Captain. [KDY | Catalys]

[Blackthorne]

Blue Haven Space Station
Somewhere...somewhere...

Collecting blue-collar traffic from the inner-rim made Blue Haven a veritable luxury destination. It's designation primarily mercantile, merchants, high-end shopping for the well-to-do's. This is where one went to get the latest in fashion from the core without having to ever step foot there. This is where the rich and famous came to luxuriate in their wealth.

This is where Dahldesa Shamalain stepped down the loading ramp of the Blackthorne; her heavily-abused and modified SoroSuub Horizon Class Star Yacht. If the custom paint job and pock marking of numerous run-ins with the law in wild space hadn't earned her sideways glances, her attire surely did.

"Catalys Maijora," said the woman to the droids standing guard outside the meeting room.

"No, you're name," came the mechanical response.

Had that droid just given inflection? Was that even possible?

"Oh," she blinked, "Dahldesa. ...Captain Dahldesa. I'm his 3 'o clock."

"It's 6:57."

"Ah, well, time is arbitrary, ad-infinitum," Dahl responded matter-of-factly with a smile. Her pupils were dilated. Really dilated. "It's 3 o' clock somewhere, mate."

[member="Catalys Maijora"]

 

[Catalys Maijora]

A tone sounded off from Catalys' datapad.

"Your three o'clock is here."
He looks at the time, "It's seven..."

"Your three o'clock is here." The artificial voice reports. Catalys almost let out a sigh, but through the silence escaped but a quiet hiss instead. "Send them in," the agent was just about to leave for the day. Stations like these were where Catalys conducted business away from the headquarters at Kuat which still read 'under new management' much to the displeasure of many.

Still, business had to be done and Blue Haven would do just as well as anywhere else.

Now he only waited for his would be client to enter. What demeanor would this one have? He wondered...

[member="Blackthorne"]

 

[Blackthorne]

"Mr. Maijora will see you now."

Dahl, presently standing before a large painted portrait of one of the Haven's proprietors and attempting to mimic the post, turned and batted a brow at the droid, "Oh good."

She stepped into the room, tactical boots leading the way of a wardrobe consisting leather, straps, buckles, and black material. Dahl pushed the hood from her head as she entered the room and gave its contents a cursory glance. It immediately landed upon the most interesting object in the room: a very valuable looking golden effigy in the corner.

"Hellooooo-" suddenly person.

Right. Meeting.

Dahl gave a fang-filled smile, "Catalys Maijora, I presume," she visibly looked him up and down, "nice hat."

 

[Catalys Maijora]

Although she couldn't see it, he stared her up and down from behind his visage-less helmet.

Hat?

"Please, take a seat." Catalys gestured to an empty chat across from him with a clean table between the two. "I understand you have business to discuss?" He couldn't help but continue observing her demeanor, taking note of every aspect of her behavior. That was the analytic nature of an Umbaran; they instinctively dealt with those who did everything they could to hide true intentions.

Yet standing before him was a woman stoned out of her mind.

"I am sure whatever it is you seek, I can deliver."

Of course he meant starships. Not drugs.

[member="Blackthorne"]

 

[Blackthorne]

"Oh - mmm," she selected a chair and pulled it away from the table. Slowly, noisily, ...little bit farther. Perfect.

"Just a moment..." Dahl held up a hand as she then she selected a second chair and pulled that one out too. Space. She needed lots of space. The chairs were too close. Better.

Sidling around the first, the young woman took a seat and kicked both boots up to rest on the table, "Oh hm-hm-hm..." A scandalous eye of fogged acid looked the man over accompanied by a rather inappropriately arched eyebrow. Couldn't get the objects of her heart's desire in Blue Haven. Couldn't get them anywhere, really. Weren't the sort of things one could simply purchase. Power. Glory. The fear of the masses.

Dahl produced a datapad from her shoulder bag and spun it across the table, shoving it towards him carelessly, "There you are, mate. One full scale fleet and armada order plus mining vessels for the Dreadlady Sable. Oh and a custom ship for me - you can put that on her tab."

 

[Catalys Maijora]

One armoured hand pressed down on the spinning datapad, stopping it dead in its tracks.

Catalys looked over the pad's contents from behind the helm, uploading the data to his personal HUD. "Curious, but doable," he comments and sets the datapad back down on the table. His head angled in a way that suggested his staring at her. "Custom ship?" He inquires with a curious tone, his voice modulator having been disabled when she entered the room.

The agent dismissed her quirks, but wondered if she remained much the same without drugs in her system. That same wonderment extended to a bit of imagining on what she would ask for.

Of course KDY would design a 'custom ship' for this client. Catalys could never pass up an opportunity to experiment, it meant unique purpose rather than uniformity. A ship suited for one captain rather than any who can don the uniform and sit in the chair.

 

[Blackthorne]

"That's right."

"I'm in the business of making business for others difficult in order to keep the business of my Boss afloat. What's good for her is better for me. She pays me to take from others so others can pay her for what they now do not have. Everybody wins," a smile, a blink, "...sort of."

"It's a sort of quasi-legal means of undercutting the competition. I need a ship fit for the job and fit for a crew. Something fast, stealthy. Maybe a little freaky looking - " Dahl raised her brows and gave the armored man a pointed look, "first impressions are very important, are they not?"

 

[Catalys Maijora]

Catalys reached upwards to grip at the base of his helmet, the tight seal releasing with the clips that held it to the neck.

A brief hiss preludes the swift lift of the helm that quickly finds its way to the table with a thud. Exposed to the air is a pale, bald-headed humanoid--an Umbaran to be exact. His milky eyes offering nothing but a placid stare. "Then I shall design you an impressionable ship," his true voice was not much different than the one beneath the mask; crisper and softer but more-or-less the same. "And what do you intend to do with this ship?" He asked.

The tone of his voice remained constant, with only the subtlest fluctuations easily missed by the average ear. "I don't ask to mind your business. Knowing is important to ensure your... Satisfaction." Yet he broke the aloof demeanor of his with the slightest crack of a smirk. "Although I do have my guesses."

 

[Blackthorne]

Inexplicably she found her eyes traipsing the face revealed to her. The curve of a bare skull, the cut frame of a regal face. Far back in the coherent reaches of her mind she thought she knew what he was. Pale skin. White eyes. Whatever it was, the word failed to surface through the fog of chemicals.

His question next drew an inscrutable leveling of her expression, "Well I'm going to be delivering posies to the less florally-fortunate regions of the galaxy. Everybody gets a posey. You, and you, and you. All explosion of colors and varieties blooming across the systems, filling their hulls with petal shrapnel and pollen fumes. It's going to be bloody tragic."

[member="Catalys Maijora"]

 

[Catalys Maijora]

"Very well, I shall craft you a wildflower beautiful to look at but deadly to taste," he follows with a single nod of his pale head.

Catalys pushed back the chair and stood upright, planting his knuckles firmly on the table. "I will have your ship ready, and the rest to follow. Twenty-five percent must be paid in up front... It would be poor business to have a client back out of a deal halfway through construction. The rest will be paid on completion--before delivery. An invoice will be sent in a few days, and you will be updated regularly." He explained the general procedure of business. Of course now that Kuat had a habit of building specific to order, rather than selling on the open market, they had to change procedures to ensure good business.

"If you have further questions you may contact our offices and a representative will be sure to enlighten our... Esteemed client." The agent lifts his helmet back over his head, it clicks into place once the seal is reafirrmed. He then took a few steps around the table but did not complete the full journey. "Oh, and if your employer refutes the invoice?" He was referring to the custom ship, questioning the legitimacy of such an addition.

 

[Blackthorne]

"Then I'll refute her refute."

Dahl waved a hand dismissively at him, "Won't be a problem, mate." The Dreadlady was most definitely too busy doing more important things than to scrutinize what would be an inconsequential addition to an otherwise healthy invoice. Besides, Dahl was getting sick of flying around in the ship she'd stolen from her mother. It had served its purpose, but wouldn't pack near the punch worth of her planned endeavors. This was a necessary business expense. Had to spend money to make money, right?