The Ragged They Come

[Barton Henning]

“Cleo..”

Barton let the name settle in his mouth for a moment, then nodded.

“What do you do, Cleo? Everyone aboard this ship earns their way somehow.”

Here, Henning's eyes drifted to Atton for a moment. Kira wasn't exactly a member of the crew, but his presence wasn't going to be a constant forever. In all likelihood, he would disembark once they were docked and registered with the convoy. There was no reason the girl couldn't do the same.

[Ben Merasska]

The comm chirped. Ben sighed with dismay, but knew that their hosts would not like a guest that didn’t answer the comm when staying with them. He continued to not notice that the ship-board comm was still on, and that everyone could hear him, and perhaps the voice of the operator from the Wheel as well.

“Supply Corps freighter Knightfall, code number...” he rattled off a series of numbers and letters interspersed with dashes, “this is pilot Ben Merasska, age twenty-seven, single, speaking. How may I help you?”

“Supply Corps freighter Knightfall. Welcome to the Wheel. Broadcast your manifest, along with a list of crew.” A woman’s voice, which was very attractive sounding indeed, emanated from the speakers. She sounded as if she didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed.

“Why I most certainly can do that. Bringing up the manifest now. By the way, what’s your name?”

The woman now almost sounded amused. “Please follow protocol, pilot Merasska.”

“But I am,” Ben defended, enjoying the burgeoning back and forth. “In polite conversation, it’s always protocol to ask someone’s name. Look in any book of etiquette. You’ll find it.”

Now the woman sounded half amused, half annoyed. “Giving of an operator’s name is not part of military protocol concerning this situation. Etiquette is not as important as safety. And I doubt that you’ve read a book of etiquette, pilot Merasska.”

“Please, call me Ben,” Ben replied, leaning back in his seat. The manifest was now ready to be sent. He lackadaisically went through the motions of getting it ready to be sent. “And that’s a steep little judgement there, missy. All you know is my name, while I still don’t know yours – a little rude, wouldn’t you say? And who’s to say I haven’t had need of a book of etiquette before?”

“The manifest, pilot Merasska?”

“I’m also willing to bet that the military protocol doesn’t say anything about friendly chats occurring while this process is taking place. Go ahead, look it up. I can wait; and please, call me Ben. Sending the manifest now.”

Ben didn’t hear anything for a moment.

“Manifest received.” There was a pause, while numerous voices could be heard in the background, reading out of a book of military protocol. There was the sound of laughter and loud voices.

“Well?” He asked. “How’s about we start over? Hi, I’m Ben Merasska. What’s your name?”

More laughter. “Hello, Ben Merasska. I am Tesla Kiner.”

Ben grinned. The woman sounded a bit reluctant and annoyed.

“Why hello, Tesla – pretty name, by the way – I’m sending the crew list right now. Would you like to be friends?”

[Lyanie Quez]

If the sound of Ben's song caused her to hum and sing along in the engine room as if it were infectious, the commentary when the Valiant hailed him for the manifest had her clapping a hand or two over her mouth so as not to laugh too hard. Ben Merasska was always a hoot. As she could recall, you could sock him in the nose and he might still make a farce out of it. You had to have a sense of humour about you to make it without killing yourself in this life.

As Ben chatted, Lyanie listened and continued about her work, making the finishing touches on her travail in the engine room as they were soon to dock with the Wheel. Underneath the voiceover of Ben's conversation, Lyanie realized she hadn't seen or really heard anyone else for a while. This was when she poked her head out of the engine room and tried to listen for anything else. She thought she heard something and it was enough to draw her out of the engine room and down one corridor, taking the necessary route to follow the other sounds, which increased. She heard the Chief, the 'doctor' and another woman, who was decidedly not that Chaz girl, for the simple fact that no-one she could think of, know or have met would have such an accent as she was hearing in increasing volume the closer she crept to the cargo hold.

Staying a good metre, two metres from where Atton and Barton stood, she could see the unfamiliar girl and came to her own conclusions: she looked sweet, adorable and friendly. Lyanie stayed quiet, her attention divided between what went on in front of her and the continued comical commentary from Ben, a smile on her face, knowing full well she could not possibly resist the urge to wave hello if Cleo were to spot her.

[Cleo Némain]

Her mouth opened, fully ready to give a fancy way of saying she had no idea what it was that a Cleo was supposed to do on a ship, since all she was good at doing was pickpocketing and occasionally rigging up a droid to have a different color of pretty lights on it than what it came with in a standard sense. She was real good at running too, and scrambling up the sides of buildings and tumbling off of them without hurting herself in the least bit. But space didn't really have buildings for one to have a good runabout on.

Yep, she was about to answer... when that singsongy man's voice came back with some other lady and they were on about manifests and crew and since they were talking (though she couldn't see them) it was only polite for her to shush again. The others looked just as bewildered (or was it annoyed?) as the conversation went on.

It was then that Cleo saw the other girl peeking in and smiling and generally looking far more happy to see her than the two men. She raised her hand from her side just slightly, bent at the elbow so all in all it came to barely just above her hip... and wiggled her fingers.

After the little wave was given the voice of singy guy came enough to a stop again that she snapped her attention back at the grumpy guy.

"I... I canna.... I kin help. Lotsa ways. Evy' ship needs a busybody... a go-ta kinna pers'n... Help cook, clean uppin, fixin stuff..."

She was rambling, but it felt kinda good to ramble, she'd stop when they made her. She hoped they'd make her. Or at least ask nicely.