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Tradeport <Comorro Station>
Built within one of the larger fissures of her digestive system, this common tradeport has rib-like structures with gray-green webs of matter stretched between them to protect Comorro's winding intestinal conduits from damage. Luminescent symbiotes, floating orbs of green and yellow, provide illumination for the cartilagenous nodes that serve as shops and merchant stalls.
The docking hub can be found at the starboard end of the bazaar, while a levimodule at the port end carries visitors to other levels of the Yaralu vessel.
Altor has found himself amongst the rubble of the tradeport to perch. Presently, he's looking a tad bit lethargic for a robot, as he leans up against the wall.
"Well, just keep yer eyes open," a figure in the red-and-white power armour of the Red Eclipse tells a seedy-looking man near the levimodule. "Be worth yer while, no fear." The armoured figure turns and strides back up the tradeport.
Altor offers a rather faint wave to James as he nears him. "Afternoon."
Sterling lifts his helmeted head to peer at the large robot. "G'day," he returns. He pauses, looking at the information about Altor his suit's HUD is showing him. "You don't look s'good."
Altor chuckles softly. "Yeah... haven't had a chance to refuel... everything's going to keep Comorro operational. Not that I'm complaining... the big ol' whale needs it a hell of a lot more than I do. So... moving a little as possible... just keeping my own energy for life support."
A digitised sigh escapes Sterling. "It's gettin' t'be the same all over," he mutters. He turns his head from side to side, scanning the immediate area for eavesdroppers. "I'm beginnin' t'wonder how long we any of us can hold out. We haven't been resupplied of anything since this whole thing started."
"It's a good question." Altor says. "First order of business in any situation... survival. I think at least for the organic folks there's enough in the restaurants and hydroponics areas to keep you folks healthy. It's the energy guzzlers like myself... Comorro needs it, and if we take anything, that's less of a chance for everyone to survive." Altor says, sighing a bit himself. "I'm keeping an eye on my own charge level... if need be, I'll put myself into stasis... the only thing that'll be operating is my memory banks. That can keep me going for a couple of months at least."
Sterling's expression of distaste isn't visible through his faceplate, but it's audible in his voice. "Eh, hydroponics. That means heaps o' vegetables." He snorts. "S'pose it's better than starvin', but I'm gettin' t'the point where I'd kill fer a zik steak." He shakes his head. "We're tryina encourage folks t'use less energy," he continues, tapping himself on the chest. "The mercs, I mean. An' we're usin' nearly nothin' at REM -- chargin' batteries with muscle power an' all that. Not everybody knows how t'do it, and a lot of 'em jus' don't care. Me, I think if yer not willin' t'help y'oughta be food fer th'whale."
"I'd tend to agree... if they don't care, they're dead weight. Make 'em whale food." Altor says.
Sterling chuckles. "Glad t'hear that, mate. I reckon there're enough bleedin' 'earts on this whale that'd disagree, sad t'say. We're all hopin' things'll improve, an' soon. Ain't heard much from the eggheads fer a week," he complains. "But eggheads're eggheads: they know best, damn everybody, an' when they're ready t'fill us nobodies in, that's when we'll find out. 'Course we could all be dead by then."
"I wouldn't be surprised if they come out with a big breakthrough just as she's about to run out." Altor says. "Then they'll take all the credit... typical stuffed shirts."
"You know it." Sterling pauses to lower his helmet and visor. "Why is it we ain't talked more? I intend t'be as close t'the action as I c'n get." He smirks. "Usually I could care less what eggheads do, but in this case it's me life at stake. 'Ol Fritz wants t'shove us nobodies under th'rug, but I ain't goin'. When he comes up empty an' the riots start, he's gonna wanna have somebody like me on 'is side." He grins wickedly. "So if 'e's as smart as 'e thinks, he'd better start bein' nicer t'me an' mine over here." He jerks a thumb over his shoulder toward the Red Eclipse offices.
Altor chuckles. "You've got that right. I wouldn't be surprised if riots do start... especially if supplies to start to run out. That's when the big heads go looking for muscle..."
"An' what good's an egghead when 'e's outta ideas?" Sterling spreads his hands, still wearing that grin. "Next time I see ol' Fritz I'll have t'mention that." "I'll tell you what he's good for. Whale food." Altor says. "Then maybe the other eggheads will get their thinking caps in high gear."
"Dunno how many of 'em are about," Sterling replies. "An' far as I know nobody's talked to the whale herself fer some time t'find out what's her take. Whole lotta people gettin' real antsy out here."
"Can't blame her for not wanting to waste a microvolt of power..." Altor says. "Know the feeling myself. What about those butterfly folks? I've heard mumblings of some sort of goop they have."
"Yeh, they're s'posed t'give us some o'their silk stuff t'help seal up the bigger holes," Sterling says. "Then mebbe she c'n save some energy an' we can get this show on th'road." Something on his left wrist emits a faint 'dink' sound, and he turns his hand over to look at it. "'Bout time fer a shift change," he informs Altor. "I'd best get back. Early merc gets the pick o'meal rations. Not that there's much variety these days."
Altor nods with a chuckle. "I'll catch you later then. I doubt I'm going anywhere real soon, so you'll find me here."
Sterling nods in reply. "See ya, then. Mebbe next time we get t'chat we'll have somethin' brighter t'discuss." He heads off down the tradeport.