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Bridge - <DMV Sharpclaw>
This spacious command center offers a mix of functionality with comfort. The floor is covered with a deep plush purple carpet that has ample padding underneath to provide a comfortable walking surface. On a slightly raised dias in the center is the command chair, which looks more like an easy chair. It has deep, soft cushions of a lighter shade of purple, with control panels covered with wood highlights are mounted on the fronts of the chair arms. Before this is the main navigational console, a large arc of wood and gold trim that provides all the necessary controls to operate the vessel while maintaining a look of fine furniture in the process. Auxilliary control consoles are on the starboard and port side walls for functions such as science analysis, communications, and computer access, all sharing the same wood paneled look. The viewscreen itself on the fore wall is surrounded by an opulent gold frame, which complements the varnished wood panelling that covers the walls of the bridge. Lighting is provided by recessed lighting in the ceiling, as well as brass sconces spaced along the walls. The console chairs are cushioned much like the command chair, and each station, command chair included, has a polished round mirror mounted on a brass swing arm next to it. A single wood panelled door leads aft to the rest of the ship.
Patchear is laying underneath the navigation console, the tip of her tail swaying back and forth as she mrrowls her annoyance with a piece of wiring. Not much of her is visible, just her legs and tail, but everything is twitching with her vexation.
Silvertips enters the room and raises an eyeridge at the twitchy Patchy, her whiskers quivering in amusement and moves as though she is about to pull on the twitching tail but stops herself just shy of doing it, clearing her throat she says, "Would you like assistance Patchearrrrs?"
A soft hiss of the doors announces Grayback's arrival on the bridge, and he heads over to settle into his chair, bringing up a ship's status report as he glances towards Patchears on the floor. "That answerrrrs my question about how the rrrrepairrrs arrrre prrroceding...." he says, raising an eyeridge.
"I plan to rrremove the furrr frrom the half-witted kit who they let wirrre thisss ssship," Patchear replies with a lash of her tail. She wiggles out from under the console, her uniform removed in favor of a jumpsuit with oil stains on it. A dark glob of oil has managed to drop onto her white ear and she flicks it repeatedly to remove it but to no avail. "I believe I have sssecurrred the nav consssole againssst failure but it was a rrrough patch up, sir. We will need to rrreplace the wirrring if we ever want to have a fully functioning ssship."
Silvertips tries to keep a straight face as she hands Patchears a handkerchief, "I would be happy to help with the rrrrewirring." to Grayback she says, "Therrrre are severrral systems that have failed due to bad circuitrrrry and substandarrrrd materrrrials. The design is sound but therrrre was a lot of corrrrner cutting to save on cost."
Grayback Nimblefoot frowns. "Unforrrrtunately we will have to rrrrely on yourrr skills to keep us rrrrunning for now." the First Fang says, bringing up his latest orders. "Command is awarrre of ourrr difficulties but insists on ourrr continuing on ourrrr annexation mission. To quote: The imporrrtance of additional rrrresourrrces is now morrre imperrrative with the rrrrecent Nall activity. Prrrroceed as orrrderrrred to coorrrdinates 550,287 when currrrent rrrrrepairrrrs arrre complete. Advise upon arrrrival." he says, flipping off his console. "I now lay the question to you. With what we have available, can you keep herrrr rrrrunning for a couple of days until we rrrrreturn for drrrrydocking?"
Patchear takes the handkerchief and wipes the oil from her ear. As the question is presented, both ears flicker in question to Silvertips. "Frrrom my end, rrrewirrring mossst of the imporrrtant sssystemsss thrrrough the brrridge and bypassssing the mucked up messss in engineerrring might help," she says slowly. "Sssilverrrtipsss may be able to ssspeak differrrently but I think we can keep herrr moving but not at one hundrrred perrrcent. Maybe eighty-five perrrcent if we arrre lucky."
Silvertips frowns in thought, "I can patch herrrrrr up to allow forrrrr the needed systems to function at nearrrr optimal but, this will rrrrequire that otherrrr systems, the non crrrritical ones, will sufferrrrr."
Grayback Nimblefoot nods, his ears giving a twitch as he settles back into his chair. "Verrry well. We will prrrroceed once the necessarrrry rrrrerrroutes arrre in place." he says, leaning forward to steeple his paws under his chin. "Let's hope therrrre's something therrrre that's worrrth the rrrisk."
"We need to decide which sssyssstemsss will sssufferrr," Patchear says. "We will obviousssly want navigation and sssenssorrrss at full capacity if posssible," she muses with a lash of her tail. "Our atmossspherrrre to be comforrrtable. Weaponsss?" she asks.
Silvertips rumbles as she thinks and nods, "Yes, yes all of those though with weapons we can keep a select few at full powerrrrr and rrrreroute the rrrest. I have made a rrrrreport of the findings forrrr a systems diagnostic we began yesterrrrrday, it is not finished with all systems but it has gone thrrrrrough a good number." pulling out her PDA she sends the report to the other two, "It is disturrrrbing the amount of damage that happened just frrrrom trraveling as farrr as we did."
Grayback Nimblefoot nods. "I think we can do without full weapons forrrr this trrrip." Grayback says. "We'll be away frrrom the borrrderrr, and not likely to encounterrrr hostiles." he says, standing from his chair, his tail unfolding and giving an idle twitch. Looking to Patchear and Silvertips, he nods. "Prrroceed."
"Yesss, sirrr," Patchear replies with a flick of her ears in acknowledgement. "We will do what we can to make herrr rrrun ass bessst we can," she says though her tail still moves back and forth.
Silvertips nods to Grayback and moves over to the engineering station, "I can do a good porrrrtion of the rrrerouting from here. Some was done by the Second Fang yesterrrday. Frrrrom therrrre I will do the rrest frrrrom engineerrrrring."
Grayback Nimblefoot nods. "As soon as it's complete, we can continue our mission." he says. "Meanwhile, I forrr one would like to grrrab a bite to eat. Would you carrre to join me?"
Patchear looks back at the console but her grumbling stomach answers the question for her and she nods. "That would be quite nice, Firrrst Fang," she replies. "We have been worrrking thrrrough the night on keeping the sssyssstemss online."
Silvertips nods as well, "That would be most pleasant sirrrr." sliding her PDA back where it came from.
Mess Hall - <DMV Sharpclaw>
More like an opulent lounge than a mess hall, this room provides polished wooden tables and cushioned chairs in the far end of the room where the ship's chefs prepare meals for the crew to order in a kitchen off to the side of the hall. In the forward half, holoviewers are situated in lower wells equipped with thick, plush pillows on which crew can recline to rest and watch the programming delivered over the intergalactic broadcast bands. Between these two sections is a set of walkways through small ponds and waterfalls surrounded by lush plants, giving the room a bit of a jungle atmosphere.
Grayback Nimblefoot makes his way up to the kitchen window, taking up a tray, plate and silverware as he places an order for some roast bumble.
Patchear follows Grayback in ordering a meal of dribgib, picking up the required utensils. "Do we know what isss ssso imporrrtant about usss completing thisss missssion ssso quickly, sirrr?" she asks.
Silvertips follows behind Patchy and chooses something random that has meat, "It was rrrrather sudden a mission."
Grayback Nimblefoot takes his tray to a nearby table and settles in. "I believe they arrrre afrrrraid of the rrrriches gaining more of a foothold, especially considerrrring theirrr rrrecent appearrrrance in the news."
Patchear's nose wrinkles with distaste. "I don't underrrssstand why we have let them grrrow at all," she growls out. "They arrre nothing but a thorrrn in all of ourrr pawsss until we do sssomething to sssstop them." She settles down at the same table.
Silvertips nods in agreement with Patchy as she settles down at the table as well, "I am surrrrprised that nothing has been done beforrrre to keep an eye on them."
"Agrrrreed. Howeverrr it will take morrre than just forrrce. Many Vanguarrrrd agents have been found brrrutally murrrrderrred afterrr underrrtaking missions in the Frrrringe." Grayback says with a frown. "With the Nalls nearrrrby, Command does not want to waste rrrresourrrces with an all out assault, forrr it would only weaken us. Therrrreforrrre... we choke them off."
"Ssstop them frrrom rrreceiving ssssupplies?" Patchear asks. "A blockade of sssorrts?" Her tail twitches behind her as she takes a bite of her meal. "They arrre sssstrrrong in theirrr devioussss natures," she muses. "But they arrre not trrrue warrrrriorrrs. They rrrun scarrred if apprrrroached dirrrectly. Look at what happened with the abandoned ssstation."
Silvertips considers that, tail twitching, "Would that not be seen as an act of aggrrrression? Cutting off supplies?"
"Not if we get therrrre firrrst." Grayback says, taking a bite out of his bumble steak. "At least that's the plan. Intelligence suggests that they have morrrre rrrresourrrrces than has been prrrreviously believed. I suspect they rrrran frrrrom the station not because of superrriorrr forrrces, but because of alterrrnative strategy. They'll be back into play, I have no doubt."
"Why do they sssimply not move the ssstation?" Patchear asks, ears laying back. "And what isss ssso ssspecial about thisss ssstation anyway?" she adds on. "It ssseemed morrre derrrelict than dangerrrousss. Rrremove the weaponsss and you have a floating hunk of rrrock. An intrrriguing hunk of rrrrock to be sssure but of no thrrreat."
Silvertips continues to eat as she listens not having much to add being all engineery kitty and not spacefighter kitty.
"A valid question. Something which the top brrrrass has deemed a classified matterrrr." Grayback says. "Something about how it arrrrived has rrraised some questions."
"I sssuppose it could be a ssscientific matter," Patchear muses, continuing to nibble on her meal. "But it alwaysss ssseems to go deeperrr than that, doesn't it, Firrrst Fang?" she asks with a saddened flick of her tail.
Between bites Tipsy notes, "If we have a chance we can have Jiggles take a look at whateverrr we might have authorrrization to have access to. Perrrrhaps he can give some insight."
Grayback Nimblefoot nods to both. "Therrrre arrrre always morrrre questions in the shadows." he says. "Forrr now, we follow ourrr orrrderrrs and let the burrreaucrrrats fight that battle." Patchear flicks her ears in acknowledgment, "Where will those coorrrrdinates place ussss?" she asks after another bite of dribgib. "And what will be looking forrr when we arrrrive?" Silvertips nods as she keeps eating her random meat of the day, "And do we have any inforrrrrmation as to what we might expect when we arrrrrive?"
Grayback Nimblefoot takes a bite of his bumble steak, nodding to the pair. "The prrrrobe indicated a planetarrry system. Rrrreadings indicated life, but the damage to the prrrobe made furrrther analysis impossible. Envirrrronmental rrrreadings indicate possible volcanic activity, thus the planet may be rrrripe for mining of metals, minerrrrals, and possibly fuel." he says, taking a sip of a glass of Demarian Wine. "Naturrally the rrreadings arrre suspect, so we arrre being sent to confirrrm, and stake a claim."
Patchear nods as she listens. "Any evidence that otherrrrs know of thisss location?" she asks. "Ssshould we be prrreparrred for the posssssibility of company wandering along to trrry and steal it out frrrom under usss?" Silvertips flicks her ears as she listens, "Mmmmyes I could see that as being something that otherrrrrs would like to claim frrrom us if they know."
"At prrresent, therrre does not seem to be any indications. Howeverrrr, we will keep alerrrt." Grayback says, his ears twitching a bit. "It is one rrrreason they have sent us. A scout ship, on what is on the outside a rrroutine explorrration mission. The prrrobe's contents are classified outside the Vanguarrrrd."
Patchear's ears tilt to the side and then sweep back forward. "Then hopefully we will not rrrun into any furrrthurrr complicationsss," she muses. Finishing her meal, she rises. "Firrrst Fang, Long Claw, if you would excussse me... I want to finish the rrrewirrrring on the nav consssole beforrre moving on to anything elssse."
Grayback Nimblefoot nods. "Verrry well, Long Claw." Grayback says. "Take the time you need."
"Of courrrse, sirrr," Patchear replies to Grayback. She flicks her ears in Silvertips' direction in farewell and then turns towards the exit.