Gangsta Moll Deactivated

Hope she saw what I was doing

Roll onto my back

Shift over in bed to make room.

I have plans for that kitchen: once I get out of this current mess.

Just stay out of my kitchen...

The security guard is taciturn, silent, when he collects me. I don't speak either: there is nothing to say, no way out, I will take my chances as I may. In the hallway, on impulse, I stop, turn to face him, place my arms gently round his neck and wait for him to lift me - to carry me, cradled in his arms, as he did when bringing me to the Captain. I hope he does: nothing is going to be easy from now on and I could use a little strong silent protection before I have to become an outcast again. (Taking this to the Vault now)

Right, this isn't going as well as I hoped. No way am I telling them who I am, but if they search for my face and fingerprints they risk triggering the Asteroid Mining Corp bounty hunters, who will by now be hacking every possible ID feed available. I feel like crying: all I did was to ... borrow ... this fucking Crystal, how was I to know it was the source of power for their entire operation? And nobody DIED, did they? I mean, OK a lot of people were sort of ... hurt ...and yes, a lot of people ... well, all of them ... lost a lot of money but nobody actually DIED ... as far as I know. Resigned, I hold out my wrists for cuffing: "OK, you win, call the security hunk back"

My friend AI seems less friendly this time than I hoped: and given the bounty placed on my head I am not keen to tell what led me to become a fugitive, nor in doing so to draw attention to the stolen Dark Star Crystal that adorns my ring. The habit of lying is instinctive to me and my habitual first recourse, but I feel an ... affinity ... with this strong silent Captain and the fiercely sceptical AI: and this ship offers me the possibility of escape, even sanctuary, if I can make it my .. home ... I think fast: answer the questions, but without information... "I am a fugitive. I seek sanctuary..." Friend AI's third question - whether I may attract trouble - is itself troublesome, as I surely will and my pursuers will be many and relentless: so I leave it unanswered: "I am a thief but not a criminal - having never .... yet ... been convicted of a crime..." OK, that is a bit weak and I wish I hadn't raised the thief issue again but: "and you know there is honour amongst thieves.." Fuck, why did I go and say the 'thief' word again, I need to get a grip: and anyway, what the fuck AM I trying to say? Right, I'm going with honest but I know myself too well to promise too much: let's be economical with the promises and careful with the wording: "If you let me stay, I will be loyal ... to the ship ..."

Moan at the first shallow penetration, luxuriating in the feel of it, shivering in anticipation of what is to come.

The Captain looks tired: more than tired - war-weary. I recognize that look. Veterans, abandoned by society, are part of our underworld: but this is the first I have met who still holds his office - and the crushing responsibility that goes with it. There is no fooling with that far-stare of those who have seen too much: no deceit, no trickery, that they have not seen. I'm not good at honesty but sometimes it's all you can do: "Hello Captain. I'm a thief and a stowaway, but I'm desperate and I think if my friend AI helps me I can cook: and you look like you could use a good meal."

I don't think anyone's had it before, I think to myself: it's an original creation, maybe I will make it my signature dish. Then he just dumps me, unceremoniously, on the floor and leaves me to face the Captain.

I admit he is seriously cute: just scoops me up into his arms as if I am a featherweight: and with a little disappointment I note that he seems to do so without the slightest realisation of how intimate that is. An image of a bride being carried across the threshold sparks briefly in my mind and I giggle - a long time since I felt such simple uncomplicated joy. I reach up, wrapping my arms around his neck: I don't care if he notices or not, it just feels nice. Pushed neatly down inside my pants, the communicator-map nestles: I was right to think him too professional to grope me down there when he searched me. How to convince the Captain though? In my head I rehearse descriptions of cookery dishes I read about or saw through the windows of restaurants. "Do you like Steak Flambee?"

I left before you replied: I didn't know I had to make that explicit. And I don't want to ruin things for other people, I just wanted to have fun and get involved. I think it's best for me to leave it to experienced role players.

I will stay out if it until I have learnt more about the rules, sorry.

I am really sorry, I did not realise the scene was continuing. I am new to this: perhaps it is better if I withdraw from this role play until I have learnt the rules. So sorry.

If Roc and the Captain decide that is a good use for the amazing talent at cooking that I can describe in flamboyant and tasyt detail, then yes.

My stolen (and well concealed..) mapping device doesn't show new rooms...

My Steak Flambee is a legend in its own lunchtime already.

The Vessel The vessel hoves into view: I think the word 'hoves' applies because that is what vessels do, isn't it? And this is certainly a vessel: more than a boat, not quite a ship - a vessel, for carrying ... something. And hoves definitely describes what it does: I don't know the etymology of hoves but it sounds like a sort of twisted past that is somehow still happening: "Heave to!" would be the order, which when completed would result in the vessel being 'hove to' so that 'hoves' would be sort of a present tense for a sort of past. Anyway, the vessel has something ancient about it, and its arrival is a sort of quiet heaving that leaves it quietly riding the soft small swell as the end of the derelict quay. I have seen replicas of old ships - sailing ships, cutters, schooners - and this one has something of all of them but is not quite any. Masts, yes, but only a single sail on the foremast, slack now: a high castle at the stern, a wooden prow - and old, yes, very very old. Out of place too: this quay has been derelict as long as I have known it and by anecdote for decades or more before that. The mist is unusual here too: perhaps that is why the vessel hove out of the mist and into view. And the mist was not here before the vessel: otherwise I would not have been reclining, idly, my feet dangling in the water, at the end of the quay wearing a bikini. There is no-one on the vessel: it just glided - hove - silently, but with calm quiet perfect control, to the quay and then held its station there, waiting. It's mysterious. A bit frightening too, if I am honest. But mystery trumps fear any time, doesn't it, or life would be safe but dull. It is indeed empty: or rather, devoid of life. But people were here, of that there is evidence: a meal on the mess room table, half eaten; clothes neatly stowed by the bunks below decks; an open chart book in what must be the captian's cabin, compasses open and laid carefully on it; a log book open - and its ink still damp. "We see another: this one in white, on the quay. None dare to look, lest the fever take us again: yet we must look, because we cannot resist. Pray only that this not b ethe end of us." I flip back: pages of carefull neat script. And here, a sketch -a drawing - like a mermaid, perched on a rock: naked, half reclining, her tail dangling in the water. "Gregor was lost to the Siren: the mad lust took him, and nearly overtook the rest of us. We left him with her: may God preserve his soul." A faint scratching sound. I turn the pages, flip back to the last. The ink is smudged, fresh. A drawing: I do not recall it's being there when I looked before. A mermaid, perched on a wooden quay, her tail dangling in the water. No, not a mermaid, and not a tail: her feet dangle in the water. And not naked, as was the other: sketched on her body are a covering of her breasts - a bra, I would say, were this not apperantly an ancient text; or a bikini top. And matching bikini bottoms, too. Not as voluptuous as the other mermaid, either: nor with such long luscious hair - in fact hair cropped short, like mine. I twist the page, inspect from different angles. A good likeness, if I di dnot know better, of myself, p;erched at the end of the quay as I was just minutes ago. Strange, Mysterious. That scratching again. These words were surely not here earlier? "She has boarded the ship. We are lost: the mad lust is already upon us, with intensity such that none of us may resist its call." Up above, on deck, I hear sounds - voices. I climb the steps: a small petite figure, hair cropped short, in my white bikini. On deck the crew surround me, the mad lust in their eyes. There is no escape....

You may have noticed, @Busterbugs, that I am making a clumsy attempt to be promoted from inept stowaway to probably incompetent Chef...

Go on then, I'm all ears

Right, so that didn't go well... Not the first time I've been groped all over but at least he was professional about it - and under all that body armour I imagine he is cute enough to be worth being groped by. Friend AI being totally absent probably doesn't matter anyway: this guy probably wouldn't believe his own mother without objective proof. Time for a creative lie - and some endearing sorrowful tears: "I.. oh .... I was ..." Think, girl, think .... "I was ... I just ... my family ... my poor family ... the world... the alien world...." What the fuck was the name of that world we called at, anyway? No problem, I'll wing it: "the world.. enslaved.. all of us .. my poor dear sister... all dead..." Cue gasping sobs: ""They told me to run ... 'Save yourself' they said: 'Save yourself, leave use there is nonviolence us" More sobbing, mainly to give myself time to rescue this clusterfuck of a story: "I ran... the hatch was open.." Does this ship even have a hatch? "I ... I only just made it... I ... I knocked myself Lutz that's why I couldn't contribute Captain straight away..." Quick thinking there girl, I congratulate myself, but time.to.turn up the emotion, he's not buying it: "Oh please, Sir, please, I am just an innocent poor orphan girl, I sought escape from the..." Who were those aliens anyway? "..from Them.. those ... things.... I am weak.. I only sought safety, Sir ... protection" I think of the kitchen, all the goodies it holds: and devoid of staff. The way to a soldier's heart is through his stomach, so they says and I can't stowaway now I'm discovered so: "I can help, sir, with the ship: I can cook..." Well the steak was cooked, wasn't it, in a way? Maybe 'cook' isn't bigging it up enough: "I am a chef.." My friend AI can help me with the cooking if this works....

"AAUGGHH! FUCK!" The stun charge being so familiar does not make it hurt less. For long moments my body shakes like a petrified zombie on repeat, the pain surging through every nerve. When I can finally turn, the bastard is ready to fire again. "For fuck's sake, is 'shoot first, ask questions later' the fucking motto of your kind?" I have to think fast. My friend the AI thinks I am a citizen, so just maybe there is some confusion over who is who: anyway, it's all I can come up with so it's worth a go: "Can't you see I'm busy? And this..." I wave the ... whatever it is, still sparkling spirals ... "...this ... this ... thing ... is delicate and dangerous, you could have caused an accident..." It's not going as well as I hoped - but then, it never does, and I'm still here despite that so... "I was just ... checking ... it.. with my friend the AI..." and I gesture, with some desperation, at the depressingly still blank screen.

This is ... interesting .... like a treasure trove of weird weapons and armour and ... ooh this looks nice, shame to leave it here. Why they build a room with such heavy locking doors and just leave the ventilation shafts with loose covers I will never understand. OK ... weapons, weapons, weapons ... enough to fight a small war - which to be honest they are pretty much doing - no use to me though. But what's this? A communicator, yes, but ... ooh, look, a nice map of the whole ship... this will come in handy for sure. Oh and THIS looks AMAZING: wow, such pretty glittery sparkling spirals of sparks, looks like a pretty cutting tool - could come in handy - best to check though? Time to ask my new artificially intelligent but not very bright friend: "AI, what is this?"

The ventilation shaft cover here is loose: someone has been careless, and I am not alone - not unusual really, given the size of these alien ships and the labyrinthine network of ,maintenance and ventilation shafts and tunnels, but a warning to be cautious. Nothing to see here, though: so back into the shafts I go, taking care to close the cover behind me.