The Misadventures of the T'Kasi Orion
Apr 5, 2015 20:24:46 GMT -5
torvus, ntsheep, and 1 more like this
Post by topper4125 on Apr 5, 2015 20:24:46 GMT -5
Typed completely on a cheap phone... sorry ahead of times for any grammar/spelling errors...
"We have new radar contact, Captain"
"Where... Here? This is the very definition of deep space, its the very edge of the quadrent! There is so much 'nothing' here, I don't even think 'here' has a name!"
"Well sir, 'Here' is Sector -10, 12, and 'She' has been identified as a Standard Pirate Gunnar, apparently operating for Cadar Syndicate. She has locked on, turned to, and is hailing us."
*The overhead comes to life mid sentence*
...engines now, lower sheilds, and prepare to be boarded!
*Typical one trick pony. Time to turn on the Charm*
"This is Captain Makisk of the trade vessle T'Kasi Orion, we are on a mission of mercy running basic necessities to..."
"If you're a simple trade vessle, then I'm the surpreme leader of the Cadar Underground! No one runs this sector unless they are hiding from someone! AND... If you're going to lie to me about who you even are, try to avoid using names of dead planets."
*Dang, he's heard of it*
"Sir, their weapons have come online, they are firing."
Every member of the bridge, as well as the crew of the entire ship, is shaken, and the ship rocks to stedy itself as the attack hits us.
"Sir, The first blasts rattled our ship, but the shields have held."
"Kill Comms! We have no trade permit with Cadar, he knows that... What civilized, and militarized planet are we closest too?"
"Rychart Prime sector -3, 8, but we have no permit or commision with them either."
"Well, Mr. Supreme Leader doesn't know that... GO!"
The engines of the T'Kasi Orion come to life.
"Harris, Where's that political officer we picked up three days ago?"
My First Mate replies "I'm sure she's in the quarters we assigned her, but I don't know what use she'll be, she swore she would never work with smugglers like us."
"Get her, lets see if she's changed her mind now that we, she, and this ship are all under attack. Helm, what's our status?"
"Our initial burst got us out of gun and torpedo range, but they are a faster ship, they will catch us before reaching any planet we have alliances with, or even Rychart Prime... who won't care if we live or die."
"Keep going. Comm, I need you to establish a secure connection with the Officer Militant on the military base on Rychart, tell whoever you get ahold of... whatever you need to say... just make it happen."
"I'll try sir."
The bridge doors open, and a very scared looking Political Officer walks in holding onto the arm of the security sentry that assisted Harris in retreiving her. The ship gets jolted forward as a blast from the Pirate Gunnar weakens the shields once more.
"Captain, we can't take much more of this! Decks 1, 2, and 4 are reporting damage!"
"What about Deck 3?"
"Deck 3 comms and sensors are down, but I'm sure they are having a lovely time."
"Keep Running to Rychart, Comms, how's your progress?"
*I signal the security officer to have the Political Officer sit in the seat of the First Mate, right next to me.*
"Nothing yet, I've contacted the Ship Yards, they are asking for authorization credentials."
"What's your name?" I ask our guest, as if I don't have a care in the world.
"Kelly. Are we going to die?" Tears filling her eyes.
"Do you prefer Miss 'Are-we-going-to-die', or will Kelly suffice?" I reply, with a playful grin.
"Jokes? I don't think we are in a position for jokes... do you?!"
"That's the spirit, Kelly, you said 'WE', and right now, that is exactly, the kind of thinking I need from everyone on board, even you, Kelly... because you, my dear, can save this ship, and in turn, save us. If you refuse,*WE* will die, and by WE, I am, most certainly, including you."
I pull up the First Mates console which includes a standard comm link that has access to all low level, non-secure Gov't comm systems. Its the system used to request planetary access to land on setteled planets, and state reasons to land, like trade, refuel, request repairs... even a simple holiday.
Luckly, our Mates Conn can also access a VERY IMPORTANT feature, that's only to be used by commisioned ships, and trained officials: it can gain access to relativily non secure servers for modifying political affiliation; adjust recorded trust levels, and verify, create, and delete Trade Permits. Its an action that is ONLY able to be preformed by Palace Guards, Military Leaders, and thankfully, terrified and non-terrified Political Officers, if they have access codes.
"All I need, Kelly, is a forged Trade Permit with Rychart. I'm not asking for a hack into the central database, which I know can only be done with hardwired comms, I'm not asking for a commission, which requires ceremony. I'm not asking for a pardon, which you wouldn't have the knowledge or authority to issue... just a simple, non threatening, probably a million of them out there already forged trade permit, issued by Prince Talfra Rychart, who has given out so many real ones in his long life, he can't possibly remember who does and does not have one."
"... and if I don't?" Apparently forgetting for a moment that the Syndicate is on our tail trying to kill us, and I guess she is hoping to get off this ship alive with enough credibility to land a safe desk job in some palace somewhere posh.
I slide the First Mate console right in front of her as I explain "If you don't, I might as well order an all stop to the engines, because running will be a waste of time."
She begins typing, hitting delete and backspace more than any other keys, she's obviously scared, but I can't tell if its the fear of dying, or of getting caught forging a trade permit. I stand to give her the room she needs, and a false sense of privacy she wants as she enteres access codes into the system on a machine that records every keystroke... just in case.
"Comm, Status!"
"Progress sir, I've made contact with the base, they are getting me in touch with the Militant as soon as they find him... what should I say?"
"I'll talk to him... Kelly, how are you doing?"
"Shhh... I've never done this!"
"YOU'VE NEVER CREATED A TRADE PERMIT?!"
"Not while being attacked, not illegally, and not under protest!... Now Shhh!"
"Helm?"
"She's gaining, we're loosing, the shelds are failing, sir! The Gunnar in right on our tail."
"What's in our aft exterior cargo holds?"
"About half our water-fuel, and the entire load of spice we are taking to Aro"
"Jetison them, make an obstical course."
"The Gunnar is not going to even notice the Water-Fuel and the Spice, sir. its a..."
"The Aft Holds themselves! Eject the actual holds! That will slow them down. We only need a few minutes, if this works."
"Captain... you're name?" Asks Kelly
"Topper, Topper McNally"
"Seriously?"
"Its worked for years, they probably have a warrent with that name on it somewhere."
Shaking her head, she goes back to clicking on her keyboard.
"Sir, the Officer Militant of Rychart Prime is on secure comms two."
*Out of time*
"Open Secure Two!"
"Sir!"
"Who am I speaking to" a gruffeled voice that demands attention wails over the intercom.
"I am the Captain of the T'Kasi Orion. We are currently located in sector -10, 12, and are in immediate need of any assitance you may be able to provide us."
"No ship of ours would bear a name like that, how are you affiliated with us?"
*I look at Kelly, who is violently typing away, and shaking her head 'no'*
"I'm a independant contractor sir, and I..."
"You mean a Smuggler!" His voice is now agitated.
"I don't like to use that phrase." Pitching my voice to try to change the direction of this conversation, knowing already that it won't.
"There is no other word for the work you do. Your kind makes my life a living nightmare. Every layer of security we developed in the last 8 years has been to keep smugglers out. Pirates are one trick ponies, and we have them tamed pretty well, but you and your kind..."
"I've always wondered what the "Trick" is that every pony seems to know, but aside from that, lets just say I'm a private sector product relocation specialist, but the prob..."
"You don't have any problems that I need to concern myself with, this entire conversation has been a waste of my time, and I am missing my lun..."
"Your problem is that your base is short of weapons!" I yell, then whisper "sir".
"How would you possibly know that Smuggler?" The change in his tone even scares me.
Kelly, pulls at my sleeve and gives me a positive nod.
I take a deep breath, and hit the Militant with both barrels:
"Because Prince Talfra Rychart personally commisioned me to deliver 54 holds of Arms directly to your base this afternoon, no one was informed of this order in fear that pirates may try to conficate it, which is EXACTLY what is happening as we speak! The name is Cap't McNally, all you'll find for records of 'Topper McNally' is a Trade Permit, and a fake, old warrent to make the appearance of my association with Rychart seem "a 'lil distant", as the Prince put it."
*Okay... maybe that was a tad too much, but if it adds a bit of disbelief to an old warrent, no harm, no foul.*
Kelly's Eyes, Jaw, and hopes of a successful carreer drop to the floor, as the Millitant reviews his database for the name Topper McNally.
"My ship is a runner, sir, but we've had a bit of bad luck with this commision, our sails are damaged, our water-fuel is low, our engines are strained, and this Gunnar on our tail is armed to the teeth, and gaining.... "
"Secure 2 is dead sir!"
I spin to face the comms officer, dumbstruck: "Did we loose comms? were we hit?"
"No sir, he disconnected"
I turn to Kelly "Did the permit submission fail?"
*Silence*
"Can you check the warrent? Is it worse than I remembered?"
I've been staying away from Rychart for so long now, I can't even remember if a warrent even exists. All I know for sure is that I owe a guy named Rico on Rychart Prime a LOT of money, and a ship... but that's a different story.
*More silence from Kelly*
"Is there anyway you can..."
"YOU'RE A FREAKING WEAPONS DEALER!! I JUST THREW MY ENTIRE CARREER AWAY FOR A DANG WEAPONS DEALER???!" Tears filling her eyes.
"Whoa, lady... watch the harsh language! Weapons dealer? whatever gave you that idea?"
*She collapses into the First Mates Chair in shock, too upset to do anything... even blinking seems like a labored task.*
"Helm... anything?"
"Cap't, you better find a way to make this guy happy, because running ain't working"
"Comms, Open Broadcast One; Helm, all stop, turn to the Gunnar, all shields forward and full."
"To the Cadar Pirate Captain... we surrender."
*Silence*
*More Silence*
Well, this is a good thing, they haven't blown us out of the void just yet.
"Sir, the Gunnar has reversed engines, and is turning away!"
Kelly: "What?"
Harris: "What?"
Me: "What?!"
"We have new radar contact, Captain."
"Identifying 3 ships, two Rychart Templars, and their Flagship, The Pride.
"They are targeting the Gunnar, and have disabled it! They are hailing us on Comm one!"
"Open One" I mutter in complete disbelief.
"To the captain of the T'Kasi Orion, you are instructed to head directly to Sector -3,8 to meet with the Officer Militant on the base at Rychart Prime. We will deal with the Gunnar who has been delaying you."
*Dumbstruck*
"Uhhh... Ya... thanks! Close Comms"
"Helm, set a course for -3, 8"
"Sir, I..."
"-3, 8... just like the guy with the big gun said!"
"Kelly, erase all traces of that trade permit, we don't need any proof of your wrong-doing being left on Rychart Servers."
*Like a drone, she reacts, still shoked by the events, saying nothing, just typing.*
I turn to Harris "Did you see the size of that cannon? it was bigger than our ship!"
*The engines come to life again*
"Sir, about Rychart... we can't..."
"And we won't, Helms... when we are out of Radar Range, change course to 2, 9 head directly for the wilds of the planet Ulzsc-Makisk."
*A grin flashes over the crewmans face* "Oh, that's where Makisk, came from... ya that really wasn't a good one..."
"I panicked.. what can I say. Speaking of panic..." I sit in my chair next to a very dumbstruck political officer.
She speaks "You're NOT running weapons to Rychart?"
"I don't run weapons period... leaves too much of a foot print."
"What about all that stuff you told him?"
"I needed a hero, he needed a reason to be one. Every military officer I have ever known thinks they are short on weapons, I played him, he will realize eventually, but for now... everything's golden."
"Just what are we hauling, that was worth risking our lives??" she asks, sounding like the answer that is floating in her mind might be more terrifying than the idea that she just bailed out a weapons trader.
"Ahh... there's those words again... 'We' and 'our', sounds great doesn't it?"
Its obvoius to me that Kelly really isn't in the mood for more word games, nor wants to listen to me try to sell her the idea of becoming a member of our crew; something I really could use. Political experts are hard to come by in my line of work.
Time to be honest.
"The only lie I told the Pirate Gunner was my name. We *are* taking food and clothing to some refugees hiding on Makisk. 'We' are the only ones that know they are there. Without 'us', they die, THAT is the important part, not the cargo... their survival depends on ours. Oh, and... 'we' are also carrying this."
I pull a secure datapad out of my pocket, feeling like she has earned a complete answer to her question.
"What is that?" Her eyes wide.
"Dunno. *THAT* is the 871,000 Credit question of the day, that is how much I'm getting paid to hold it" I nod to Harris, who takes Kelly by the arm, and brings her to her feet.
"Hold it? You're not delivering it to someone."
"Nope, just keeping it safe."
"For who?"
"Get some sleep, Kelly. I have a feeling that Makisk is going to make today seem rather dull. "
"Wait..." Still trying to continue this conversation as Harris escorts her off the bridge, "What's your real name?"
"... and that..." I answer with a grin, "is a story for another time."
"We have new radar contact, Captain"
"Where... Here? This is the very definition of deep space, its the very edge of the quadrent! There is so much 'nothing' here, I don't even think 'here' has a name!"
"Well sir, 'Here' is Sector -10, 12, and 'She' has been identified as a Standard Pirate Gunnar, apparently operating for Cadar Syndicate. She has locked on, turned to, and is hailing us."
*The overhead comes to life mid sentence*
...engines now, lower sheilds, and prepare to be boarded!
*Typical one trick pony. Time to turn on the Charm*
"This is Captain Makisk of the trade vessle T'Kasi Orion, we are on a mission of mercy running basic necessities to..."
"If you're a simple trade vessle, then I'm the surpreme leader of the Cadar Underground! No one runs this sector unless they are hiding from someone! AND... If you're going to lie to me about who you even are, try to avoid using names of dead planets."
*Dang, he's heard of it*
"Sir, their weapons have come online, they are firing."
Every member of the bridge, as well as the crew of the entire ship, is shaken, and the ship rocks to stedy itself as the attack hits us.
"Sir, The first blasts rattled our ship, but the shields have held."
"Kill Comms! We have no trade permit with Cadar, he knows that... What civilized, and militarized planet are we closest too?"
"Rychart Prime sector -3, 8, but we have no permit or commision with them either."
"Well, Mr. Supreme Leader doesn't know that... GO!"
The engines of the T'Kasi Orion come to life.
"Harris, Where's that political officer we picked up three days ago?"
My First Mate replies "I'm sure she's in the quarters we assigned her, but I don't know what use she'll be, she swore she would never work with smugglers like us."
"Get her, lets see if she's changed her mind now that we, she, and this ship are all under attack. Helm, what's our status?"
"Our initial burst got us out of gun and torpedo range, but they are a faster ship, they will catch us before reaching any planet we have alliances with, or even Rychart Prime... who won't care if we live or die."
"Keep going. Comm, I need you to establish a secure connection with the Officer Militant on the military base on Rychart, tell whoever you get ahold of... whatever you need to say... just make it happen."
"I'll try sir."
The bridge doors open, and a very scared looking Political Officer walks in holding onto the arm of the security sentry that assisted Harris in retreiving her. The ship gets jolted forward as a blast from the Pirate Gunnar weakens the shields once more.
"Captain, we can't take much more of this! Decks 1, 2, and 4 are reporting damage!"
"What about Deck 3?"
"Deck 3 comms and sensors are down, but I'm sure they are having a lovely time."
"Keep Running to Rychart, Comms, how's your progress?"
*I signal the security officer to have the Political Officer sit in the seat of the First Mate, right next to me.*
"Nothing yet, I've contacted the Ship Yards, they are asking for authorization credentials."
"What's your name?" I ask our guest, as if I don't have a care in the world.
"Kelly. Are we going to die?" Tears filling her eyes.
"Do you prefer Miss 'Are-we-going-to-die', or will Kelly suffice?" I reply, with a playful grin.
"Jokes? I don't think we are in a position for jokes... do you?!"
"That's the spirit, Kelly, you said 'WE', and right now, that is exactly, the kind of thinking I need from everyone on board, even you, Kelly... because you, my dear, can save this ship, and in turn, save us. If you refuse,*WE* will die, and by WE, I am, most certainly, including you."
I pull up the First Mates console which includes a standard comm link that has access to all low level, non-secure Gov't comm systems. Its the system used to request planetary access to land on setteled planets, and state reasons to land, like trade, refuel, request repairs... even a simple holiday.
Luckly, our Mates Conn can also access a VERY IMPORTANT feature, that's only to be used by commisioned ships, and trained officials: it can gain access to relativily non secure servers for modifying political affiliation; adjust recorded trust levels, and verify, create, and delete Trade Permits. Its an action that is ONLY able to be preformed by Palace Guards, Military Leaders, and thankfully, terrified and non-terrified Political Officers, if they have access codes.
"All I need, Kelly, is a forged Trade Permit with Rychart. I'm not asking for a hack into the central database, which I know can only be done with hardwired comms, I'm not asking for a commission, which requires ceremony. I'm not asking for a pardon, which you wouldn't have the knowledge or authority to issue... just a simple, non threatening, probably a million of them out there already forged trade permit, issued by Prince Talfra Rychart, who has given out so many real ones in his long life, he can't possibly remember who does and does not have one."
"... and if I don't?" Apparently forgetting for a moment that the Syndicate is on our tail trying to kill us, and I guess she is hoping to get off this ship alive with enough credibility to land a safe desk job in some palace somewhere posh.
I slide the First Mate console right in front of her as I explain "If you don't, I might as well order an all stop to the engines, because running will be a waste of time."
She begins typing, hitting delete and backspace more than any other keys, she's obviously scared, but I can't tell if its the fear of dying, or of getting caught forging a trade permit. I stand to give her the room she needs, and a false sense of privacy she wants as she enteres access codes into the system on a machine that records every keystroke... just in case.
"Comm, Status!"
"Progress sir, I've made contact with the base, they are getting me in touch with the Militant as soon as they find him... what should I say?"
"I'll talk to him... Kelly, how are you doing?"
"Shhh... I've never done this!"
"YOU'VE NEVER CREATED A TRADE PERMIT?!"
"Not while being attacked, not illegally, and not under protest!... Now Shhh!"
"Helm?"
"She's gaining, we're loosing, the shelds are failing, sir! The Gunnar in right on our tail."
"What's in our aft exterior cargo holds?"
"About half our water-fuel, and the entire load of spice we are taking to Aro"
"Jetison them, make an obstical course."
"The Gunnar is not going to even notice the Water-Fuel and the Spice, sir. its a..."
"The Aft Holds themselves! Eject the actual holds! That will slow them down. We only need a few minutes, if this works."
"Captain... you're name?" Asks Kelly
"Topper, Topper McNally"
"Seriously?"
"Its worked for years, they probably have a warrent with that name on it somewhere."
Shaking her head, she goes back to clicking on her keyboard.
"Sir, the Officer Militant of Rychart Prime is on secure comms two."
*Out of time*
"Open Secure Two!"
"Sir!"
"Who am I speaking to" a gruffeled voice that demands attention wails over the intercom.
"I am the Captain of the T'Kasi Orion. We are currently located in sector -10, 12, and are in immediate need of any assitance you may be able to provide us."
"No ship of ours would bear a name like that, how are you affiliated with us?"
*I look at Kelly, who is violently typing away, and shaking her head 'no'*
"I'm a independant contractor sir, and I..."
"You mean a Smuggler!" His voice is now agitated.
"I don't like to use that phrase." Pitching my voice to try to change the direction of this conversation, knowing already that it won't.
"There is no other word for the work you do. Your kind makes my life a living nightmare. Every layer of security we developed in the last 8 years has been to keep smugglers out. Pirates are one trick ponies, and we have them tamed pretty well, but you and your kind..."
"I've always wondered what the "Trick" is that every pony seems to know, but aside from that, lets just say I'm a private sector product relocation specialist, but the prob..."
"You don't have any problems that I need to concern myself with, this entire conversation has been a waste of my time, and I am missing my lun..."
"Your problem is that your base is short of weapons!" I yell, then whisper "sir".
"How would you possibly know that Smuggler?" The change in his tone even scares me.
Kelly, pulls at my sleeve and gives me a positive nod.
I take a deep breath, and hit the Militant with both barrels:
"Because Prince Talfra Rychart personally commisioned me to deliver 54 holds of Arms directly to your base this afternoon, no one was informed of this order in fear that pirates may try to conficate it, which is EXACTLY what is happening as we speak! The name is Cap't McNally, all you'll find for records of 'Topper McNally' is a Trade Permit, and a fake, old warrent to make the appearance of my association with Rychart seem "a 'lil distant", as the Prince put it."
*Okay... maybe that was a tad too much, but if it adds a bit of disbelief to an old warrent, no harm, no foul.*
Kelly's Eyes, Jaw, and hopes of a successful carreer drop to the floor, as the Millitant reviews his database for the name Topper McNally.
"My ship is a runner, sir, but we've had a bit of bad luck with this commision, our sails are damaged, our water-fuel is low, our engines are strained, and this Gunnar on our tail is armed to the teeth, and gaining.... "
"Secure 2 is dead sir!"
I spin to face the comms officer, dumbstruck: "Did we loose comms? were we hit?"
"No sir, he disconnected"
I turn to Kelly "Did the permit submission fail?"
*Silence*
"Can you check the warrent? Is it worse than I remembered?"
I've been staying away from Rychart for so long now, I can't even remember if a warrent even exists. All I know for sure is that I owe a guy named Rico on Rychart Prime a LOT of money, and a ship... but that's a different story.
*More silence from Kelly*
"Is there anyway you can..."
"YOU'RE A FREAKING WEAPONS DEALER!! I JUST THREW MY ENTIRE CARREER AWAY FOR A DANG WEAPONS DEALER???!" Tears filling her eyes.
"Whoa, lady... watch the harsh language! Weapons dealer? whatever gave you that idea?"
*She collapses into the First Mates Chair in shock, too upset to do anything... even blinking seems like a labored task.*
"Helm... anything?"
"Cap't, you better find a way to make this guy happy, because running ain't working"
"Comms, Open Broadcast One; Helm, all stop, turn to the Gunnar, all shields forward and full."
"To the Cadar Pirate Captain... we surrender."
*Silence*
*More Silence*
Well, this is a good thing, they haven't blown us out of the void just yet.
"Sir, the Gunnar has reversed engines, and is turning away!"
Kelly: "What?"
Harris: "What?"
Me: "What?!"
"We have new radar contact, Captain."
"Identifying 3 ships, two Rychart Templars, and their Flagship, The Pride.
"They are targeting the Gunnar, and have disabled it! They are hailing us on Comm one!"
"Open One" I mutter in complete disbelief.
"To the captain of the T'Kasi Orion, you are instructed to head directly to Sector -3,8 to meet with the Officer Militant on the base at Rychart Prime. We will deal with the Gunnar who has been delaying you."
*Dumbstruck*
"Uhhh... Ya... thanks! Close Comms"
"Helm, set a course for -3, 8"
"Sir, I..."
"-3, 8... just like the guy with the big gun said!"
"Kelly, erase all traces of that trade permit, we don't need any proof of your wrong-doing being left on Rychart Servers."
*Like a drone, she reacts, still shoked by the events, saying nothing, just typing.*
I turn to Harris "Did you see the size of that cannon? it was bigger than our ship!"
*The engines come to life again*
"Sir, about Rychart... we can't..."
"And we won't, Helms... when we are out of Radar Range, change course to 2, 9 head directly for the wilds of the planet Ulzsc-Makisk."
*A grin flashes over the crewmans face* "Oh, that's where Makisk, came from... ya that really wasn't a good one..."
"I panicked.. what can I say. Speaking of panic..." I sit in my chair next to a very dumbstruck political officer.
She speaks "You're NOT running weapons to Rychart?"
"I don't run weapons period... leaves too much of a foot print."
"What about all that stuff you told him?"
"I needed a hero, he needed a reason to be one. Every military officer I have ever known thinks they are short on weapons, I played him, he will realize eventually, but for now... everything's golden."
"Just what are we hauling, that was worth risking our lives??" she asks, sounding like the answer that is floating in her mind might be more terrifying than the idea that she just bailed out a weapons trader.
"Ahh... there's those words again... 'We' and 'our', sounds great doesn't it?"
Its obvoius to me that Kelly really isn't in the mood for more word games, nor wants to listen to me try to sell her the idea of becoming a member of our crew; something I really could use. Political experts are hard to come by in my line of work.
Time to be honest.
"The only lie I told the Pirate Gunner was my name. We *are* taking food and clothing to some refugees hiding on Makisk. 'We' are the only ones that know they are there. Without 'us', they die, THAT is the important part, not the cargo... their survival depends on ours. Oh, and... 'we' are also carrying this."
I pull a secure datapad out of my pocket, feeling like she has earned a complete answer to her question.
"What is that?" Her eyes wide.
"Dunno. *THAT* is the 871,000 Credit question of the day, that is how much I'm getting paid to hold it" I nod to Harris, who takes Kelly by the arm, and brings her to her feet.
"Hold it? You're not delivering it to someone."
"Nope, just keeping it safe."
"For who?"
"Get some sleep, Kelly. I have a feeling that Makisk is going to make today seem rather dull. "
"Wait..." Still trying to continue this conversation as Harris escorts her off the bridge, "What's your real name?"
"... and that..." I answer with a grin, "is a story for another time."