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Liza Grier	You are here, on Veleres (no sci-fi numbers, astoundingly), for one of two reasons.     You are here because of the recent collapse of the planet's only notable inhabited zone --a work arcology built and operated by Aporian Heavy Industry, set up as a prospecting and development base for rare earth material resources, and a franchising base for the satellite habitates operated by corporations in related industries that paid the leasing fee-- after two years of financial decline, persistent technical error, workplace accidents, and massive unrest amongst the contracted workers depending on the company's timely maintenance to actually live there.     The place was practically written off as a sinkhole even before Aporian's management AI mysteriously hiccuped and the magic of the market meant that it defaulted on half the company's holdings, immediately costing the company billions of credits. Now, nobody legally owns it, and requests for intervention and aid have been sent by the workers through remaining interstellar communications channels, before the satellite companies gobble it up in a bloody turf war. You're flown in on a former Aporian owned executive shuttle that is now technically an unlisted asset with no owner, though still flown by its previous pilot.     That, or you are here because you're in the Watch and Liza Grier invited you along, because she said she was 'checking in' for a 'surprise inspection' on a 'two year project', and she needs faces that an 'old acquaintance' won't recognize. The ride over doesn't use her ship (Liza says she'll be arriving right after you), but a chartered shuttle bringing supplies from offworld that the employees are able to afford with the combined finances still lying around.     Or, you're here because you're an asshole and you want to meddle, and found your own way in.     An orbital commercial warpgate transitions into atmospheric touchdown on an external landing pad with a retractible skylit shelter (the atmosphere is allegedly breathable, but mildly acidic, and not good for you to breathe in for more than an hour per week). 'Work habitat for land survey, resource extraction, and heavy industry' doesn't quite do justice to the vaguely conical chunk of steel and glass that could encompass an entire metropolitan downtown, bristling with helipads and comms masts, upper floor windows and lower floor drive-outs, and shot through with elevators.     Covered roads branch out from it in all directions, albeit short, theoretically walkable ones, connecting a web of smaller domes and office blocks. The main difference is their lights and signage are still ablaze with landing lights and logos, whereas the main arcology is running dim at best.
Liza Grier	The executive shuttle has its own helipad outstretched, where you are allowed to step right off into a middle management floor lobby, all polished tile, fake plants, hastily removed Aporian logos and signage, and workers moving back and forth. You're greeted by a middle-aged woman, sharp and straight-backed if work-calloused and wary, who introduces herself as "Anita Greene; either Anita or Ms. Greene is fine. I used to work as a logistics and accounting officer here. Now, we're . . ." whereupon she takes a subtly different tack. "Beg pardon, but might I ask how familiar you are with the idea of worker cooperatives?"     The cargo shuttle has no such fancy accomodation, landing in a broader hangar alongside several of its fellows, equally 'loved' with dings and scratches and burnt paint from repeated trips. Here, things are astoundingly busy for a place that has recently collapsed; so much that nobody even pays attention to you, so focused are they on moving cargo by exoskeletal hand and mechanical loader. You see imports of bulk foods, water filters, atmospheric scrubbers, fuel, steel, rubber, replacement parts, clothing, medicine, daily necessities; everything that obviously doesn't grow on trees down here.     But you also can't help but notice the unmarked or taped over cargo being carried separately. The freshly sandblasted and repainted chunks of wall. The slipshod banners and heaps of partially swept junk. The fact that nobody here is still in uniform; at least not cut up and modified to breathe under slacks and coveralls.
Wisconsin	So, does this make me the good cop or the bad cop?" The dark skinned USS Wisconsin asks her taller compatriot as they get off the shuttle. The willowy USS Yorktown sighs, and dusts off her nice crisp Eagle Union uniform, and adjusts her hat as she pushes past Wisky. "It's a valid question, Yorkie! Gosh!"     The two ships are here on the 'aid and diplomacy' mission, with the Fancy Helipad and the clipboards and tablets and the 'you scratch my back I'll get yours' crowd. It was the Union's first chance to do their always famous Diplomatic Offerings and also 'oh hey, there, people with mineral extraction needs'. For her part, Wisconsin steps over to Anita, and extends a hand. "Hiya, I'm USS Wisconsin, Eagle Union. My partner here is Yorktown, and... actually, we're quite familiar with worker coops." A cheery grin from the dusky girl, as she adjusts her khaki uniform. "It's a good way to help spread the wealth among those who are working to make their living... all in the same situation." It's all smiles and nods from the battleship.     There's also a very real sense that if this woman had her way, there'd be a chicken casserole involved in this negotiation.
Remee Halcyon	What if you're here because of Liza... but you also want to meddle? Remee's got a bit of both things going on, becoming interested recently in how Liza Grier operates, but the opportunity to join in prima facie is something that not many Watch members might get - an approach that Remee decides is validated as she sees the Concord member(s) joining her on the executive shuttle. Remee's dressed up - business formal, albeit via an outfit that still incorporates her crimson aesthetic and love for greatcoats. There's also at least three knives and guns hidden inside it, naturally. She's attended by a small staff as well, which for the most part just sort of loiter in her wake. "Miss Wisconsin of the Iowa Fleet, right?" says Remee as she offers a hand, getting it purposefully wrong as a way to invite Wisconsin to start explaining. People generally like talking about themselves. And then to Miss Greene: "Broadly familiar." She's been funding a few, secretly or overtly, since joining the Watch. "I understand that this was previously a corporate entity - how has the transition been?"
Sleek Shimmer	Last time Shimmer got up to anything in space, it didn't really end up going all that well for her. But that was then, this is now, and it's more than worth another try!     She's here with the Watch of course, although she is quite the fish out of water in this environment.     Wishing to stay out of sight for now, she departs the shuttle in her fox form and sidles up against some of the cargo crates and other obstacles as cover to move around in. Occasionally she hops up onto the smaller ones and stays low while scouting out everything around.     Eventually she heads back over to the rest of the Watch members departing from the shuttle. The little red fox, it seems, can speak. "I'm not familiar with this kind of place. But something about the way they're moving around the supplies seems odd."
Rita Ma	Rita spends most of the ride over (in the Watch cargo shuttle, naturally) sitting on the edge of a crate and dangling her legs off, either slowly picking over a sashimi lunchbox or tapping at her phone.      "Do any of you know what this is about?" she eventually asks, tapping at her lips with a metal chopstick. "I think it was a little before I joined the Watch. I didn't think to ask Ms. Grier a whole lot about it." She doesn't seem to have a whole lot of anxiety about that, though. Rita has more trust in Liza than anyone really should.      On disembarking, she projects a kind of fretful, slightly strained optimism. Her cheek rests in her hand, head tilted. "At least it's active, isn't it? It feels like it's flourishing. Even if it's a little messy." She does spare an acknowledging frown in Shimmer's direction, though: "Mmmm. Covering stuff up with sheets usually means it's bad, right? Give me a second."      Rita steps behind some crates, out of view of the various technicians (though she doesn't bother hiding from her Watch comrades), and smoothly fades into invisibility. From there, she follows the unmarked crates 'upstream' to their origin point, hoping to slip onto wherever they're being unloaded from and take a peek under one of those sheets.
Father Berislav	"It certainly is, Rita. I think, while we wait, I'll get to know a few faces and lend a hand."      Father Berislav, being here to tend to matters he considers spiritual, has naturally come in his vestments--a simple black cassock with a Roman collar. With his medium-length white hair, tied back in a ponytail, and a hint of boyish features not yet diminished with age, he looks more like someone's older brother than a man you'd call 'Father.' Stepping off of Liza's chartered shuttle with a smile, into the allegedly breathable atmosphere, he manages a soft smile despite its hostility upon his lungs. A soft 'hm' escapes him at the disparity in the state of repair between 'their' signage and that of the arcology proper.      A simple leather-bound Bible tucked under one arm, he runs his free hand across the dings and scratches of a neighboring cargo shuttle, drinking in the buzz of a busy space passively as he does. After a moment to take it all in, his smile widens.      "Excuse me," he says, free hand politely lifted palm-up in simultaneous greeting and request, to the first exosuit-user he sees in the midst of work. He falls into stride with them so as not to keep them overmuch from their work. "Could I help you out while we have a little chat? I happen to have something very much like your exosuit, and I'd hate to be idle while there's so much to be done, even if the friend I'm waiting on surely won't be long."      A silver humanoid mech, with a red cloak draped over its right shoulder and a flat, hammer-like head is called from a burning orange wound in space. Its black ribcage opens up to swallow the priest as, mid-stride, he makes an absurd vertical leap and midair twist to land nimbly in the cockpit.      For as long as it takes Liza to arrive, the workers here have extra help putting heavy cargo in its proper place. Through local frequencies, he makes a bit of small talk, mostly letting the workers lead the conversation, but through his polite chatting, attempting to casually glean information about some of the challenges faced here.
Kukuru	Although Kukuru's not part of the Watch, and she doesn't consider herself an asshole, she's certainly here to (maybe) meddle on Veleres. She's had to reread the details of her job here a few times to make sure she's got the gist of it right, but she's pretty sure it's all just some kind of misunderstanding. After all, things could have just gotten lost in the mail. Just a little mixup, she's sure. That's why, when she's flown in on that executive shuttle, she doesn't bat an eye at things being unlisted, or stuff not being marked, or even the fact that there's probably going to be a turf war over this place sooner rather than later. No, she's here to try and talk business, and she's even dressed in a smart-looking blue-gray suit and skirt combo that might even trick the unfamiliar into thinking she's a professional at this before she gets a chance to speak. What does arouse her suspicion a bit on arrival, though, is the fact that there's so much stuff that still seems to be on and fully functional even though the main arcology clearly isn't. She doesn't quite get a chance to ask about that yet, though, before Anita Greene introduces herself to the group. "He-llo, Annie~ My name's Kukuru." She greets with her usual pause and soft, mildly airheaded tone. "Ku-ku-ru. Nice to meet you~ Oh? I've never heard of that before, but it sounds nice. Is that what's happening here?" She smiles softly as she introduces herself and comments idly on the name of the concept, clearly going for a question that might help her actually understand what's going on.
Petra Soroka	Petra rides in the cargo shuttle, but she's not happy about it.     Over the course of the trip, she crafts a little nest out of a tarp to sit in, making herself comfortable while she plays on her handheld game. She's distinctly fidgety and trying to suppress it, twisting her fingers in her hair or the tarp, kicking her feet or tapping them on the ground.     "I have no idea what it's about, all I know is that Grier said it's a project, and that *Grier* said it's a project. So... I'm prepared for the worst, I guess?" Petra doesn't seem too worried about that idea, considering that she's here.     In the hangar, Petra steps out and stretches her legs, hands in the pockets of her bomber. She scans the surrounding area, watching the exosuits with a bit of interest. She's stuck wondering what she can even do to contribute, without knowing Grier's intentions with this place.     "Hey, you know, it's kind of really active here, for a place that's apparently destitute? Is it just the company that had to pull out, and the people here are still planning on staying?"     Petra's idle wonderings about the existence of people outside of a company are cut short when she sees Berislav's mech drop into existence. Her mouth drops open and her eyes widen, and completely forgetting the mission objectives, she scurries over to where he's helping unload cargo. With a couple gravitationally-dubious jumps, using containers and the Isaiah as springboards, she lands on top of a shipping container next to the Isaiah's head, staring at it with unfiltered excitement.     Petra lightly claps her hands and stomps in place while squeaking. "Oh my *god*, Father Berislav! You have a mech? And not just that, but you have a CH-I Henson model?! What the hell! I literally have a *model* of this thing! Where'd you get it?"
Father Berislav	Berislav's mech continues in its work, though his answer to Petra is given. "Oh, you do? How charming! Well..." There is a kind of serenity present in his voice wholly at odds with the answer itself.      "It belonged to the captain of a private security force, hired by a logging company to prevent their workers from building something like this, on a forest world. I visited him at his quarters in the night, explained to him the gravity of his sin, and offered him the chance to repent. He refused, so I sent him to meet Christ."
Liza Grier	Anita smiles at the shortening of her name, an unjust rarity for Kukuru. "Haha, I haven't gone by Annie in a long time. But that's fine! It's a pleasure to meet you, Kukuru, ah, Miss Halcyon, and . . . sorry, but is USS a title? Or should I stick to Wisconsin and Yorktown?"     A subtle sigh of relief slips from her chest at the relatively unanimous answer. "Oh, thank goodness. That makes this much simpler." she says, clapping her hands together in readied fashion. "I'll be honest with you then! It's been a complete shitshow." she laughs again, dry and mirthless this time. "Everyone who moved out here did so on Aporian's credit. Travel, lodging, medical care, all that, paid for in advance, with a 'non-competition' contract, stipulating that nobody is allowed to go off and change to a competitor while working on Veleres for a set period of time. Twenty years, usually." A narrow frown creases her face.     "What that really means is that once you get here, you don't leave. Once you get a look at how sh-- sub-par the habitation is, how cut-rate the benefits really are, how much corporate ignores you and welches on your contract, how unsafe it is, how little you're actually paid once the promised bonuses and promotions never come, you're legally obligated to have no other income. Nobody else will pick you up even if you breach contract. Even if you do earn independent commission, there aren't commercial shuttles that leave the planet; you have to arrange private, which costs a fortune that you aren't making."     She motions you to follow as she walks. "When the portfolio management and commodities AI went dark and the lease they were paying on this arcology fell into immediate default, most of us were quite glad for it. Actually, we'd been trying at striking and unionizing, for a long time, though we'd had only mixed success putting any pressure on corporate. We've come together, appointed executive heads from each branch --logistics, transport, survey, mining, refinery, manufacture, maintenance, medical, security, R&D-- to work out what we plan to do from here, but there are . . . complications."     "You see, our contracts aren't technically void yet. Fairly soon, the other companies that rent space here are going to send teams to carve it all up and appropriate the corpse for themselves. That means our contracts too; whoever's departments they get. They'll negotiate at a higher table, and decide how to run the place themselves. But! If we can beat them to it, organize this place to be self-sufficient, we can register ourselves as an incorporated entity and pay our own stay. After all, it's not, as if we needed Aporian itself, right? The people here did all the work. They still know how."     "That, if you're following me, would be where you come in. We've already discussed the necessity of hiring outside contractors; it's sad to say, but our provisional work council doesn't see it as realistic to deal with corporate repossession teams ourselves. We're obviously willing to discuss repayment!"
Petra Soroka	"Something like this... you mean the community here?"     Petra hops between shipping containers and cargo vessels to keep up with the Isaiah's busywork, her boots quietly clinking on the hollow metal, rather than making the expected echoing clangs. Her excitement wanes a bit when Berislav describes how he got the mech, but, actually, not that much.     "Well, that makes sense, and it's a cool story for how you found it. Does it have a name? Do you do your own repairs? Did you customize it yourself? I can tell there's been a bunch of work done on it that isn't in the base model, was that you? I've always really liked the Henson, I like how its iconic weapon is a revolver, I think they're cool."     Petra keeps pestering him, following the mech around during his work until they're interrupted.
Wisconsin	Wisconsin smiles at Anita. "Wisconsin and Yorktown are fine. They're... designations for us. Don't worry yourself too much about it though."     Yorktown takes a breath. "That all sounds very... familiar, Miss Greene. The terms among many of the companies in... this sort of business tend to be exclusionary rather than supportive of their workers. But I think we can help you out with your situation."     The white haired woman seems to be the more business minded of the duo, and she moves over towards Greene, as Wisconsin smiles at Remee. "Hiya, and it's the Eagle Union. I'm an Iowa Class ship, myself. Me and my sisters." She puffs up a bit, preening. "But I'm just here to make sure things don't go sideways. Sometimes they do, ya know." A knowing wink at the younger girl...     Yorktown is, however, continuing business. "What is it... your faction of the colony is after?" Don't think she hasn't missed that. "You said the departments might get split up. Are you hoping to get a chunk of this, or are you trying to get something negotiated for the entire colony?" Her iPeach is flickering and spitting out holographic charts as she starts inspecting the place, pulling up publicly available reports and financials of the previous owners. The sort of stuff they offer to mid-tier investors.
Wisconsin	Oh, and Wisky ALSO slides over to trade a snack or two with Kukuru. The Fellow Mom gets some of the good rations, the stuff they got imported from the Iris Libre, one of their world's former French factions. It's canned duck and rice casserole, and a couple sides of pate. Mmmmm.
Liza Grier	A fox doesn't exactly blend in here, but being small and non-reflective matters a lot in a busy and inadequately lit cargo hold. Shimmer doesn't spot anything all that intuitively out of place; it's hard to imagine how much this place really needs to run, but the personnel exit out of the cargo hold clearly being some sort of checkpoint, with new steel barricade and booth welded to the corridor, with men in rough, baggy green clothing and rifles stationed next to Mystery Arches, seems at odds with everything else.     The flow of special crates takes Rita to the back end of the hangar, where a company owned (now 'ownerless') ship with its markings filed off (and visible weld-work done to its transceiver panels) is docked in a corner bogarted by more men with guns. Up close (and probably invisible), she can see where the patches have been ripped from their outfits, and RFID tags have been pried out of their satellite radios and smart devices. The craft only has a nervous-looking pair of pilot and copilot lingering and smoking just outside the cockpit, work coveralls peeled off to air out the sweat, whilst a mix of men with work skeletons and rifle-holders mingle together unloading.     Slipping her grubby little fingers under the coverings, of course, finds large quantities of weaponry. Not cheap, either; she'd recognize a Space AK-47 by now. As well as parts for what might be a military vehicle. They seem pretty familiar, in some ways. And . . . upgrade packages? She can only read the writing on those, recognizing a few foreign words she'd seen on old cases. Something about 'radio'.     Berislav's presence is remarked upon with only a little interest, more to the effect of 'is some dinosaur from management getting married or something?' or 'maybe a funeral I guess' and 'probably a replacement for the narc chaplain, right?'. When he whips out a mecha right then and there, the tenor of discussion changes considerably. A man wearing augmented reality goggles wired into his hard-hat checks him out, radios something, a couple of guys at the checkpoint shake their heads, and then he moves up to introduce himself as "Barlowe. Floor coordinator." and wave him into lane with some of the (somewhat smaller) loader mechs.     Patching into their comms, he is party to a vivid and colourful running commentary of trucker talk. Pondering on the state of 'the local accounts', and how much is really left in it, versus how much material they'll need to 'hunker down'. Whether the worker council elect can really swing an independent contractor deal. Rumours of weapons smuggling, and some excitement at the idea of fighting 'CGTs', with overtones of the arms being for 'something that comes later'.     When there'll be time to go out for a joyride to the coast. Massive backlogs of maintenance tasks in water and air recycling and janitorial. Discussing the feasibility of hydroponics. Expressing mingled uneasea and hopefulness about what their 'company contribution funds' are being used for by the council, now frozen and appropriated as a community aid slush fund that they aren't quite abreast of. Grudges about the 'old sec force'. Rumours of 'Greene's' Watch connections. Whispers of dark secrets and favours owed. The mob. Organized crime. The Syndicate. Cults.
Remee Halcyon	"Right! Iowa -class-, and Eagle -Union-, not the other way around." Remee nods along to the history lesson. "Contracts are only as good as your ability to enforce them, and if it's a David vs. Goliath situation... well, I don't have to explain how that goes, do I. You all lived through it." "But okay, so that's the long and short of it. Legally, well, you can't depend on legally, not that 'legally' has done much good for you so far. Essentially your operation here is going to be overwritten once the reposession teams get here, right? At that point whether you're a worker cooperative or not isn't going to matter worth a damn." She looks over at Wisconsin's group. "It's... Acquiris Quodcumquae Rapis territory now, as far as strategy, I think. You get what you can grab. They don't want to roll over and let the new bosses move in, they want to stay as a worker cooperative, and we're being tapped to be the muscle on that. Right?" "So let me float you an offer. This isn't a proper offer yet, it's contingent on a proper tour, and some other discussion... but how committed are you to *staying* as a worker coop?" asks Remee, looking Miss Greene up and down, appraisingly. "I do have my own corporation that I'm forming. Offering majority stake could buy your group a lot more protection than a simple mercenary contract."
Father Berislav	Introduced to the floor coordinator, Berislav continues his work with gusto, pleased to be of immediate assistance. He contributes, particularly, to the conversation regarding the slush fund, between back-and-forths along the cargo lanes. Specifically, he's taken the side of those who are hopeful, and gently chides those who feel unease: "I can certainly understand the concern. I'll argue your case with the council in favor of transparency. Just remember that even with that transparency, you should only be looking in your neighbor's bowl to make sure your neighbor has enough, hm? Consider, also, who it benefits for you to be suspicious of your neighbor."      Petra asks about the mech's customizations. "That's right," says the priest approvingly to Petra. The movement of the silver mech's red cloak occasionally reveals the head of a war pick on its back, or the outline of an integrated holster on its thigh. The size of it means it must surely be the Henson's signature hand-cannon revolver.      "Much like this place, things were in the very early stages of independence, but unlike here, the company took a much more active, aggressive role in suppression. Possibly from prior experience," he asides. "I christened it Isaiah 3:14," explains Berislav through the mech's speaker as it delicately sets down a heavy crate. "A verse I'm particularly fond of, and a good reminder of my mission."      "The paint job and the finish are my work, as are a few auxiliary options I've had installed. I'm flattered," he says cheerfully, as the mech turns and moves to retrieve another, "But I think the most important take-away is that it would have been much harder for me to reach the captain, had it not been for the effort the workers put in to subdue the rest of the security detail. To this day, I'm proud of them and what they accomplished."      Returning to the conversations with the cargo crew, "I happen to be fairly handy with tools, myself. I couldn't help noticing the air quality, and I'd like to be of some use there, as well. This backlog--is it due to a shortage of people, or parts? I can at least do something about the second."
Kukuru	Humming mirthfully as Anita takes that shortening better than most, Kukuru follows along while greetings Remee, Wisconsin, and Yorktown with light waves and offered snack bags (and trading, in Wisconsin's case). Anita gets a snack bag, too, if she decides to take one. They've got little fried meat bits in them, and the napkins in the bags make it surprisingly easy to just pour right into the mouth like some kind of glutton. "That's pretty generous of them to offer, but it doesn't look like it really... Um. Worked, no." She comments with a light sigh as Anita explains the situation, following along and glancing around at things in passing just to identify nice, high spots for non-work reasons. "But it looks like a bunch of stuff is still working, right? That's fantastic, that all of you were able to work together and get it all working even with all that." Beaming proudly, she takes what Anita's actual plan is in stride, nodding slowly as things get laid out. "So you wanna make this place able to function on its own without all of them getting involved? That's not a bad idea, especially if.. Um." She takes her time pronouncing the name. "Aporian messed it up so bad. If this works out, then I think you might have a good shot at making the Concord happy, too!" Clapping her hands together, Kukuru turns to Anita with the same bright smile and... Digs in her pockets to pull out some files. She needs a moment to reread what she was instructed to do, then looks back up at Anita. "So... How's that sound?" She goes quiet for a bit, then remembers to actually give her proposal: "If I help out here, you could repay the Concord directly becaaause... They put a lot of money(*) into helping this get all set up way back, you know? And even though Aporian did a real bad job, we'd still want you all to do good so everyone can be happy with how things end up. And if everyone knows you're working with the Concord, they'll understand it's better to join us than... Not!" A beat, and then she finally remembers to ask the real important question: "So~ What do you need us to do, Annie?"
Liza Grier	"My faction?" Anita blinks at Yorktown. "Oh, my dear, there are no factions. Each department chose a head from within their own ranks to represent their interests, and we've been coming together for the past three weeks to discuss matters and put them to vote." She lingers in quiet for a little bit, then says with a modicum of pride. "I've been chosen for public relations and negotiation, for my efforts organizing all of this since before the default, and as the head of logistics, so I have the unenviable task of managing the finances we have to get us what we need and make sure everyone gets paid."     She sighs, but nods without reservation, at Remee. "Of course this is all very grey, legally speaking. But so is corporate reposession. Since there's no government here, Aporian had right of territoriality, and right now there is no real law, so to speak. Corporate security has been mostly purged. Once they were no longer getting paid, and we had no desire to keep the bulk of them around, we promoted from within our own ranks. People who actively helped to fight in the unionization efforts, from the very start. Dedicated strikers and guerillas, you know. The few leftovers were corpsec types who sat out and refused to crack down during the fighting that went on around that time. Trustworthy kinds with people who can vouch for them. Right now, they're mostly trying to keep spies out. But it wouldn't be inaccurate to say that it's not technically illegal if we shoot a repossession team stepping out of their branch office. As long as we incorporate fast enough."     She turns and looks at Remee. "Very, as of the moment. But you'd have to discuss that offer with the entire council, not just me. The people here are sick of the lifestyle they had. We're already stretching their faith by using the company contributions they had saved up to refit, upgrade, and tide us over. You'd need to make quite an offer" However, Anita tenses up more considerably when Kukuru mentions the Concord's stake. "The Concord's investment was with Aporian. I trust you understand that even if we don't execute on our current strategy, the other companies won't be so kind as to pay you back. If you help us secure our independance, we can talk terms."     More concretely, she adds, "Dealing with corporate spies from hungry affiliates. Preventing the sabotage already starting to happen; ravaging our infrastructure and abducting personnel so we're forced to fold, of course. Helping us get in touch with 'more competitive' sources of materiel. Attracting anyone willing to invest based on dividend and not stock. Possibly, we may be forced to ask you to repel corporate repossession teams, but that's what you're good at, isn't it?" She smiles knowingly.
Liza Grier	Berislav's chiding gets some trucker-laughter and comments that 'neighbour' makes him sound like a priest, but broadly speaking, people want to believe him. He can feel it in their tone. Worries about giving up the meager funds they actually have saved, on a promise of a better life with little to back it up. Big dreams, high hopes, and intense worries about this chaotic period. Few people really care about other departments getting less or more; only that the money is used wisely, and not squandered on boondoggles that end up with them all back in debt to another company.     They enquire immediately as to what he means by the atmospheric problem. The planet isn't slated for terraforming in the next fifty years.     However, it is not too long before the promised arrival occurs. A second shuttle, smaller this time, loaded with what must be heavy industrial supplies, touches down at low burn two slots away. Liza is pretty recognizable when you know what she looks like without her hardsuit, even if her current cutoff top and utility pants would blend in here. Nobody looks at her much, as she waves her way off, and hauls two locker-sized crates atop each other over to the Watch vessel, then dumps them off by hand at the end of the loader mech bucket brigade. Dusting her hands (her 'PDA' notably still clamped to her wrist), she looks to the gathered Watch types expectantly.     "First impressions? Don't think. Just say it."
Kukuru	"That's great, when everyone trusts each other enough to pick someone that's their best. And then everyone working together like this... It's really nice!" Kukuru sounds positively elated by Anita's response to Yorktown, and she scooches over briefly to give Anita a gentle pat on the shoulder. "It really sounds like tough work, but I'm proud of you. Just don't be afraid to ask for help when you need it, okay?" The legalese and also the lack of legal black and white in the whole situation, meanwhile, mostly goes in one of Kukuru's ears (drills?) and out the other. She understands what's being said about everyone trusting each other, at least, as that gets her smiling once again as it goes back into territory she can understand once again. "Don't worry, I understand completely!" She does not, but she sounds confident that she does. If nothing else, she does understand enough when Anita mentions the difference between working with the companies lurking beyond and with the leaders here. "I know it's hard to believe from how I look, but the Concord's got plenty of people way smarter than me-" She says, with complete and utter sincerity. "-but you can count on us to help get you all out of this mess. Wisky and Yorkie are strong, and Remee's got a really good heart, too!" With specifics being revealed, Kukuru's expressions steadily shifts from firm and confident nodding to blank stares, then back and forth. It largely depends on how much each topic sounds like it relates to espionage and negotiations (leading to the blankness) versus more straightforward abduction prevention and repo team repelling (leading to utter confidence). "Are they doing that stuff right now? Or... Um... Oh! Do you know where the spies are? If you have-" She trails off for several seconds, then snaps her fingers and starts prying one of those food cans open to start munching on. "Camera footage of where they are, we can get started on getting rid of them real quick. Maybe even before dinner time!"
Rita Ma	Rita, peeking under the sheets, breathes out a little sigh of relief (and then nervously glances around to make sure nobody heard). It's only guns. That's normal and reasonable and trustworthy, actually. Slipping back out of the guarded ship, Rita hurries to get far enough away again that she can drop her invisibility without being suspicious.      Naturally, she gravitates towards the other Watch members, appreciating the Isaiah with gentle awe before waving up at its cockpit and at Petra. For a few minutes, she checks in with Barlowe too- even if she doesn't, strictly speaking, have a suitable mech, she's more than happy to coordinate on the radio and help move around the loader-sized crates alongside them.      Super-strength isn't normal, but it's a normal kind of abnormality. People can have it for all sorts of totally benign reasons. Rita's only a little shy about putting it to good use. In between runs, she thinks to call up: "What's so cool about revolvers in particular, Ms. Petra?"      But as soon as Liza steps out of that shuttle, Rita apologizes to Barlowe, drops off her current crate, and sprints over towards her. "Oh! Ms. Grier!" If they'd been apart for more than an hour or two, Rita would probably insist on a hug; instead she just sticks to Liza's side, content with being in arm's reach.      "First impressions? Well, everyone's working together. That's really nice. There's a sense of togetherness, you know? But I also feel like..." Rita casts her gaze towards a pile of junk in a corner, and her expression turns to a faint frown. "They have to ignore some of the smaller problems, because they're focusing on the bigger ones. There's still rough edges because they're under pressure. Does that make sense, Ms. Grier?"
Wisconsin	>The Concord's investment was with Aporian.     YYorktown sighs at that and rubs at the bridge of her glasses with a stylus. "Right, of course, it was." She blows a breath through her teeth a moment and then points the stylus at Kukuru. "She's got a very good point. This seems to have been a very... hands-off investment from Concord, up to now. Did any of the admin ever come and tour the place?" She's scribbling a bit, taking down ideas and plans...     Kukuru seems to have a good idea though, and as Yorktown continues to talk, Wisconsin, still doing the jovial mom thing, sends up a drone. It looks... vaguely like a faerie of some sort, if faeries had quad rotors for wings. The little critter helpfully toots around the office a moment, before flittering out into the facility at large. Let's see who else is here and what they're up to... and who's listening.     Wisky, though, is flexing an arm at Kukuru's talk of beating spies around the head and neck region with artillery fire. "If you're committed to keep working, even though it's tough, I'm sure between... most of us, we could figure things out, aye. All it comes down to is funding."
Father Berislav	"It isn't? My goodness--but the air outside is so harsh. Another consideration, then, I suppose. Are the scrubbers and circulation in the arcology at least up to task? Ah--excuse me just a moment, everyone, my friend is here."      The silver combat model marches over to Liza as if it were simply an overly large humanoid creature rather than a complex assortment of motors, servos, pistons and cables. Its black ribs open up like the jaws of some dreamlike animal, revealing the priest inside a dimly red-lit cockpit.      Berislav takes the several-foot drop gracefully, landing lightly on his feet after running down the steep incline of Isaiah's leg. Smoothing his cassock, he gives his report as the ribs close behind him:      "My thoughts," he says, "Promising, but early in its development and therefore vulnerable to predation. Surprising no one, the Concord is here with offers and honeyed words," adds Berislav with a tight-lipped frown, squeezing the book under his arm closely to his side. "There is some concern over the council's appropriation of funds, which I have allayed. There is also concern over the presence of former security officers amidst the workers. I haven't yet ascertained the truth of their repentance. As you may expect, there are rumors of cults, organized crime and other such externalities circling like wolves. And, finally," he says, "There is a substantial amount of maintenance and janitorial work yet undone. I imagine because supplies are low and expensive on the meager pay they're receiving."      He then smiles, offering Liza a hand to shake. "A pleasure to finally meet you in person, Ms. Grier. I'm Father Berislav--we spoke on the radio a few days ago." A glint of mischief gleams in his eyes. "Although I believe then you referred to me as 'Daddy Ber.'"
Remee Halcyon	Remee takes a stealthy cell phone camera shot, under the guise of having to check her financials. "I can make a good faith offer, on an unrelated matter, to show my surety - I have an associate who's in need of quite a lot of starship hardware." Actually it's for her, and actually it's for a space station, but no need to mention all that in front of the Concord. "We can handle pickup ourselves, as well. I'll offer standard market rates and pay up front - which, unless I miss my guess, you'll have a hard time finding those terms elsewhere." "As a consequence of being potentially a soon-to-be legal non-entity, I mean. Sorry. Just pointing it out." The talk of the Concord's investments come up. "The Concord does have a way of nosing its way on in, doesn't it?" says Remee, uncharitably. "I'd be careful about how much you open up to them."
Petra Soroka	Petra hums happily alongside the Isaiah, still fawning over its construction. She chimes in to the conversation about the atmosphere, "I've got a spare purification system in my mask, it's small, but it's more efficient than anything else I've seen. Maybe it could help as a blueprint or something, for indoor filtration, since Father Berislav's got some mechanic skills."     Petra beams at Rita and waves, from where she sits on top of the Isaiah's big flat head. She climbed on top, at some point, and has been dangling her legs over the side while watching the bustle of the hangar below her.     "I just think, it's more interesting for guns to have such an obvious, limited capacity?" Petra wonders out loud, fidgeting with her own revolver's cylinder. "It makes you have a kind of rhythm, that a proper magazine wouldn't. They're also simpler, I think, and since I can understand every part of how one works, I can use it better."     Gladly taken along for the ride when Berislav goes to greet Liza, Petra hops onto the ground to respond.     "Well, it's surprisingly busy, for some place where there's not really any proper payment happening anymore. That means the people here are motivated to build up their own community here, just because they value it for its own sake. That's good, I think. The fact that they have so much cargo to be busy *about*, is kind of strange, but it's not like I have access to all their financial stuff."     Petra studies Liza briefly, quickly looking away from her exposed arms and towards the crates she brought. "What I want to know is, what's your relationship to this place? What's your goal here? I mean, I'm not saying that I think you'll blow the place up, but what are you working towards specifically?"
Liza Grier	Anita, unfortunately, believes Kukuru wholeheartedly that she understands. "Oh, I'm so glad! Of course, I knew you would. You're not like the corporation, right? The Concord isn't even one. I told them that. I'm sorry to tell you that there are members of the council being . . . fussy, about allowing anyone else in to help us. Their wariness is completely understandable, don't get me wrong. When you've been pushed around for long enough by the powerful, you start to see power itself as the problem, and not a means to an end. They just can't quite understand the the kind of help --the real reason for having power-- you can bring to the table is no different than the help, the power, we tapped into to get this far."     She arrives at an elevator, still bidding you to follow, and hammers a button many floors down. "Oh, it's already begun, believe me. Nobody on the worker's council is refusing to believe it. The affiliate corporations are all happy to pay a few hundred thousand for expert teams of crack outsiders if they have to, for an operation worth tens of billions." She purses her lips slightly when Wisconsin mentions the F word. "I'm taking us to the shipping level now. The worker's council set up quarters not far from there. We decided it was an important statement to put it down there, instead of just taking over the polished desks on the top floors. Before we go in there, I'd like to have an idea of your pitch. What your starting bid is going to be, if you catch my meaning. Seeing as this was my idea, and I handle the finance, it's my job to smooth this all over."     Her frown to Remee is understandable, but there's an undercurrent of nervousness to it that seems completely unrelated to anything she's actually said. "I've been working on this project for two years, Miss Halcyon. I was first at the table, back in the days we'd gather in the reactor sublevels to discuss unionizing. I was first on the picket, when we were all throwing bottles and hurling gas bombs back at corpsec. I was handing out leaflets. I was giving the speeches at the rallies. I've been to the brig no less than six times. I have friends here. Family. I've even lost some of those here. Please understand that my aim is to see our independence by any means necessary." She sucks in a breath. "It's only unfortunate that the realities of giving every worker an equal say is that not everyone understands things as well as me. There were plenty who didn't want to take any of the risks that got us this far."     This is all very nice, and has nothing to do with an AI-driven market fault. She sounds as if it she believes it is.     Of course, the first thing the drones are going to spot is the unfamiliar mech on the cargo level, and the cluster of known Watch agents right there. Long before they can scout out an entire arcology the size of a city downtown district. There's a bit of time to scan them, before the elevator pings, and Greene steps out, heading towards the landing bay.
Father Berislav	"It could, at that," notes the priest, regarding Petra's suggestion. He smiles softly. "I'll make a note of it, and we'll add it to the list of 'little things' to work on, and hopefully take off of the shoulders of the workers."      Berislav also chimes in regarding revolvers: "I prefer a visual read on how much I have left--" With a backwards nod of his head towards Isaiah, "And Isaiah handles manual-load weapons quite well, besides."      Pausing thoughtfully, an index touched to his lower lip, "There's also the matter of... how the weapons are perceived. There's a fair chance that someone bringing a revolver into a serious engagement is either going to be feared or underestimated, both of which are useful to me," he adds with a bright smile.
Liza Grier	Liza lets her hand fall on Rita's near shoulder out of absentminded fondness; easy to miss for her laser focused stare. One could almost imagine a red dot at the other end of her eyes as she sweeps around the bay. When she looks at Barlowe, he taps his radio again, and mutters something fast. The no-patches at the checkpoint huddle up. "So it held together this long. That's a good sign. The cracks always start to show around now." She allows herself a quick glance to the junk heap. "Yeah. I know." she says. "But that's what I wanted to see with my own eyes."     "Do you know, Rita. It's always 'the big problems' that keep the little ones from being solved, but what's a big problem and what's a little problem is something different for everyone. Who gets to decide that, right now? Whose problems are too little to care about?"     When Berislav drops out, Liza glances up and down his mech, silently tilts her head in something approximating approval, takes his hand, squeezes firmly, looks him in the eye, and says "Yeah, though it seems you're more of a fox type in-person." with the oppressively apathetic air of a woman who has never thirstposted on tiktok in her life. "Vulnerable to predation is right. That's why I checked in this fast. They're going to recognize me pretty fast." Her expression tightens, but holds barely neutral, at the mention of 'appropriation', where she interjects "Seizure? Taxation? Paid-in pot? The method matters. Who has the keys? How many people is it spread out to?" But the member of former sec breaks her lips into a thin grimace of revulsion. "She fucking what?"     She's starting to march, almost right past Petra, towards that checkpoint. Someone departs from the security group, jogging around the corner. An elevator dings somewhere down the hall. "With what money? Nobody is delivering to a powder keg like this at market rate." she mutters, almost to herself. Only the more pointed question slows her pace by a stride or two. "My relationship is . . . nothing special. An old friend. Acquaintance. She used to be an informer and agitator for the Syndicate. Anyways, she called in a favour I owed her from a long time ago. I helped her. With Aporian. All the parts of her project she couldn't do with her skillset, and wasn't willing to risk."     Liza murmurs "Probably the only reason she picked this place is that she had family working here since her Syndicate days. She talked a lot about getting them out and settling down, running her own ship, when she got out. I didn't ask about the jobs here. But I warned her. I told her I'd be back."
Kukuru	"Yeah... But that's okay, too. We don't need to worry too much about what Aporian's doing now, I guess. I can just let them know back home that we can worry about the original people from Aporian separately~" Kukuru chimes in response to Wisconsin, perhaps a little too cheerfully for anyone that wouldn't have the sort of complete faith in the Concord that Kukuru seems to have. Remee's comment on the Concord, meanwhile, is also met with that same level of complete faith and lack of awareness in other people's opinions about the faction. "Mhm! We've gotta be involved in a lot of stuff to help everyone out, after all. It's so good to know you get it, Re-mee~" Still beaming, she turns to Annie with another side comment. "Ah, but you don't have to worry about being careful. Even if we have little disagreements sometimes, we're still a family, and we always take care of each other." Seeming quite pleased with herself, Anita gets a firm shake of the head at her question. "Not at all! Corporations do all sorts of shady legal paperworky things, but the Concord's super truthful about what we do. We don't need to be that... Um... Sneaky!" She giggles softly, then shuffles right back over to give Anita another reassuring pat on the shoulder and ruffling of the hair. "It's hard to trust new people coming into your life saying they'll help you. It's not bad to be careful because of... All that stuff, yeah." She nods, a bit solemnly. "People with power doing bad things really gets on my nerves, though, and... That's why I wanna help you all, too. I just want everyone else here to not have to ever think about that happening again. If everyone here can be happy and trust in each other and their new family members, then it'll be way easier to live and work and relax! You, the Concord, and the Watch, too, if they want~" She directs a hopeful look at Remee at that last part while heading into the elevator. The numbers, once again, get her eyes to glaze over a bit. What really catches Kukuru off guard, though, is the mention of starting bids. She looks over at Wisconsin and Remee, as though they might have a better idea of what all that means, then back at Anita with a considerably slower nod than all her other ones from earlier. "I'm sure they'll understand how important it is to work with us if we tell them good enough. Why we're here to help them, what they can accomplish joining us... Um. How easy they can sleep once they don't have to worry about bad people..." She semi-repeats, more to herself than to Anita. She might really just need that reminder, but at least she's doing something to try and commit it all to memory, even if she's also getting distracted hearing about how Anita started among those unionizing here for the first time.
Wisconsin	Wisky, Yorktown and Kukuru seem to be conferring over their radios for a moment or two, before Yorktown speaks up. "We can offer a return to Concord financial backing, of course, for the worker's coop, for a percentage of materiel. We have several members in the Eagle Union fleet who are... capable of handling saboteurs and spies, if you'd rather a personal touch to things, rather than simply having Concord mercs and hires milling about. Also, they're cute, which should help with morale."     Cute girls doing things is usually good for morale, in most situations.     Wisconsin, letting Yorktown handle the particulars, turns to look out in the direction of her drone, trying to place faces. There's some new people out there... She snaps pictures of Watch agents, before letting the drone glitter off towards the rest of the complex. A nice thorough sweep of the facility, but that'll take some time.
Remee Halcyon	"..." Miss Greene." Remee takes a breath. "Rebellion's hard. I know. Whether it's small or great, fighting for a place for your union at the bargaining table, or overthrowing an entire corporate station. I sympatheise. I've lost some of my own family already, trying to do what I do, and the rest aren't talking to me anymore. I'm giving up a lot of comfort and safety, working for the Watch, not to mention all the money I'm going to be giving up. I get it." She folds her hands together. "You worked very hard and gave up a lot to get everyone to where they are right now. You should be proud." Remee says this whether it's true or not. Maybe it *was* happenstance, but she's building up a cushion here to soften an upcoming blow, so she doesn't need to examine the truth of that too much right now. "But, I'm going to have to tell you... none of that really matters, right now." "You put the people who put the most at risk in positions of authority, since they're the ones you can trust most. That's fine. But that's all that that should result in, and not a step more. If you did all of this to free the station from corporate control, you can't just... become the new corporation." She gestures out at the rest of the station from wherever they're at right now. Hopefully it's a decent view, to make her point. "All of these? These are your co-owners. Your co-operatives. Not your employees. Not even your charges, your responsibilities. These aren't your sheep to shepard. You can't think of needing their input as 'unfortunate'." "If you still believe what you believed back then, the you that was handing out leaflets and marching with a picket sign, then believe in the cooperative. Talk to them first, not to your handpicked council first, and definitely not to..." She gestures around at her and the Concordites. "Us."
Remee Halcyon	<Tac-Watch> [4] Father Berislav says, "I'll meet you there. I assume Liza will, too." Remee subtly takes a step away from Anita Greene.
Father Berislav	The amusement from being called a 'fox' type fades quickly, when Liza voices umbrage at the presence of former security personnel. "Yes," says Berislav gravely. "It's rather troubling. The nature of the talk regarding the former personnel seems to imply some degree of collaboration with the workers, but I would rest easier knowing--" He pauses, hidden cochlear implants picking up radio chatter. <Tac-Watch> 4 Remee Halcyon exhales. <Tac-Watch> 4 Remee Halcyon says, "Miss Grier, I'm really sorry, she's starting to have a corp outlook." <Tac-Watch> 4 Rita Ma says, "Who is, Ms. Remee? Ms. Greene?" <Tac-Watch> 4 Remee Halcyon says, "Yeah. It's... I'd say it's like, going native, except the opposite." <Tac-Watch> 4 Remee Halcyon says, "There's a lot of 'I did this' to get to here and not a lot of 'we'." <Tac-Watch> 4 Father Berislav says, "That is very unfortunate." <Tac-Watch> 4 Rita Ma makes a squirmy-uncomfortable noise. <Tac-Watch> 4 Petra Soroka says, "Uh oh." <Tac-Watch> 4 Petra Soroka says, "Well, it's not like she's the only one with a voice, right?" <Tac-Watch> 4 Father Berislav says, "I'm afraid my repairs will have to wait. How far are the two of you from cargo? She must be turned from sin, that her soul will be saved from death."      With a look of deep concern towards Liza, he nods, and follows her, as Isaiah disappears in a wave of orange light directed from inside his palm. The skin bears a dim glow that briefly illuminates both veins and decidedly non-organic structure before it fades.      The good-natured smile from before is gone, replaced with an expression like a doctor on his way to an operating room--the grim, tight-lipped frown of someone on their way to direly necessary work.      Hurrying along with Liza, "Remee is likely attempting to talk Ms. Greene down from this path, and I do trust that she's doing her best--so, too, that you'll do yours. But I cannot be sure that this nascent cooperative is safe until I have seen with my own eyes the absence of evil. I hope you don't mind the company."      As he walks, he opens the leather-bound book, flipping through. Notes rest between the pages, bullet points for sermons and cross-references, reflected in the reading glasses he's hastily thrown on. Occasionally his eyes flick forward, up, to make sure that he's not in danger of bumping into anyone or anything.      "Nepotism, do you suppose?" he asks, like a mechanic getting a second opinion. "Intending to set her family up with 'the good life,' as it were? That does narrow it down."
Rita Ma	Rita doesn't bother to hide the growing tension in her posture, or the thoughtful wince spreading over her face. Liza's hand on her shoulder as they walk together helps greatly, but not quite enough. Her hands clasp together behind her back, wringing pointlessly. "This is a nice commuity, you know. Even if it's to cut out a tumor and help them, I don't feel good about doing this."      "But... Father Berislav, what can you even say? Since we're here, it's sort of a threat, isn't it. There's a gun on the table, I think. Of course Ms. Greene will go along with what we say, but how can you tell if she really means it? If she's really repented. Just come back in another two years?"      Rita herself doesn't have any answers. Just the visibly growing certainty that someone's going to have to die that she'll feel bad for. A thought occurs to her, though: "What do you mean, she 'picked' it, Ms. Grier? You mean, she wasn't just a normal worker here from the start?"
Petra Soroka	"But I warned her. I told her I'd be back."     "So it was a little bit of a threat...." Petra mutters to herself, feeling vindicated. She trails behind the rest of the group, absorbing the conversation on the radio with building horror. <Tac-Watch> Father Berislav says, "I'll meet you there. I assume Liza will, too."     Petra shivers, pushing her hands into her pockets. She silently opens and closes her mouth, listening to her companions set out their plan to murder a woman in cold blood. The knot in her chest feels like it constricts her speech, and the thud of her boots against the ground echoes louder and louder in her mind, growing like a drum beat. <Tac-Watch> Petra Soroka says, "...And what if she doesn't convince you that she's, um, repented?" <Tac-Watch> Father Berislav says, "Then I will send her to meet Christ." <Tac-Watch> Petra Soroka says, "She's, like, one of the leaders here. Don't you think that killing her would also make the co-op more vulnerable?" <Tac-Watch> Father Berislav says, "It is better for the community that an example be made of sin, than to allow wicked gardeners to reap its fruit." <Tac-Watch> Rita Ma says, "Probably. But we can help them through it, if they need us."     Petra feels sick, trudging along these halls to a woman's execution. But what can she even do about it? Kukuru's there, she could text her... but then it turns into a battle at best, one that her allies would probably win anyways, and everything would just turn out worse. Not to mention, she'd be betraying the trust of... everyone, and Rita.     It's okay for Petra to not think too hard about this being how the Watch operates. Or that Rita is just as willing to kill Ms. Greene as Liza or Berislav are. There's no moral weight to what's happening, other than the plainly obvious fact that someone is going to be killed. <Tac-Watch> Petra Soroka says, "I just think. Maybe. It's important what the people here think, too." <Tac-Watch> Rita Ma hesitates. "You were talking to them more, Father Berislav. What *do* they think?"     Petra breathes a sigh of relief.
Liza Grier	Anita gives Kukuru a very odd look. There's a sense of reminiscing distance in her eyes, when she talks about letting new people in, and the uncertainty of whether they'll really help. A bittersweet smile briefly takes hold of her, "People who've never taken that risk before will struggle to understand.It can't be helped. But you can't go your whole life trying to never expose your back to a knife. Most of the time, it won't even come. It's more important to know what to do if you really get stabbed."     She returns to present focus when Wisconsin discusses business, waving her hand as she exits the elevator, heading towards the corridor with the armed men and the mysterious crates trickling out. "That's business, and that's for everyone to discuss. Please understand that it's very possible that they might all be receptive to the idea of having you handle this turbulent period, with fair compensation of course, but not keen on a long-term arrangement." She misses a step at that last part. "I'm quite sure we're not looking for that kind of 'morale'?"     She stops, entirely, just short of the gates, when Remee gets into it. When she really has to listen to those words. Remee sees, from behind, when Anita's shoulders rise and square up. She hears when the breath tightens in her lungs and stops in her throat. The quiet tap of the toe of her shoe, counting to five. The curl and uncurl of her fingers, and slow release of breath, before she turns around.     "There are more things in this world than just corporations and good guys, Miss Halcyon. People invented a thousand ways to be and work together before the invention of the portfolio incentive. All my time has taught me perfectly well that 'power corrupts' is something people with power say to people without. What power does is reveal your true nature, because it burdens you with responsibility." Anita rubs her face. "I appreciate your concern. And I understand where you're coming from. But I came here to take responsibility for these people, not absolve myself of my responsibility by dissolving into them." She looks at her, very seriously, past her fingers.     "If you reduce the entire world to evil people with money and power, and good people under their heel, you'll just wind up leading victims to the slaughter in the end."
Liza Grier	"It implies they fell for it." Liza says to Berislav, her pace gradually increasing with each step. "It means she didn't learn the one lesson she really had to." It's his first time, no doubt, hearing that edge --that tilting creak to her voice --the verbal equivalent of a dull thump echoing through the hull and a million tons of steel starting to creak all around you-- but Rita at least knows well enough. "Maybe. I don't talk about family with coworkers as a rule. Do you think that makes it better? Because it doesn't make a difference to me."     Even though Rita practically has to jog to keep up, Liza can speak to her at least a little bit normally. Stare locked mechanically ahead, one side of the conversation is being had with her aggressively bouncing hair. "No. She planted herself here three years back. When she quit. Her last project, but she didn't want us involved, unless we owed her. She's insinuated herself into dozens of corps and orgs before. It's nothing new to her. It shouldn't be."     She ploughs right into the checkpoint. One of the larger men in green steps into her way as the arch blares behind her. He barely glances at the worker on the console. "Hold up. This way is restricted. Stop and check." "Get out of my way." "No can do. You know why we have to stop you right?" "Drop your gun first." "Not the sidearm ma'am. We picked up a high-power teletransponder signal. Not any standard pattern too. You understand why that's a matter of public concern, right? We've got all kinds of-" "I said move." "Hey, we're not being unreasonable here. With something like that, someone could even bring a nuclear warhead here. Remove the--" "Don't tempt me."     Rifles come up with a din of charging clicks by the last syllable. Most pointed at Liza. Some pointed at Rita and Berislav for being her company. Nobody notices Petra. "No, you don't tempt me. I'm done fucking around with you. Don't fucking move. We're going to find out who you work for." says the volunteer in Liza's way. Petra, lagging behind, sees the red dot on the back of her head. From far away, high up.     It's just in time for Anita and co. to walk right into eyeshot. Everyone can see the very instant her blood runs cold, laying her eyes on the other woman's face. Liza reacts only by dropping her hand to the old stechkin at her hip.
Liza Grier	"You've got some fucking explaining to do, Annie." "What the fuck L? You promised me three months!" "You begged for three months. I didn't promise you shit." "What the hell is your problem?! We're even now, aren't we?! You didn't have anything to say about a single thing I asked you to do! It's just business as usual for you now, right?! Don't you have a galaxy to save or something?! Fuck off and leave me alone!" "I have a responsibility to the people I put in your hands, Annie. You're a loose end, remember? I already should have cleaned you up, years ago. Now I don't owe you shit. You get the same treatment as everyone else, you fucking diva." "So, what, now you take centcom seriously?! Now you're going to be their dog, after going fucking feral?! Don't pull that card on me L! You're full of it! This is your fucking purity test!" "You're always talking about fair compensation, Annie. Where's mine? It's been three weeks." "Yeah! Three weeks! Which is fucking nothing! All you ever do is destroy things L! You don't know the first goddamned thing about building anything! There isn't a cell in your fucking brain that can even comprehend being responsible for people's lives instead of just their deaths!" "Tough shit. Don't care. You knew what you were getting into. This is your responsibility. Whatever happens is your fault, Annie." "No! It's not actually! It's not my fucking fault that K died! It's not my fucking fault J went off the deep end! It's not my fucking fault G deserted! And it's not my fucking fault that this is how you're choosing to deal with it! For once in your goddamn life, try and remember what it was like to be a decent human fucking being!"
Father Berislav	The moment that Anita comes into view of Liza and Berislav, the priest is on the offensive.      "Ms. Greene, hello, how are you?" The words fly from him quickly, politely. Perfectly 'nice.' A social call, in contrast with Liza's forcefulness. Berislav gives her a cordial smile, to top it off. "Apologies for interrupting your business with the Concord," he continues, with a downwards inflection at the last word.      Stepping forward to offer a handshake, "I'm Father Waters Berislav. I cam see you already know my associate, Ms. Grier." He pauses for effect, letting the weight of her name stand. "I'm afraid her purity test isn't the only one you'll face today. You speak of being a decent human being," he says. "I'm gladdened, that you have knowledge of what that's like, because..."      Berislav straightens his cassock with a brisk swipe of his palm. "We have, the both of us, heard..." His silver brows knit with worry. "Concerning things about this nascent cooperative and your role within it. I am worried for the health of the cooperative, its safety from externalities," he says, with a glance towards Wisconsin and Kukuru, "And, last but certainly not least, your own spiritual well-being. Liza here tells me that you had family working at this arcology," he says, with a bit of warmth to lessen the impact of the previous statements. He manages a cheery smile, for this, too, rocking lightly on his heels. "It is wonderful that you'd not only take care of them, but also your neighbors as well. What I'd like to discuss with you is praxis--" He says, his smile and tone taking the didactic form of a doting teacher. "Working together," he says, emphasis on 'together,' "Your cooperative has made admirable strides in that regard, and you should all be proud of how far you've come in such a short time. There remains much work to be done," he cautions, "And in the interest of seeing everyone's efforts succeed, I would like to address those aforementioned concerns with you now."      "Is it true," he says, as he lowers back down, his posture perfectly relaxed despite how loaded those three words are, "That former security members who upheld corporate hegemony through legitimized violence, now take part in the cooperative? How much do you trust them? Would you trust them with your life?" he asks pointedly, his tone shifting from didactic to interrogative.      "A few other concerns--there is a certain lack of transparency in the distribution of the slush fund for community aid. Does the community itself not deserve to know? It is *from* the community that these funds are sourced, after all," he adds with a small inclination of his head. These questions are asked, not in the tone of someone who expects an answer--but in the tone of someone who already has the answers. In other words, he'd done some asking around.      "The aims of the cooperative are not only just and right, but they bring all of you closer to the Lord Jesus Christ," he says, momentarily lifting the Bible from its spot tucked under his arm. "But still, I worry about your pridefulness and your associations. You are on a path of great and dangerous sin, Ms. Greene, and the only way to escape it is to disavow it. Utterly," he adds with a wary frown.      Berislav takes his Bible, lifts it up, glances at it and back to Greene, taking a step forward. The tension returns. "Will you swear on this Bible that you will disavow your associations with the cults and the organized criminals who supply you? Will you swear, that you will make plain to the community, every aspect of where the community funds are given? Will you swear to cease the elevation of yourself above the cooperative, in thought and in deed? Will you swear these things," he says, taking another step closer, holding out the Bible, "Now and forevermore? This is your opportunity for repentance, your opportunity to know Jesus Christ, and take your seat at his right hand when you are called to your final judgment."
Kukuru	Luckily for Kukuru, Yorktown has the money stuff in the bag! That leaves her with time to recharge her head and consider her pitch again, still trying to remember everything she had said to Anita that felt really smart while she was saying it. Her train of thought is interrupted, though, when Remee starts talking about the importance of the people that had made all of this possible, about the danger of becoming the new corporation, and about cooperation rather than control. By the time Remee's finished, she actually has Kukuru nodding slowly in approval despite her (probably) not being the intended recipient. Even with a warning from Wisconsin, she hasn't quite realized that there might be any actual threats in the near future, so she's content to just stick close to Anita while looking utterly proud of Remee's way with words. "That was really nice, Remee... I dunno about all of it, but some of it sounded good!" She lets out an affirming noise while following along with Anita the whole while, furrowing her brow in thought again. "Not wanting to get stabbed in the back, though... Hmm. Yeah, it can be pretty hard to let go of that kind of... Feeling, especially if it happened a lot before. It can be really rough if it's with people you thought you could trust, too, and then... It becomes harder to trust everyone else." Rather than sounding more confident, that actually has Kukuru struggling to think of how to alleviate such concerns, especially with Anita talking more about her own responsibilities. Kukuru's first instinct is to just try and give her some physical reassurance again, but that moment will have to wait when she hears a somewhat familiar voice in an unfamiliar and rather heated tone. "Liza...?" It gets worse real fast. Grimacing at the exchange between Anita and Liza, Kukuru bites her lower lip anxiously as she tries to find a moment to speak up. It doesn't really come in any non-awkward way, though, with them yelling at each other about things that would be easy enough for even Kukuru to assume left bad tastes in their mouths. There's another unfamiliar face, too, with Berislav arriving to introduce himself. That calm moment is enough to get Kukuru to smile again, albeit somewhat shakily as she waves lightly towards him before starting to hear him speak as well. "He-llo there! Ah, I think this might be a bad time if..." She gestures at Liza and Anita post/during-blowup, then sucks in some air through her teeth when he starts addressing Anita with his concerns regarding her actions as well. "I... Think we should take a break!" Kukuru practically shouts, clapping her hands together with a too-loud noise when she tries a bit too hard to get their attention. "We've been talking for a while, and... Ah. I bet you're all hungry, right? We should... Give everyone a chance to freshen up first." It's transparently an attempt to restore calm to the situation, all couched in the worried tone of someone trying to keep things from escalating too quickly.
Wisconsin	The doors swing open, and there is Liza, and Father Berislav, and there is Anita and there is an explosion of emotions and activity and all of it is bad bad bad. Wisconsin's cheeks flush, as her engines spool up, and she positions herself directly in a place to cover Anita if this DOES go south. "Hey, hey hey now, Kukuru's right, this is awfully fierce awfully fast isn't it?" Those ochre eyes flick to Remee... who just NOW Wisky realizes moved out of the way of the possible violence.     The battleship's uniform shifts, as she lifts up both her arms in a placating motion. "Just let us off the lift here and I'm sure we'll all be happy to talk things out like... like the calm and rational people we all are..."     The Midwestern drawl has wilted in her voice, towards something more properly soldiery... something of command authority.     Behind Anita, next to Kukuru, Yorktown is quietly getting her systems up and operational as well. Somewhere in the near distance, an eagle screeches, the carrier's white hair lifting and spoofing up gently as she prepares for the worst.