessel would use was the mainstay for Oxygen filtration on board this ship, but the air was fresh. It was organic, like after a hard rain with lightning. There were two arboretums and a garden with an apiary, fresh food baked daily, in short, this was not a military vessel any more. It felt... alive, intimate, like a well worn article of clothing handed to you by a beloved family member.

Kas had confirmed all crew on board were assigned and made ready with drills, orientation packets, paperwork and most importantly, paid up. Fala insisted that the most common corruption to an empire was when its operators stopped getting paid, every one who had made it this far this fast had earned their first months pay and she made sure they got every penny. Integrity, that would set them apart. It wasn't just Starfleet who could stand for something.

Quinton enjoyed this last moment of silence before he stepped onto the stage. The remnants of the uncertain being who had come before were ready to slough into the aether along with his innocence. People had died to get them here. More would likely die soon, but where and when was a matter they had some control over. Once he stepped onto the stage, and addressed the assembled crew and residents it was official. He would be the captain of this impossible dream.

Falas voice pierced in its unique way, through reverie, self doubt and near crippling depression.
=0= Quinton, we got the amount on the judgement rendered just now.

=0= How much do we owe?
Quinton asked with trepidation, more afraid of the answer then he realized.

Fala grimaced, "One hundred fifty million or so."

"Holy Christ Fala! That's half the cost of building the damn thing ourselves!"

"I don't think your Uncle is backing us anymore. We will make it all back.We still have the Reserve Fuel Vault, I always have a stash."

"Enough for payroll though?"

"Talar nets us a solid half million if all goes well."

"Don't get me started on that fool's errand. We are their kept toy."

Fala wanted to console him, but knew Quinton preferred stoicism and restraint. Gently she reminded him, "They've pulled their people and removed mooring control, everything else is a payment Quinton. Ship is ours."

"We had a ship before, and see what I did with it?" Quinton didn't like the shape of those words the moment he said them. He needed to move past his self recrimination.

"I'll Remind you about the Tiburon as well."

"The Tiburon is apropos for a spycraft, it was our home, our ship they owed it back to us anyway."

"Whatever their intentions were, Starfleet is off the ship, it's the Second Star, rebuilt for our use. Since it will be a rescue craft, I got most of the refits written off under grant and chartered budgets.

Quinton was happy, the re-purposed ship was a reminder all the same "We got the Second Star back then is what you're trying to comfort me with."

"Better than ever."

Fala had woken Quinton up as a child, shrieking at his father. She was dealing with him more evenly than his father had ever managed. That old familiar home was gone forever. It still meant something to him, that old ship in shiny new apparel. Like a distant relative, he earnestly thought of anf cherished that ship. It was always in his mind and losing it had been a hole in his life. The loss of Dure, Terrence, Vollad and his beloved ship had cast his self doubt to a new level.

And here, one of his team, family, like as in an aunt or cousin was here to help.

"You make miracles happen Fala."

"You pay me top dollar for a good reason, You know what I can do when I want something bad enough."

"We make a good team, I can't express how much I appreciate that."

"We do, as it turns out. Your father... would have stolen this ship and lived the life of a pirate far from here. You... I like how you've approached this. We can do business."

Fate had done its worst, and they survived, it was still unreal. The feelings of impostor syndrome came over him, paranoia this was all a shell game and his successes handed to him. These voices would always be there he realized, hearing someone like Fala appreciate him was the perfect antidote.

"Yes, We can do business. We will do a lot of business."

Another chime,
=0= Othor to Beck, I've got the crew who aren't working settling into seats. Stewards are making sure all are accounted for as we speak, monitors will relay the stage to workstations shipwide. Judah is using the holographics to create your image in other places we dont have monitors... all set for live stage.

=0= O...

Quinton hesitated, using the shorthand for Othor for its familiarity he had to ask the only other man to know his father.

=0= I try to hear my dad, think about what he would do... I can't help but feel i've gotten in over my head.

Othor didnt reply immediately, as was his custom to consider words with care.

"We will never know I think what he would say of this, or of you. I wonder though... would you want him to be proud of you?"

That was food for thought. Alan Beck had run a different operation. Fala had just openly professed the Ferengi equivalent to fealty, Alan had kept her under contract. Othor had owed Alan a great debt, its repayment bequeathed to Quinton. Lui, Terrence, were well paid, and didnt mind the rough side of life for it.

Kas was his friend, and impeccably virtuous. Before her family had come to work for him the mercenaries on board sullied the operation. The old life was dirty, and hard, and lonely. This new life was terrifyingly complicated, but it was better.

Here, there were children, families, shops and parks... homes and families.

Quinton found his smile.

=0= Get your ass here pronto, I need my shoulder angel.

It was time to get started, and now he actually felt excited.

{Theater Audience}

Starr was mingling in the audience, keeping alert and ready for any action. He always found these sorts of events tiresome, and any excuse to get out of events that required dress uniforms back in Star fleet he would use. He wasn't one for ceremonial occasions, and Talloc decided to place him on guard duty. "I thought I got out of all this when I left the fleet" he muttered to himself, with a facial expression clearly stating that he didn't want to be here. Though as this was one of his first... freelance contracts, and now he was being paid for it at last, that did make some difference and, for now, he did as duty asked.

He continued to stay alert, nearing towards the front eyeing around the room for any dangers, something that he naturally did in any situation. It was that attitude that first got him into the academy, and then worked out that the Federation wasn't exactly the best fit for someone of that mindset. Nothing immediately catches his eye, except for an argument that looked like it was starting to brew among a couple members of the audience which drew his attention. He started making his way over to where the commotion was inevitable if someone didn't step in soon.

Othor loved a packed house, even though this gathering was mandatory, it would set the expectation for shows and events to follow. Vicente had finished his holographic set up, so when the time began to draw close he ordered up the visual effects. His seat, behind the audience and in a control room well hidden. This also let him confer with Deputy Sinclair, who kept an appreciable peace despite the crowd and few other deputies he had here. Two rows in front of him a seat dispute was turning ugly.

=0= Talloc, 45M is fighting with a man who claims that is his seat.
=0= 45M... Spotted. Starr, check that out
=0= Already on my way

He continued to survey the crowd, spotting Toriza. The Orion femme fatale was an owner in this venture now, though her role in ships functions was still a mystery. She took a seat in a private section Othor marked off for stakeholders in the corporation. The two muscled goons were her husbands/brothers, but she sent them to stand guard near her on the aisles.

N'tach had already found a good seat and seemed to be lightly dozing letting time pass until the show started. Avor and Lid'a were having an animated talk, but Ina came and pulled Avor away mid sentence. This made Othor chuckle and then chide himself. Ina was behaving as a child, inflicting emotional stress like a weapon. The children seemed happy to be with their father, but there was no love at all between Avor and Ina. Kas was playing dead, but there was a seething tempest on the horizon for Ina.

Judah surprised him,
=0= All set big guy, dim light at 1905?
=0= Yes, I'll inform Quinton. Break a leg Judah.
=0= If I had a leg to care about maybe...

The comment took Othor off guard. At what point did Judah cease being a Human being, and start becoming a program? Though he was no counselor, he needed to speak to the boy, the real boy.

In the gallery just on the other side of the partition, Starr continued to the point he had noticed and approached the two people arguing. "So, what's going on? This is meant to be a good time to get on, and there's already a quarrel here" he says, though not with much emotion behind it.

"This is my seat" says the man. He showed a ticket, no 45M indicated for seat. He was mistaken, but it didn't serve the future to reinforce bad behavior to either party. I got up to greet a friend and-"

"I don't see reserved written anywhere in this area." Starr responded bluntly. He would say he didn't have time for such a thing, but as of right now, it was all he had time for. "There's plenty of others, and as far as I'm aware, this isn't a reserved seating event."

"I was here first, he can get his own seat," says the other audience member, "I didn't see him sitting here." A human, still slightly smaller than Starr in build and height.

"Liar!" As theman swelled to take a breath and launch into a tirade Simon simply stood between them and addressed the seated man.

"And you aren't helping the situation either, remain quiet." Starr retorted at the man, then turned back. "This seat is obviously already taken," he turns back to the slightly red-faced angered male that approached and started the commotion in the first place. "It's not even the best seat in the room that's available, you just need to win this encounter."

True enough there were several options as good or better for him to choose. Simply pointing at one was all it took. The situation defused, the man relocates with a humph, before sitting down a few seats over to the left. Starr heads back down to his post towards the front of the auditorium and resumes his post.

{Elsewhere in theater}

Kas had only just returned from the bridge, Quinton had pulled off an impressive con ousting the mutineers but retaining the contracts, they were set to go. Her place was on stage but lately her desired to be seen by others was non existent. She was hiding, a prisoner in her own life.

Ina and three adorable Andorian children came down the aisle to find Kas.

"Matha!" Kee was seven years old, and full of life, she yelled for her mother in delight. She exploded at everything she wanted to look at and just threw herself into it. Kas never realized how much that would mean when it was directed at her, Kee was the most deadly of her children, Kas had spent a week in a coma.

"KEE!"

Lifting her up high in the air Kee kicked her legs, a child in her prime years of joy. Ina held Tor tightly, still too young for such things. Ina gave Kas a hostile expression for a moment before softening towards baby Tor in her arms. Ina took a seat, still clinigng to Tor. As Kas let Kee to the ground, she made faces at Zala as well.

Ina wasn't one to let a grudge go, and hers were weighty. "Don't you have to go help the Captain?" It was a barb as she knew Kas hadn't talked with Beck on any emotional level for weeks. Avor and Kas had taken to hiding behind ship duties to avoid her incessant guilt trips. Their recent drama with the marines had just for a moment let them hug and embrace, but Dure's absence posioned every encounter. Ina was cold as ice once more.

Avor wasn't there at the moment, or Ina would have been nicer, she played him against her, since they shared a more intimate bond. She also made sure to impress every guilt trip possible on Kas for feeling that way.

"No Ina, I am liking the the time I have with my children."

"Oh that's nice of you to try out."

"I am trying Ina, what more do you want from me."

"Avor, to realize he has to be twice the father now because you two just fell in love."

It stung to hear, but the truth hurt. "Ina, I wish he were here, and we could discuss why you can't show your true face in front of him. Can't lose the only other man in your life right? I am apparently expendable however. See you at home." Kas left Ina with the kids, once more. It was twisted, but Ina won every encounter with the trump card of their children. Kas couldn't feel any other way.

Above them, Vicente was hammering on the holo-emitters just over the audience in catwalk suspensions, below him six hundred people gathered for the "Welcome Show". Judah was testing the emitters with spirograph patterns, accidentally making a spectacular show for the crowd in cascading colors. For a split second as he turned the wrench, he thought the cheers were for his bolt turning ability.

{Sickbay-Morgue}

Akio ran his fingers through Judahs hair, and lovingly running the catalysis device over the pale skin. Bedsores were a problem, and the muscles, though useless needed to be stimulated as well. This cleansing ritual was daily, and his thoughts wandered absently, drifting from the Nebuta Matsuri festivals of his youth, to his recent conversation with Quill, unsure of what the future would bring. Stress had created a curious creature such as he, Akio let himself realize. His life had become dedicated to keeping Judah from dying. No different from the life support machines and glial gell dura matter, he too was another machine existing in service to stave off death.

"Akio."

Judah had taken on his Teenage avatar. There was only a few holo emitters with an angle in the room, so he appeared ghostly, and immaterial.

"This can wait, I know you want to go see the show, be with living people-"

Akio grit his teeth, "You are alive too."

"Probably. But this can wait. We don't have to live as fugitives any more, Airlock is sealed. We leave in less than a day."

"I must stay hidden, we will both lose everything-"

"No. Like you said, I am this ship now. With all I've expanded and learned, I can never go back to the bio-units memory cells. I'm here, this body is just my hardware, and automation can tend to it. Go live a little."

Akio knew the bio bed could handle all of it. Coma protocol with a few tweaks, easy. He couldn't bear the thought of returning to life without Judah to fight for. Was he right? Was Judah beyond having a body now?

"Very Well. I will. Care to walk with me?"

Judah almost mentioned that he was already at the Agora, and in the Morgue, and broadcasting Becks image shipwide to monitors. Akios reactions lately told him this was not something to soothe his friend. Judah walked into the main room of the infirmary, now in full projection. A fizzle of light and sound changed Judah from his crew jacket, to an old style mid 20 or 21st century Tuxedo. Fashion and history were two subjects Akio held little aptitude for. Looking into a reflection he saw his face, unshaven, unwashed, shabby. He remembered a time his looks made the girls chase after him.

"Here, let me..." Judah held the dermabraiser, leaving only smooth live skin cells in its wake as he shaved and polished the old mans face. Sonic cleaners unwrinkled the shirt, and with a few other cosmetic touches Judah straightened the collar Akio never wore correctly and considered his work.

When Akio looked into the mirror, the crazy and haggard fugitive had been replaced. The devilish grin of a sly fox came to his face once more in this life, a gift from his soul.

"Oh very handsome, thank you Judah, Thank you."

Beaming with an impossible smile he marched arm in arm with his friend.

{Agora- Amphitheater backstage}

Othor counted down in his ear, and the curtains rose. Music and fanfare played as he heard the speaker introduce a few people in the audience and thanked the guests for coming. A few of their investors managed to get here in time, some brass from Starfleet, though Beck felt a small bit of mirth that Captain Douglas may not be in attendance. finally he heard the beginnings of his introduction, sure enough the stage manager, hired for shipboard performance approached him."

"Hi, Captain Beck?"

He turned to acknowledge her and straightened his collar, it never lay evenly always finding a way to rumple. He nodded at her, and she took the initiative to pull his shirt down, which immediately fixed the collar, pulled a metal clasp and cinched the excess materials in his shirt and then wet finger from some unknown source raked his hair into perfect alignment. He didn't say it out loud, but her five seconds of tussling and now he actually looked the part.

"Okay much better, on in 20 seconds, be ready at your mark there."

Quinton took his place, a silver foil "X" on the side stage behind the curtain where he was soon to walk out.

From the stage he heard his cue,

"So, a great round of accolades once again for our esteemed guests... so now I turn this over to our main speaker. You know this man as your employer maybe, but did you know Quinton Beck had been over a hundred thousand light years traveled? Or did you know in their previous vessel, they saved the Doralan cityship through derring do and cunning the likes of which make for the stuff of legends..."

Quinton felt blood rush to his ears... That city ship had only been in danger because of his father stealing the reactor powering its engines. Drifting in space they were doomed, it had taken all of the crew begging for Alan Beck to "return" their machine for him to relent. That had been only months before Alans disappearance... no wonder they assumed it was Quinton. They hadn't saved anyone.

Quinton stepped out too soon, unable to stomach another word. The speaker, to his credit transitioned into the sudden presence of the main attraction without pause. Gesturing subtly to the band, the lights and stage transformed as music swelled. He was despite, the flub of his personal life history, impressed by the theater crew.

"So please sound your delight for our Captain... Quinton Alan Beck!

Many of the crew didn't, care, long cruises always started with silly orientations like this. It was a rundown for the rules basically and unimportant. So when Quintons first words came out, it caught that lot off guard.

"We are being watched."

The festive tone and affect ceased swiftly, a silence fell, bidden at the intent of the speaker.

"Starfleet wanted this ship to be taken and scuttled. a toy unwilling to have shared. We, were doing our jobs, couriers ferrying as couriers are wont to do. We were betrayed and left for dead only to be hunted and forced to hide in fear of our lives. We found this ship, fought for it, fixed it, flew it, and Starfleet tried to take it at every step. Now, as of one hour ago and with a thousand strings attached we will fly out of this Starbase under our own power."

This got some whoops for sure. The Engineering and Ops crew had seen triple overtime work the last three days. A few people present at the the verdict were also present and smiled widely at the memory of Quintons face when they announced their decision.

"I have flown more than a hundred thousand light years, I have seen much, and much of it was shown to me by my father, Alan Beck. That name may be known to some, or not I am not glorifying the man. He survived during tough times, became tough, and just as often as we did right, we did wrong it seemed. I am not eager to live those days over. I have worked on ships ranging from J class freighters to Vulcan Exciser craft. I have seen bad management, and I have had good leadership. I can't promise you I will always make the right decision, but I promise you it will be an educated decision on the basis of what is safe for my crew."

The Second Star appeared in vivid holographic detail over the seats. To this point nobody had seen a master systems display so comprehensive, secrecy preventing them from sharing information. Now they had to trust everyone who made the cut.

"As you can see, we have a composite configuration. And now two working Turbolifts."

Cheers and laughter spread throughout the audience, but Chief Callahan was always the troublemaker.

"Nope, TL2 beta and gamma is down again."

More laughs, Quinton among them.

"So we have one and a half working Turbo Lifts. Not bad. I want to have a place where we live, not just work. This isn't a pleasure cruise. We have three million tons of Oricalcum to ferry to Talar. We got the goods because they feel we can make the delivery, though not to mince words at all, we expect to be attacked, and have measures in place for that event. For many of you, it's a familiar fear. For many others it's a clutching terror. Rest assured, we have made this ship ready for the journey."

The lights started to rise, in parallel to the tension. The holographic rear to the theater disappeared and the cul de sac amphitheater at the forward end of the Agora was now one end of a long open space. What had once been jagged gash on the port half of the Saucer section was now a magnificent marketplace and social center. Balcony walkways lined vertically allowed storefronts to overlook the park and grassy first floor. A park, a town square, and a Holo-theater... the Agora was designed to keep the crew active and happy.

"We will go where others have gone, and we will go where few have dared. We will go, we will deliver the goods, and bring back priceless treasures and share our cultures with farflung peoples. We will see every corner of what we know of as charted space, and if we dare... and we do... we will go beyond."

Whispers had grown into cheers, most of the crew seemed to like the idea of far flung outposts and exotic lands. They all had their reasons for being here.

"This is our first voyage, and we want to make an impression of how we will be doing things. Many of you took the cost to accommodate room and board for your family, thank you, we will offer opportunities to earn additional profits, all shipboard facilities are open to crew and family. All of you came to us when we need a crew and I thank you all for the work we have put in. We are being watched because there is no ship like us... yet. How we do, determines the fate of a million workers like yourself who want to take command of their own ship, get out from under the lash of cruel captain and decrepit vessel. Soon, there will be mothballed starships given to cargo companies for their use and our skies will be filled with people who work, who dream, who have earned the right to rise above the hurdles in their path. Welcome to the Second Star, we can't wait to start this voyage!"

Quill was in the background; he had been waiting for this speech; the resounding hope and the objectives of the Second Star. The loft ambitions of a Captain with a salvaged ship, this is what Quill wished he had heard before he joined. It might have motivated his structure of his business. As a Doctor he had a practice on the ship; he also had a business in that same section of the hull and now it seemed a small part in the big picture of a type of cargo revolution. A real Renaissance Man in the captain, he wanted to show that it can be done and inspire others to follow.

"I had thought it would not be boring, now I am sure of it." He said as Bunny towered over him a bit; he liked tall women, it made his handicap seem less prominant.

"He has a cute idea." Bunny commented.

At no small cost Quill had purchased an Older style black tuxedo style suit in black with white shirt and matching cumberbund and top hat. The white gloves and cane were just for effect and if someone dare make a move on Bunny it would be handy.

Bunny was in a black formal dress with a skirt to the floor; the bead work was black but had the matte finish to each that could catch the light as she moved. A shoulder-less dress that maximized her slender shoulders and very satin like skin down to the white gloves that were just below her bicep to fingers with a silk sheen and elegance. Her hair was in a french braid with a silver comb on the right side and a pearl necklace that had the genuine article.

"Worth the price of admission." Quill commented as he had her hand on his elbow to be totally proper.

"And the price of this outfit?" Bunny asked.

"I made it inconvenient by asking on short notice it was the least one could do for you accompanying me." Quill smiled.

"I know you better than that." Bunny winked. "The alterations were minimal; this dress was very close to my size." She gave a coy glance. "How you got so close to my measurements is a question I dare not ask." She grinned. "I will just thank you for a lovely gown and leave it at that."

"Not as lovely as you Bunny, it only enhances you." Quill honestly complemented.

"It would be proper for me to follow a Ferengi rule or two maybe. She teased.

Quill almost showed color but was too professional to allow that... yet.

"Quill!... Doctor... Quill, my apologies..."

Elsewhere in the gallery, Judah and Akio in full concert dress made a dashing duo. With so many holographic emitters Judah could craft a pristine image and shape it delicately. Individual strands of hair piled loosely in perfect simulacrum of his real life scalp. Akio beamed, the stressful days of hiding were over, he had called to Quill, excited to see a new friend.

"I must come by your store, an apothecary using molecular biology is a powerful hook, and you are simply stunning fair lady Bunny."

Simon was in earshot, "Oh yes, I'd like to see your shop, is it open yet?" He asked, certain Quill was already breaking laws.

Starr continued wondering around the market, he knew that these "after-parties" were always when things could go downhill, but this one was mostly uneventful. As he walked, Talloc caught his eye.

"Starr! There you are, have you met Quill?" he turned.

"Well, he is the Chief Medical Officer here, so of course I have." Starr replied, with a slight disdain in his voice. He never liked Doctors, constantly chasing him for physicals during his last employment. Though he was sure that it was only a matter of time before Quill would be chasing him for a physical, as the previous medical officer he knew would.

Quill met Starr's gaze and nodded "Ah, the new security officer. Indeed, though no need for the tone, this is a social atmosphere, feel free to relax a little. Stress can be a dangerous thing" he replied, with a smile. "How have you found your time on the ship so far?" he asked.

Starr looked at Quill, trying to gauge his intent. He wasn't any telepath or empath so couldn't read his mind, but his instincts were to be careful when it came to Ferengi. They always worked in contracts and deals, and for money. Though in a way, that made him realize at this point he wasn't doing something to different himself.

"Well, I've been kept busy. Patrols, that sort of thing, and getting to know the crew - and having a bit more freedom in things has helped. Though the fleet can be a bore, some of their restrictions make things difficult. The marine posting here, that's the reason I left them in the first place. But we won't go into that." He replied.

Quill nodded, and looked to Bunny, communicating at a glance. "Well, it looks like the chief wants to get some rest, so we should let him close up for the evening. We'll have another busy day tomorrow" he said, as he turned to leave.

Starr agreed and agreed this was a good opportunity to meet a few more of the crew members, and at least know who the familiar faces are, in case that was ever an issue. Quill took his leave followed by Starr.

{Bridge- Moments later}

Othor, Fala, and Quinton sat in Falas office, observing the lounge windows view. Inside the Starbase it was truly nothing spectacular, but after their speech and twelve hours away from launch, it had an air of finality. Soon, stars would streak, planets from orbit, would grace these views.

"You both knew my father, and we have certainly forged our own connections since then."

Othor raised his tumbler, Aldebaran Whiskey with a single ice sphere. "Here Here."

Fala in kind raised her kanar, "Most certainly."

"Moving forward I'd like to keep him out of our thinking. I've chased his image for so long, now I realize, or I think I may be better. Maybe its the new ship, and ten times the responsibility-

Othor quipped, "More like, 100."

Fala was fast as a whip, "I'd say easily 1000."

Quinton chuckled, "Thanks yes, a thousand times the responsibility may have molded my thinking to include others. My instincts aren't for self preservation. My father left me, us rather, and he likely did it to save himself. That's not how I am going to do things. We are family, and you know... I can have a life here. So I want the same for both of you. Fala, our business is a solid working relationship, Othor, you're debts to my father are repaid. From here on, if we serve, we do it for the family."

Sensing a good toast, he raised his glass of Lousiana sweet tea,

"For the family."

-End-


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