It is evening on Landon when your vehicle arrives. Congress spared no expense, getting each crewman a ride from their respective hotels in the capital of Marrel in a private limousine.
Each crewman was also sharing their ride in the car three military figures, not counting the drivers. The smartglass windows have been opaqued, so no one can see in, but no one is entirely comfortable looking at the two figures who sit facing backwards.
Smooth dark faceplates that seem less to reflect light and more to devour it hide the faces of these ... men? Women? Newly fabricated military robots? It's difficult to say. Their armor is bulky, looking like long, flat slats all strapped together with a wire mesh, but one which effectively conceals all skin from sight. They are still enough to be mistaken for mannequins, even when the cars take turns, or rise somewhat less than smoothly over a curb taken a bit too abruptly. Still, the slug-throwing projectors strapped to forearm and hip, and the bulkier canister of 'fire and forget' rockets look authentic, more so than in the trids and flatcasts.
Sitting adjacent to each crewman is a member of the military in full formal wear, the lines and folds of his (or her) suit cleanly pressed. In stoic voices, these men and women dispense final warnings to each of the crew about the dangers of deep space, and the importance of cooperation on this mission.
The firepower seems a bit much; while the armed men remain in the car, shifting only slightly to turn their heads a bit from one side to another, there are equally well armed soldiers in sparse groups at your destination. These soldiers are completely surrounding the Palace of Acknowledgement, where Grand Attorney Haikes himself will preside over the speeches, the dinner, and then the dance to follow.
Uncomfortable as some crew obviously are in the suits and dresses that Congress has required you to wear to this event, no one complains; the show of force is discomforting in a much more worrisome manner. Under a light spatter of rain, you find yourselves escorted into the main hall, along with the rest of the auxiliary crew.
The First Crew is already there, standing about in the large hall. The hall is shaped like a six-pointed star, nearly three hundred yards across, and rising to a dome above the center two-hundred feet high. Men in less imposing black suits stand about the inner points of the stars in groups of three, surveying all impassively.
Here and there various members of the three Tribes circulate among the crew, offering their congratulations and nodding knowingly to people they don't actually know. In the far corners of the room, benches line the doorways. Through one of these lies the dining hall, somewhat less grand than the chamber of stars, but still very well appointed. Columns of stone from Demeter support a crystalline dome of what can only be carefully pieced together deposits from Purgatory. Corvallis likely had their hands in the dome as well, for when Grand Attorney Haikes enters the room, it changes from a soft, cloudy blue into a jet black surface, flecked with twinkling white stars.
The Grand Attorney himself is getting on in years, now having just completed his fiftieth year in office. But at the age of ninety four, he still walks with quiet dignity, not relying on a cane, and managing a pace that doesn't show his age.
His immaculate black suit also shines briefly with the stars from the dome, and all have by now fallen silent. The crowd parts and falls back, the media-relay crew among the last, giving way almost reluctantly, capturing the aging politician in all his stately glory.
When he reaches the center of the dome, standing beneath the vault of shining stars, and atop the Seal of Congress, he begins to speak, and his voice reverberates through the entire hall:
"I would like to welcome the crew of the Eidolon," he says gravely, his face solemn. "It is a proud day to know that we are united in our cause. It is a prouder day still to see the foremost product of our engineering," he says, causing the majority of Angels to nod knowingly, "designed and augmented by the best of our programmers," he adds, causing a number of Selkens of varying builds to nod as well, "and crewed by the best men and women in our system.
"We have chosen our best, and our brightest," he continues, inclining his head to the area where the First Crew stands. "We have offered up the most magnificent crowning achievement that Congress can ever hope to forge without the glory of the Ancients. And for what cause?"
The crowd, already very muted, falls silent at this question, all eyes turning to the Grand Attorney expectantly.
One corner of Haikes's mouth twitches upward in a smile. "To go forth and seek out our long-lost brethren. To add to our fold that which had been lost." A murmur breaks the delicate silence at this, questioning voices running through the crowd, none directed at Haikes himself. "To unite all of humanity under the banner of kinship."
Turning around, facing the other half of the crowd in the hall and leaving the media crew to scurry for a better angle, he continues, "And perhaps, it will be that we find no living brothers and sisters to welcome home. But we are willing to undertake this risk because we have the ability to cross that infinite sea of stars and still bring our best and our brightest home.
"And even if there is nothing there, we will have proven that we can reclaim those lost stars, of so long ago." The murmuring rises into a frenzied babble at this. Haikes smiles quietly to himself, and walks away, saying no more.
As he steps off the Seal of Congress the black-suited men from the periphery converge, driving the media crews away and escorting him out of the hall. Shortly after that, the dome turns a gentle gold, washed with red; bathed in the light of an artificial sunset.
Attendants emerge from the dining hall and usher the media crews away, inviting all else to enter the hall proper and eat, apparently unconcerned with Haikes's announcement.
You are then left sitting together, uncomfortably aware that as calm as Haikes was, you've never before had a chance to meet most of the crew you're working with. A quiet waiter approaches after you've been seated, and murmurs an ancient question to you: "Chicken, fish, or vegetarian, Sir/Ma'am?"
Looking around the room, Finn picks an older man at random from the crowd, and points at him. "I'll take whatever he's havin', right?" She grins cheekily at the waiter, her manner and her appearance combining to suggest a twelve-year old tomboy.
Brushing her short blonde hair back behind one ear, she looks around the table. "Murphy wept, that was a shi-- lot of show, waznit?" she comments cheerfully. "Bored seven kinds of hell outta me." She glances down at the formal dress she's been forced into, and rolls her eyes. "If they'd tol' me about all this rigamarole, mighta thought twice, y'know?"
"Uh...chicken, thanks." Kelly kept his head down mainly, not really comfortable with these crowds.
Dracos
Albert cranes his neck uncomfortably to look over in the direction of the captain's table. Is that fish... or chicken? I can't tell at all from here... Uh oh, I better decide fast or they'll think I'm a blithering idiot who can't even decide what to have for dinner!
"Pork!" he blurts out.
The waiter nods solemly and walks away with Finn and Kelly's orders. Another waiter looks at Albert oddly, and says surreptiously, "Vegetarian it is," stealing a conspicous glance at the captain's table and nodding significantly.
At this same table, a young Congressional woman with very fair skin and shoulder-length light brown hair raises an eyebrow. "So you're one of the crew, then?" she clarifies, looking at Finn speculatively. "My father said that the screening and security process took forever; how bad was it really?"
The room is filled with about ten large circular tables, each of which seats twenty people. This suggests that there's eighty people in this room who are apparently just here for the hell of it and not actually going on the mission.
A burly Selken -- probably a Demeterian to judge by his short height and broad shoulders -- at your table with a sleepy expression mumbles something about vegitarian to the waiter. He then sighs moodily, scratching at the tattoo on his earlobe that plunges below the collar and looking towards the table where the First Crew sits.
Their table is roughly in the center, and you can see Seraph Kim Landys, the looking archly at Dragon Hodges Meyer, as the Selken goes on in a thin, uneven voice about the masterpiece of construction that the A.I. is. The two Congressional men between Kim and Hodges exchange a speculative glance -- it's difficut to tell if they're crew or just guests, but judging by their bored expressions, they couldn't really care less about the conversation.
Coughing pointedly, Attorney Marcus Andrews pointedly changes the subject. It's difficult to hear his voice from his table over the crowd, as he speaks gently, but the gist of his words seem to suggest that both Seraph and Dragon should be quiet, as the mission would be nothing without Congressional funding. This earns him a number of cool stares from his non-congressional crewmates at the table, and the toast he suggests afterwards is half-hearted.
Scratching his head and sighing, a wiry Congressional man in a suit that's almost too small for him at his own table mutters, "I don't know about that, Miss," to the Congressional woman who addressed Finn. "Now that the media casters are gone, I don't entirely mind saying that I think the First Crew wasn't screened well enough at alll?"
The brown-haired woman titters in polite nervous laughter at this and says, "Oh, you should not say such things! But tell me, was it hard to agree to give up forty years of your life for this mission?"
"I ain't givin' up squat," points out with a lop-sided grin. "Ain't like I'm goin' to be livin' shorter for havin' done it, right? 'Less I eat a rock on a walk, or get et by green beasties, of course." She shrugs, leaning back in her chair, and reaching out for her water glass. "That's the way life is, right? You takes yer chances, and you hope fer the pay-off. An' this is a pretty good pay-off, wot?" She winks at the brown-haired woman.
"Ah, of course," the woman says nodding, looking somewhat dissapointed with this question, but quickly masking it. "You, there," she says looking suddenly at Albert. "What about you? Why did you choose to sign on?"
"Yes... I said vegetarian," Albert mumbles awkwardly as the waiter departs.
Listening in to the conversation around him, he perks up when addressed. "Well why wouldn't I?" he asks, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, "It's the opportunity of a lifetime - to leave the tired old routine and strike out into the unknown, seeking out danger and adventure, seeing sights unknown to human eyes," he seems to be getting rather into his spiel as he concludes with what he thinks is a dashing smile, "To boldly go where no man has gone before."
The brown-haired congressional woman sighs wistfully, her eyes going distant. "That's so noble!" she gushes, fully turning her attention away from Finn. "The human spirit of discovery -- you know, my father was the Attorney that appealed the decision to have the flight go unmanned."
"Ah, cheers. Say thanks t' him for me, then," Finn interjects, blissfully unaware of the woman's not-so-subtle attempt to cut her out of the conversation. "Workin' the Eidolon's a lot better'n any ovver job I had goin'."
"Really?" Albert leans forward, working his memory to try and recall if he knows who said attorney is. "Then everyone on this crew - no, every human alive, owes him a great debt. I mean, can you imagine; a machine exploring the unknown with no concept of the human drive to expand ourselves? It'd just spend all its time cataloguing space dust or something ridiculous."
The woman titters in laughter at this, agreeing, "Oh, so true! But tell me -- what was your name, Sir? I'm Sally Thorne, daughter of Attorney Thorne." Glancing at Finn briefly, she adds, "My Genetic Merit rating is seventeen."
This draws glances from the nearby Congressionals, as they look at Sally in surprise for a moment, before turning away and falling back into their own conversations.
Coughing quietly, the Selken at the table says, "We do owe your father a debt, Mrs. Thorne--"
"Miss," she corrects.
One of the Selken's eyebrows twitches slightly higher for a moment before moving back into place. "Miss Thorne, then," he says lightly, offering a forced smile. "We owe your father a debt. I think a computer would manage the job of exploration without any trouble at all...." At this, Sally nearly pouts, looking like she plainly doesn't need this brute interjecting his stupid reality in her perfectly servicable fantasy. "...but if our brothers await us in the stars, how could we ask a computer to greet them for us? And would be build a machine to shake the hands of our new friends?" Sally relaxes at this, and studies the Selken for a moment before deciding he too can be dismissed. Turning back to Albert, she asks, "What was your name, then?"
Albert puffs up his chest a bit. "Albert Riley, at your service. It's a distinct pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Thorne."
Reaching into her purse, Sally winks and offers her dance card to Albert.
Ignoring the airhead, the Selken nods to Finn. "I am looking forward to this expedition, as well, perhaps for different reasons, but I believe that we will all benefit from it. If it's not rude to introduce myself, I am Eric S`on-D`urth." He grimaces at that, and before anyone else can speak, hastilly tacks on, "Please call me Eric."
"Finn Ezekiel," Finn replies easily, "an' you can call me wotever gets my attention." She winks again, and then laughs. "An' don' get me wrong," she adds, "I'm lookin' forward to this trip, too. Ain't nothin' I like better'n' bein' onboard -- an' this is the best ship ever, right?"
Score! Albert thinks, carefully putting the card in his breast pocket.
Tuning out everyone else, now, and focusing exclusively on Sally, he goes on. "I must say, as much as I'm looking forward to bravely seeking out the unknown to better mankind, it will be a sacrifice to depart for so long away from home, and companionship..."
"I believe so," the man says, smiling brightly. He doesn't seem half the mindless brute Demeterians are supposed to be. "I myself am of less use aboard a ship than some of the crew, I confess," he adds, eliciting a derisive snort from Sally. Unpreturbed, he continues, "but I have been trained to use and repair hydraulics. Primarily, I admit, I am a geologist." He nods to himself at this. "But I have no doubt that I'll have plenty to study on this mission."
"It must be trying," Sally says, turning to Albert. "I imagine it takes great strength of will to commit to something so dangerous -- and long term."
"Hydraulics?" Finn perks up. "I'm the EVA engineer, y'know -- or one of 'em, I suppose. Yer main job the pipes, or you aboard for the science fings first?"
"Well, strength of will is what it takes," Albert nods fawningly, "They don't pick the faint of heart for such... dangerous... and exciting, missions. And I'll have my memories of home to preserve me through the long term. Indeed, there's still time to make more memories..." he finishes with a calculated tone of wistfulness.
Eric blinks pointedly, and shoots Albert a highly skeptical glance, but says nothing. Sally seems completely taken with the speech, though, and giggles like a schoolgirl. Coughing, and trying to cover the look, Eric fumbles for his glass of water and takes a sip before explaining to Finn, "Science primarily. I learned about hydraulics when we were mining on Demeter -- standard 1G equipment wasn't holding up very well, and the replacement costs were so high. This, of course--" He cuts himself off realizing he's babbling, and coughs quietly. "Ah, that is, yes, I am a geologist primarily."
"Of course, I'm no stranger to danger," Albert continues boastfully at Sally's interest. "Why, I should tell you about the time when I served aboard the Blue Pygmy through Diamat's Eyelid..."
With that, he launches into a highly embellished tale of danger and derring do, whereupon he singlehandedly saved the ship from both a radiation leak and a blown out engine that brought them perilously close to being dashed upon the merciless rocks surrounding Diamat.
"Shi--" Finn cuts off, looking around the room as she remembers where she is, and then coughs and starts again. "Ya might as well talk about yer time on Demeter." She grins widely, and shoots a sidelong glance at Albert. "Bet you five to one that it's more in'erestin' than half the fings ovvers are yappin' about."
Eric chuckles wryly. "Perhaps so," he admits, glancing at Albert and Sally briefly. "But I was introduced to hydraulics when the machinery Demeter imported for minery couldn't withstand the gravity well enough." He hesitates, and then says, "Rocks, while more interesting than ... some subjects ... aren't as fascinating to me as life in deep space. I take it that you are a Spacer?" he inquires.
Sally is enraptured by the story Albert weaves ... until a somewhat elderly Congressional man wearing a suit with a medal pinned over one breast pocket suddenly turns from his table and starts staring at Albert fixedly.
Kelly, meanwhile, listened with vague disinterest after he recognized what was being talked about. Flexing his hands a bit nervously, he kept generally from joining in on any of the conversations while waiting for both his meal to arrive and, far more importantly, this accursed public spectacle to end.
Dracos
Noting the unfriendly scrutiny, Albert's delivery becomes more and more stunted as his focus is disrupted.
"And then... well... what I mean to say, is, things were pretty dicey there, for a while, but the whole crew really pulled through... I mean, everyone did his part..." he coughs, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "I couldn't take full credit, of course. But that was just one adventure among many..."
Phew, is it hot in here?
"Born'n'raised." Finn nods. "Be in space most o' my life -- and for all o' the good fings." She shrugs. "Rather be up there then down here, an' dat ain't tellin' a lie."
With a numb, growing horror, Albert recognizes the man as the captain of the Blue Pygmy. That man is none other than ... Kissenger Thorne. Apparently now Attorney Thorne.
"Do go on," Eric presses, though it takes a moment for it to filter in that he's adressing Finn, and not Albert. "I've only been in space a few times myself ... only briefly in zero gravity. In-systems flights are so fast these days." He shakes his head and shrugs.
"Ain't nothin' to say, really," Finn says. Just for a second, the cheerful expression fades off her face, to be replaced by a wistful one. "No way to describe being in zero -- it's not like flyin', or floatin', it just is, and ain't nuffin' else to say about it. Right? An' the bubble..." She shakes her head slowly. "The bubble ain't part o' real space, so th' doctor-types say, an it ain't nothing but transcedental, no two ways 'bout it."
Albert pales hugely as he finally recognises the man - not like he saw the captain very much, as a third class technician aboard said ship...
"Guh..." he tugs at his collar. How'd old Thorne get so high up? Why didn't I recognise the name! I'm going to die!
"Let me tell you another story!" he begins quickly, desperately seeking to salvage his situation. "It was just after I started serving on the Blue Pygmy, actually..."
With that, he launches into a new tale, extolling the wondrous merits of the cunning and skilled captain of said ship, although carefully never mentioning him by name - that way he can act surprised if it comes up that he's Sally's father. Or something.
Where's a hole in the ground when you need one? he thinks, shooting a brief glance at the floor beneath Attorney Thorne.
"Yes," Eric agrees nodding slowly. "It was certainly ... enlightening."
Conversation breaks off breifly as the waiters return, setting a plate before everyone and topping off water glasses before they inobtrusively fade into the background.
The portions are good sized, but Eric looks at his in confusion for a long minute; the vegetable dish is apparently mixed with pasta and a white sauce. The fish comes with lemon, and the chicken looks to be simply roasted. Eric sighs, and mumbles something under his breath before speaking in a normal tone again. "I learned something of the math behind that effect while I was in school, but admit, much of that is entirely beyond me. Give me a home among the rocks, and I am happy. But I still wish to brave the ocean of stars on this journey." He nods and sips from his water, not touching his food.
Sally, meanwhile, seems put off by Albert. "No, no, tell me more about the time you saved the entire crew," she insists loudly.
"Shh! Shh!" Albert tries to hush the woman. "It's not a good time for that... I shouldn't spend the whole meal talking about myslf, I mean," he tries to amend smoothly. "Why not tell me a bit about yourself, Miss Thorne? I'd love to hear more about what it was like for you growing up with such an auspicious father."
Finn eyes Eric oddly, before picking up her fork and setting to whatever it is that she ended up with. "Do you always talk like that?" she asks, a bit drily.
Sally frowns, and then brightens, quickly launching into a lengthy missive about her life on Landon, where she moved as a child once her father had reached a significant income level by Congress, and from there had attended a long list of private schools ... all of which she assures you she left for her own personal reasons; her marks had nothing to do with it. But her daddy certainly never pulled any strings for her, such as getting her into a strictly controlled-attendance gathering, of course. She got in entirely on her own merit.
Eric coughs in embarassment, and tugs at his collar. "I'm sorry," he says, grinning. "I spend much of my time as a teacher. The old ways must be spoken by rote for the young ones. I will try not to speak ... I will try and talk like a normal person, then."
Albert listens raptly while making all the right noises of assent and encouragement, hoping Sally's rambling will dissuade her father from listening in further - although he doesn't tempt fate by looking to check. Starting in on his own meal, he waits until she begins to taper off before speaking. "So, Miss Thorne, what do you do, now? When not gracing such functions with your most welcome presence?"
"Eh, 'sokay," Finn says, waving a knife in casual dismissal. "I mean, I ain't a person wif anyfing that could prop'ly be called a right t' complain, y'know? You talk how you want, an I'll talk how I want, and as long as we don't blow nuffin' up, should all be good."
"Oh," Sally says, pausing to consider. "I'm a student, of course," she says carefully. "Though, right now I am between schools. I expect I'll become a novellist at some point."
Eric nods at Finn gravely. "That is very wise of you. Comendable, in fact."
Before anyone else can speak, there's a clamoring, as Captain Kim Landys stands on her seat, and hoists a glass of wine into the air, enthusing, "And here is to the finest crew that the Congressional Sector can assemble!" she manages to get out, looking down triumphantly at Hodges. The Selken crosses his arms over his chest and looks pointedly away. It appears that the two were challenging one-another to be the better and more accepting person, and Kim has just trumped his last efforts.
Waiters quickly set a glass of wine before each of the guests, so that they can join in the toast. Sally tosses back her entire glass in a single gulp; Eric raises his glass, but not to his lips.
Finn also raises her glass, but does not drink. "This ain't 'zactly impressin' me," she says under her breath.
"Hear, hear!" Albert enthusiastically joins the toast, turning back to Sally as the ruckus dies down. "A novellist, you say? Enchanting... just a pity I won't be here to watch your no doubt illustrious career blossom. I'm sure you'll have assembled a fine body of work by the time we return, though."
"Undoubtedly!" Sally enthuses. "Ooh, they're opening up the dance floor -- shall we?"
Eric frowns, and makes a dismissive hand gesture. "Doubtlessly the First Crew is more than capable," he says very quietly, though a strong undercurrent of doubt fills his voice. "I suspect that it is the fact that we do not have enough time to meet one another that gives us the impressions that we have. And if not ... providence may see us through, but a watchful eye and keen ear serve where fate will not." He makes the hand gesture again, and this time Finn's eyes track the glint of the steel band Eric is wearing on his the middle finger of his right hand. But on closer inspection, it's not steel -- it's titanium, etched with dragons in minature across the entire surface in amazing detail.
"Certainly, madam," Albert gives another (what he thinks is) dashing smile, rising and offering a hand to Sally.
Most of the Eidolon crew seems reluctant to dance, but Sally is not one of them, and is therefore quite eager, practically dragging Albert to the floor, as the music starts up, and Sally says, "Fox-trot!"
"Aww, that's not what I meant," Finn says dismissively, with a somber air. "I mean th' wine. Never trust a cap'n who don't know enough to serve his crew beer, me daddy always used t' say." She grins suddenly, and then laughs and winks.
Watching as Albert and Sally get up to dance, she comments casually, "Dancin'. Never really saw t' point, y'know. It's a lot more'n' looks like, and if ya don't trust yer partner...." She shakes her head sadly, and cocks an eyebrow at Eric.
Albert... isn't really that good at dancing. Except ballet, which he was forced to learn as a child. Probably best that that doesn't come up, though, all things considered.
Nonetheless, he does his utmost to keep up with his partner on the dancefloor, hardly able to believe his luck at hitting it off so well with this lovely lady.
"I ... lack the grace for dancing," Eric agrees, noding solemly. Turning to the man who's sat the entire evening without doing much more than shuffling his chicken around his plate, apparently trying to cordon off the different bits of meat with noodles, Eric says, "I apologize, Friend, we did not mean to be rude and exclude you. Please, tell us about yourself."
Luckily (perhaps) for Albert, Sally's got enough grace for two people, even though she does end up leading. This isn't too uncommon in the current era, and in some cases is even seen as gentlemanly, so it's not an entirely lost cause. After the fox-trot, there's a slower song, and Sally carefully fits Albert's arm about her waist, at the same time Albert is able to see Attorney Thorne, who by now has one slowly ticing eyebrow.
Kelly blinked at being noticed at all, somewhat reflexively reaching a hand back and scratching the back of his head in a nervous gesture. "Ah, I'm Kelly Sinclair. Systems Operator and Maintainer."
Dracos
Albert shoots a slightly surprised look over at Attorney Thorne as he begins slow dancing with Sally, quickly schooling his expression and looking anywhere but at him. Although he does stick rather close to the woman, in spite of any concerns he may have...
"I recall seeing you on the trip -- from Corvalis, yes?" Eric asks. Without actually waiting for a reply, he adds, "I've heard that the new A.I. is supposed to be unsurpassed in terms of stability."
Attorney Thorne stares at Albert for a long minute, and then looks away, huffing angrily and gulping at his wine.
"Yeah. From thereabouts. And yeah, she was a real piece of work. A pleasure to work on." He quickly returned at least on semi-comfortable ground.
Dracos
Eric nods at that, smiling gently. "'She'? I hadn't known she ... did it select a gender, or was one assigned to it?" he asks.
On the dance floor, Sally giggles loudly, and pushes Albert gently away, her eyes glinting as she smiles. "Oh, you silly," she says, leading Albert back to the table.
"Er... yes," Albert chuckles a bit awkwardly, his mind whirling as he is led back to the table.
Only moments after Sally is seated next to Albert, Mr. Thorne himself arrives, and says in a largely jovial (if forced) voice, "Come, Sally, it's time for us to leave -- we can't tarry long."
Sally pouts, but nods. "Okay, Daddy," she says lightly, giving Albert a peck on the cheek before being led from the hall.
Albert blushes a bit, before his face clouds as the Thornes leave.
Next time he sees them, Sally will likely be an old woman, while her father will almost certainly be dead...
A thin man - wearing a rather heavy jacket for formalwear - looks up from his fish as Sally leaves the table and across the now-empty seat towards Albert.
"Better luck next time then, eh?"
"Next time..." Albert snorts morosely, "Yes, I'm sure there'll be just plenty of opportunities on the ship when they thaw me out in forty years."
Attempting to shake it off, he goes on, "Ah, well. No matter - who has time for romance when we have the excitement of discovering the unknown, am I right?"
The sentiment is quite clearly false, but he proposes the half hearted toast, anyway, taking a massive gulp of his wine without even waiting to see if anyone follows it.
Frowning at the silence of the progammer sitting next to Finn, Eric shrugs, and glances briefly at Albert, then beyond him, to the pale-haired man in the heavy coat. "I ... don't believe we've met?" he says cautiously.
"But think how many ladies you'll impress once we get back!" the man says earnestly as Albert lays into his wine - then Eric gets his attention.
"Oh, sorry. Kieran Abernase, starship engineer, and you are?" he asks, extending a hand.
Albert pauses as he finishes off his wineglass. "That's an excellent point," he admits, brightening.
Leaning across the table (and in front of Albert) Eric's large hand engulfs Kieran's. "It's an honor to meet you," he says, taking exaggerated care not to crush the Angel's hand. "I saw your name on the list of designers for the Eidolon?" he adds, once the handshake is complete.
Kieran nods, looking pleased. "Yes, I helped with some of the later design work - and with putting her together, of course. She's a fine piece of work, isn't she?"
Eric nods, and glances at Finn. "You've had a chance to look over the design specs yourself?" he asks.
Kelly, seeing the conversation had moved on, made no move to interrupt and regain the center of attention.
Dracos
"I had a look or two," Finn admits. "Readin' over pages ain't my fing, though. It ain't real 'til you get yer mitts on it, right? Sweet ship, though, looks to be like. Can't wait!"
"The specs don't do it justice," Kieran continues brightly, "that ship is a marvel." He looks like he's about to continue, then catches himself.
"I don't believe I caught your name either, sorry . . ." he says to Finn, extending a hand.
"Finn Ezekiel," she replies, taking Kieran's hand with her own small, slight one. "Pleased to meetcha."
Kieran shakes Finn's hand - his own not much larger than hers, really.
"It's a pleasure," he says, withdrawing his hand again, and then offering it to Eric. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name earlier . . ."
"Eric S`on-D`urth," Eric replies nodding, but not moving to shake Kieran's hand a second time. "And this is Mr. Riley," he says, indicating the man sitting between Eric and Kieran. "I apologize, Mr. Riley, I should not speak over you to Mr. Abernase."
"Quite alright," Albert waves it off, already looking a little bit wobbly from how he's been hitting the wine while the others talk. "Nice to meet you all," he nods to his fellow crewmembers, now that he no longer has someone else to distract him. "Since I don't think I've mentioned it already, I'm communications officer, second class."
"Wotcha," Finn replies brightly. "I'd imagine you'd be pretty damn good at that."
Switching to the more complicated and less efficient speech paterns of Old Earther, Eric asks, "And how fluent are you in the old language?"
"I'm passably fluent in several languages from Earth," Albert replies in English, before switching back to congressional standard. "It's my duty to support the primary communications specialist, although I haven't met him, yet... I imagine he'll be the one who'll handle anything interesting, while I just make sure the equipment stays in order."
Eric nods at this. "Undoubtedly," he says, also in congressional standard once more. Pushing his plate away from himself as the waiters come around to clear the dishes, he sighs. "Well, that's tonight, then. I suppose we have just a little bit of time before we are to be frozen and sealed."
"'Bout time," Finn grumbles. "I didn't sign on for all this posh garbage." She nods at the waiter taking her plate, grabs her water glass, slams it back, and then passes it over to the server. "Sooner we gets in the cooler, sooner we're out, right?"
She makes a face, then. "Hope they don't faw me any more'n they need to."
Edit: Remember to use all the words!
Eric grunts at that, not really paying attention. He seems to be looking fixedly at the First Crew, which is getting progressively more smashed, with the exception of one of the Attorneys, and Dragon Hodges.
"Being frozen isn't my idea of a good time, but at least we won't be aware for it. Just pop out forty years from now feeling like it's tomorrow," Albert comments inbetween putting away yet more wine.
Glancing over her shoulder at where Eric is looking, Finn frowns slightly. Buncha nobs getting pissed... so what? What's the big deal?
Turning back, she grins at Albert. "Yeah, it'll feel like the day after, all right," she laughs. "Ain't no fun in bein' iced, true 'nuff."
"Uh... More like sixteen. It's not fourty there and fourty back. Sixteen there, Eight on the research, and Sixteen back." Kelly chipped in, correcting Albert.
Dracos
"Oh, you're right," Albert replies slowly to Kelly, obviously having to think it over.
"I suppose I'm just used to thinking in terms of how long till we come home," he offers by way of explanation.
"Well, uh... if your that set on when you get back, what's the point of the journey?"
Dracos
Cocking an eyebrow, Finn adds, "Not even on board an' yer already countin' the days 'til we get back? Good fing you'll be iced, cuz I ain't up fer dealing wif yer homesickness."
"To tell people what we've found," Albert comments, looking at Kelly oddly. "Not much point if no one else gets any benefit from our discoveries."
"Or...just to see it for ourselves." Kelly shrugged, not really much for arguing the point.
Dracos
"We're not just thrillseekers out on a joyride," Albert reprimands everyone, waving his finger in a rather wobbly manner as he fails to focus on any one target. "We're representing the whole Congress out there, and need to bring something worthwhile back to justify the investment of this mission."
"Mebbe you are," Finn says, rollin' her eyes. "Me? I'm a space monkey. I don't need to bring back nuffin' but my own skin. The fun's in the ship, and the prize is the money." She leans back, crossing her arms behind her head, before remembering that she is, in fact, wearing a cocktail dress rather than a pair of overalls. Hastily, she sits back upright in her seat, tugging her dress back into place.
Eric chuckles at that. "We each have our own reasons for being on this mission," he says, shaking his head. "But for now, I need to be going back to my room. I have a message to send my family before we leave." Rising from his seat, he looks apologetic, and nods his head at everyone.
Albert nods as Eric leaves, content to go back to hitting the booze.
Kelly went back to being backstream, having gotten his 'do before departure' list done a few days ago.
Dracos
"I'm gonna get sleepin', too," Finn says, rising to her feet. "Don't drink too much," she advises Albert. "You remember wot they said 'bout yer blood alcohol an' the cryo, right? 'Less you wanna blow somefin' in yer brain, or get chucked offa the crew at last second..."
With a nod and a wave, she makes her way out of the ballroom. Once her back is safely turned, she grins to herself, and whistles a little tune. Wonder if he's sober enuff to catch the joke?
"Of course I knew that!" Albert asserts confidently.
Until Finn turns her back, at which point his eyes turn very wide and he backs away from the wine almost fearfully.
"Waiter?" he asks after the spacer leaves, "Can I get some coffee?"
The waiters bring over coffee, and on request, also provide detox tablets. They tend to run all the alcohol from a system, but dehydrate whoever takes them rather severely as a result, thus providing a nearly simultaneous combination of sobriety and hangover.
Ah, the marvels of modern medicine.
Albert swiftly consumes the coffee and tablets, promptly feeling about a billion times worse.
"I think I'll turn in," he says a bit groggily, getting up to leave.
On his way out the door, Albert is handed a phamplet giving him instructions on how to prepare for cryo. The time for actually being frozen isn't until around noon tomorrow, which is good, because the phamplet advises that anyone preparing for cryo should not have any alcohol in their systems (it freezes at a different temperature, which can complicate things) but to be properly hydrated before going under.
It should also not be attempted by the elderly, anyone who is pregnant, the severely injured, or those with heart conditions.
Barely glancing at the pamphlet, Albert goes to put his head under his pillow until the pain goes away.
Kelly, seeing that the whole pomp and circumstance was mostly over, took the opportunity to make his way slowly to the exit, heading out with his hands in his pockets to his car to drive for one last night sleeping in a comfortable bed.
Dracos
Kieran has been sipping on his own wine, giving an unreadable look at the fracas that is the first crew's table - finishing his glass finally, he politely makes his own farewells to the (very few) people remaining at the table, and heads for the entrance to himself.
And so ends the formal gathering, and the first meeting of some of those who would comprise the Second Crew in the event of a catastrophe.