S.S. Fawkes - CF-142AC
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Posted on Thursday August 13th, 2020 @ 17:49 hours by Seh'tan Soeardjo

Mission: Safe Passage

The doors to his quarters shut with a wheezing sound behind Seh'tan, and as the lights automatically turned on at half intensity, he put put down his jacket on the back of a chair, revealing the double shoulder holsters he customarily wears. He proceeded to remove the holsters and placed them on a table in the living room.

'Well, that was intriguing' he thought to himself about his encounter with Captain Droz of the Fawkes. The ship being a simple cargo, in other circumstances, he might have turned down her offer. He was done with milk runs. That's work for the run of the mill mercenary type.

Making his way to one of the cupboards in the living room, he opened it to reveal a clever cooling chamber. He reached for a bottle of andorian ale and walked to the replicator. "A mug, cold" he asked, and there it was a moment later. As he poured the ale into the mug and sat down in one of the sofas in the living room, his thought went back to Droz. There was something about her. There was something in her bearing, her poise. She was trouble, and he knew it instinctively.

He took a sip of the ale, but quickly realized there was something missing. "Computer, music" he then requested. With a chirp, the computer selected a random piece from Seh'tan's library. He then took another sip and his thoughts drifted back to her parting words. 'could use someone with your background', she said. Taken at face value, she might simply want to beef up security for her passengers and cargo, but everything about her told him her motivations were of a different order.

Picking up his mug, he rose again and made his way to the desk in the far corner of the room and sat himself down. Taking another sip from his drink, he finally spoke the words... "Computer, bring up schematics and floor plans for Groumall-type cardassian freighters. After inspecting the overall design of the ship, he focused his attention on the defensive capabilities of the ship. Finding them adequate for a ship of it's class and intended purpose, he gave an approving nod. They were no spring chickens, but they were competently built.

He took another sip of his ale. Was he really considering taking her up on her offer? It's certainly not like business is booming at this time, but he was not in any desperate need where he would have to take just any job thrown his way.

...and yet there was an undeniable draw to the idea of running with a charming rogue. At least for a while.

Fuck.

...guess I'll call her in the morning, he thought.

 

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