Interstellar Cruise Ship Scorpio - IC

[Enigma]

Interstellar Cruise Ship Scorpio
(Shuttle at Beaumonde, Port Charles)

"Gentles, good afternoon," beams a smiling fight attendent from the forward viewscreen and on the smaller screens mounted in the backs of the passenger seats. "This is the passenger shuttle for the Zodiac Interstellar Cruise ship Scorpio! We are taxing away from the terminal and should be lifting up shortly. Crew members are checking to make sure your seat belts are fasten. Please make sure that any loose items are stowed and any bags are tucked under your seat or in an overhead compartment. Your seats should be in the upright position and your serving trays closed at this time. Thank you!"

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(Mythic world of Zayas, Court Room)

The banging of the judge's gavel silenced the soft mutterings of the crowd. Everyone was looking at him, he knew. The verdict had never been in doubt - but the sentence, while traditional for this crime, had not been enacted for generations.

The judge paused for effect, then carefully intoned for the watching cameras and visitors, "Bring forth the prisoner."
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(Shuttle, low orbit over Beaumonde, night side)

The last whisper of atmosphere faded away from the shuttle's hull as the contragrav coils lifted it into the inky black of space, the planet revolving slowly below their feet. There was a soft "bong" from the cabin speakers.

"Gentles, this is your pilot speaking. We are currently in a low orbit over Beaumonde, we hope you enjoyed your visit there. Those passengers wishing to experience free-fall, please signal your flight attendants for assistance. We will be spending the next thirty minutes in free fall as we swing closer to the Zodiac line's cruise ship Scorpio. We recommend that seatbelts remain fasten until you are directed to release them by a flight attendant, in the unlikely event we have to maneuver suddenly."
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(Mythic world of Zayas, Court Room)

At the side of the courtroom, the tall doors swung open, revealing the prisoner in orange coveralls and paper shoes, standing quietly between two guards in their traditional uniforms of navy blue with silver pipping, their weapons gleaming in the bright lights. Their faces were hidden under the traditional executioner's hood. A soft muttering could be heard among the visitors. The blank, curious expression on her face was at odds with the screaming young woman who had weapt while fighting futily with the guards from being taken away after the sentence had been pronounced last week.

The guard on either side of her grabbed an arm and lifted her off her feet, making the prisoner squeel with surprise as they carried her in front of the judge's bench. She looked up at the judge with wide, blank eyes. He repressed a shudder.

"Has the prisoner's mind been wiped, as per the instructions of this court?"
"Yes, Your Honor!" the guard on her right said.
"Then you may withdraw with the thanks of this court."

The two guards came to attention, then took a step back. The seal under the prisoner's feet lit up, surrounding her with a soft, hissing field.

__________________________________________________

(Shuttle, low orbit over Beaumonde, day side)

"Gentles, on the forward viewscreens, you can see the Zodiac line's Interstellar Cruise Ship Scorpio," the fight attendant announced as the viewscreens flickered back to life. The gleaming starship shone with reflected light from Beaumonde's sun. "We will be docking in just a few minutes on the ship's port or 'left' side at Amidship's Reception on Deck 8, also known as 'The Life Deck'."

"For those of you who visiting us for the first time, the Scorpio is fourteen decks tall, containing our famous Skylight Park, eleven restaurants and consessions stands, seven bars and night clubs, a casino, art gallery, theme park, convention center, mall and of course, our pool area with four different sized pools filled with actual water. Gravity is maintained in all public areas to Earth Standard, but your cabin gravity can be set anywhere from 0.5 to 1.3 gravities for your comfort."

"The ship will be getting underway in three hours, continuing our year-long tour of twenty-three worlds before returning to Earth. Passengers who have toured all twenty-three worlds will receive a special certificate to commemorate their journey at the Journey's End Party."

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(Mythic world of Zayas, Court Room)

"Prisoner," the judge intoned, leaning forward to glare sternly at the girl staring blankly back at him without comprehension. "For your crimes against your people, you have undergone the first part of your sentence - the death of personality. Now it is time for us to impose the second part of your sentence - banishment."

The crowd gasped.

"These are the last moments you will spend on the world of your birth. You are now no longer a citizen of Zayas. May the Ancesters watch over you."

He paused, then nodded slightly.

"Energize"

The seal under the prisoner's feet became a column of bright, silvery light. The girl vanished.

__________________________________________________

(Shuttle Portside Docking Station / Airlock, Deck 8 Midships)


There was a several echoing thumps as magnetic grapples locked onto the contragrav shuttle, then a tug to the right as they were reeled in. Two muted thumps sounded at either end as the shuttle pressed against the docking port collar, which hissed to silent life on the viewscreens.

There was another soft "bong" from the cabin speakers.

"Gentles, this is your pilot speaking again. The time is now 15:10, we have docked with the Scorpio. You may now unfasten your seat belts and move freely about the cabin. We ask everyone to check and make sure you have all your hand-carried bags and possessions with you when you exit the shuttle, the Zodiac Line will not be held liable for any lost or missing items. Those passengers boarding from Beaumonde, please report to the reception desk for your reservations. All checked luggage will be send to your rooms shortly."

"We hope you enjoy your stay with us!"

__________________________________________________

(Deck 11 - Ship's Laundry)

There was a shimmer of brillant light, then the prisoner found herself screaming wordlessly as she fell onto bags of dirty laundry. It took her a few moments to catch her breath. Finally, with a frown, she sat up and looked at the brushed metal walls and the mesh bags with room numbers stenciled on them. With a worried moan, she wiggled towards a gap on the edge, and slipped over the edge to land with a squawk in the Ship's Automated Laundry. The robot handling the laundry bags blinked at her then helped her to her feet with a scolding tone, then went back to picking up bags of laundry.

She looked around curiously at the robots, filling the washing machines, unloading the driers and working the steam presses. One of them came up behind her and beeped impatiently. She lept aside with a cry and stared widely at the robot, who slipped passed her with two bags of dirty laundry.

A robot working a steam table paused, then stepped away from its station.

"This is a crew service area, passengers are not to enter. Please follow me," it said, latching on her arm and leading her gently to the large door that slid open at their approach. The robot paused on the other side of the door, then led her to the nearest elevator. "You are currently on Deck Eleven, passenger decks are decks one through eight."

The first elevator opened at their approach. The robot gently guided the girl inside, the pointed to the buttons. "Please select your destination deck. Have a pleasant day."

With a bow and a slight florish, the robot backed out, the doors slipping shut.

The elevator waited for a moment, waiting for the passenger to pick a button. After a minute, the elevator bonged and headed up the amidship's vertical shaft to Deck 8.

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(Mythic world of Zayas, Judge's Chambers)

There was a knock on the Judge's chamber doors. He looked up with a frown from placing his judicial wig on a head-stand, then called out, "Come in!"

The dark door slid open and a autocrastic gentleman stepped in.

"Lord Vargas!" the Judge blinked, stepping forward. "What an unexpected surprise! How are you today?"

"The Riva girl," Lord Vargas said impatiently. "Where did you send her?"
"Lord Vargas!" the judge rumbled in surprise. "Surely you're not here to protest about her being banished, are you?"
"My concern is merely to be sure that banishing her to some distant world will not reveal our own existance."
"Then you're in luck, because I did not banish her to a world."
"Eh?" Vargas demanded in surprise. "Beamed her into interstellar space? Well done!"
"No! We've been monitoring an Earth ship for a week since I passed my judgement. We beamed her into the heart of the ship. They'll have no idea where she could have possibly have come from. We are safe, my lord Vargas!"
"An Earth ship?" Vargas demanded, balling his fist.
"A cruise ship. They shuttle passengers to distant worlds."
"How... Earthican."
"Is there anything more, Lord Vargas?"

"No," Lord Vargas said, shaking the judge's hand. "Thank you very much!"

As the door slid shut behind him, Lord Vargas looked back, then pulled out his personal comm as he strode away.

"Shade, what is your location?"
"Beaumonde, I'm at the Grand Hotel in Port Charles. What is your instructions?"
"We have a problem; the target has been sent elsewhere."
"Elsewhere?"
"There is a ship in orbit...."
"There are several ships in orbit," Shade growled.
"How many cruise ships?"

Shade grunted, then responded, "One. The Scorpio."
"Your target is on that ship."
"Cruise ships are difficult. Security is tight..."
"That does not concern me."
"Diplomats and world leaders are not easy targets!"
"Then this should be easy for you. Your target is a stow-away. A girl with amnesia. I'm sending you her picture."
"You want me to abduct her?" Shade asked after a short pause.
"I want you to kill her!" Vargas snarled, his face contorted with rage. "I want her completely destroyed, assassin! Nothing left! Her ashes scattered to the four dimensions! Succeed, and I will reward you handsomely! But if you fail me human, you shall suffer as you never have before under the careful attentions of my staff! Remember, not even in death can you escape my revenge! Am I understood?"

There was a long pause.

"Understood."

[VerifyinTr1gIDs]

Michael Roa Valdamjong sat down on his bed, waiting for his luggage to come. He sighed and stood up. He paced around his fancy room for a while. His phone rang. He picked it up.

"Hello, Mr. President?"
"Yes?"
"I've been told to notify you that our blood-fried chicken sandwiches have been perfected and tested. They should be shipped out to restaurant chains on Rezerb within the next week."
"Great news. Thank you."
"Just my job."

Michael closed his phone.

Soon, there was a knocking on the door and he opened it. His two suitcases, one with his clothes and one with his endless supply of coupons for the company's new blood-fried chicken sandwiches, arrived.

"Thanks."

He took the two suitcases and put them against a wall in the room. He took his wallet and made his way down to the Art Gallery. There, he zoned out while staring at, "The Scream", a painting created by Edvard Munch.

[Sy23]

"...249...250...251...252"

The man with the deep chartreuse eyes rummaged in one of the pockets of his jumpsuit, and tipped the stewardess far more than her services warranted. Why not? Whatever else he lacked right now, money wasn't one of his problems. And he'd enjoyed watching her tight little ass as she sashayed along in front of him. He almost fancied she'd out a little more swing in it, just for him.

OK, so here it was. Not a new life, exactly, just a new chapter. He'd tried the navy, he'd tried hunting scalps, he'd tried piracy. This time he'd kick back, let a new challenge come to him. Fate couldn't possibly do a worse job than his own preferences when picking an occupation.

And he had time to decide. Time, for once, was his ally. The more of it that passed, the less likely it would be discovered he'd escaped from the chain gang, collected the huge pile of credits he'd banked under an assumed name, and booked his passage aboard this space-going mansion. Living in luxury, with no hassles, no looking over his shoulder, no superiors or jailers telling him what he should do, where he should be.

He'd probably be bored with this within a week, but right now it suited him to assume he'd come home at last. Security, peace, rest... as long as the ship lifted before a hue and cry could be raised.

He watched the stew undulate away, the memory of her grateful smile still lingering, and walked into the cabin, dumping his single grip-bag (he always travelled light) onto the bunk. The grav-omat was set at Terran level, and the air-con at a steady 25 degrees, just as he'd ordered when booking his ticket. The bottle of Zayan grain-blend was waiting on the bedside table, also as he'd ordered.

He took a look out of the portal - just a space-dock. he'd seen the same scene a thousand times, all over the cosmos, yet it never failed to give his heart a lift. It meant a take off - to somewhere. That's all that counted.

The rest of the cabin contained even less surprises. A threedee - he blessed the memory of the technician that discovered how to receive a signal in deep space - complete with its twelve speakers, all over the cabin. A bedside communicator, clothes press, climate and grav controls, lighting switches. All, of course, a lot more luxurious than he was used to - and considering his recent history, triply so!

He hoisted his bag onto the floor, and sprawled full-length on the bunk. He'd hole up in this luxury womb, until lift-off. After that - well, it would be a long flight, and stewardesses got as lonely as anyone...

[GraftRaven]

There was a crash and a clatter, and with a cacophony of similar sounds a grey-furred being dropped out of an access shaft below a completely smooth black oval (save for where the pointed and articulated landing gear had deployed) that functioned as a ship. The being stood, cursing fluently in a language uncommon to these parts as well as kicking some of the debris that had fallen with him around and brandishing a lit blowtorch and growling at anyone that tried to help him.

Of course Nemix was angry, he had just discovered the source of his ship's recent electrical problem, and the source had kicked him back down the access shaft. He grabbed a rivet gun off of a nearby cart, setting down the torch in its place, no pest was going to stow away on his ship and get out alive.

Minutes later what was left of a gammorean shock-toad fell out of the shaft, followed by Nemix, who was covered in green splatter and wearing a triumphant grin. After a good amount of time spent repairing the damages (from the toad, Nemix's fall, and the short fight that had taken place) Nemix bagged the toad's corpse and set it in the line of things for the incinerator, as was common practice, then made his way back to his room to wash the toad-slime off of himself.

(Feel free to interrupt him, if not I will post again in two or three posts.)

[VerifyinTr1gIDs]

"Earth paintings are so... expressive." Michael walked around the Art Gallery a little more.

[Azazeal849]

Daniel Doverton-Hawke reclined easily in his seat as the shuttle rose sedately through the atmosphere of Beaumonde, seemingly unconcerned as the G-force of the contragrav coils faded away and was replaced by the dizzying sensation of microgravity. He pulled the insulated packet of hot tea he had ordered free of the velcro strip securing it to his tray table, and took a sip. It was Ceylon, from the island of Sri Lanka on old Earth, no less. In fact, it was very good Ceylon, but to Daniel it never quite tasted right if it wasn’t served in a china cup. Or perhaps it was the variant atmosphere, soil and climate on his home planet that made the tea he was used to taste slightly different from the original, despite the same seeds and growing methods.

He carefully closed the valve on the drinking tube and watched as several passengers unbuckled themselves under steward supervision and began to glide slowly about the cabin, enjoying the novel feeling of weightlessness. Daniel did not join them - apart from it being rather improper for a true Londinian gentleman to go floating about like a moron, he already had enough experience of zero-G for his taste. He remembered, rather vividly, launching between the walls and ceilings of the experimental destroyer HMS Cunningham in pursuit of a New Cahaani agent who had sabotaged the ship’s artigrav minutes before an engine test, hoping to pancake the crew and leave the ship free for his compatriots to steal.

He took another sip, carefully resisting the temptation to glance in the direction of the man seated two rows ahead and to the left of him, the one dressed in a simple travelling jumpsuit. His memory was as close to eidetic as a human’s got, and he had already matched the wiry frame and deep yellow-green eyes of the man to the photograph his SIS contact had given him back at Port Charles.

Half an hour later the shuttle manoeuvred carefully into its airlock berth, the artigrav field of the Scorpio gradually adjusting the passengers back to Earth standard as they were reeled in. Daniel retrieved his cane and hat, binned the empty thermos packet, and pulled his briefcase from the overhead locker. As he headed for the airlock he walked carefully to let his legs adjust to the new gravity, which was slightly lower than that of Beaumonde. He stepped aside to allow two young women with tanned complexions to pass, then followed the rest of the passengers through the airlock and into the sumptuously decorated reception area. The designers of the Scorpio had clearly wanted to waste no time in impressing new arrivals, and almost immediately after the double airlock he found himself surrounded by intricately carved wood panelling and soft red and gold carpets.

Daniel was careful to keep his target in sight as he collected his key and took the elevator with him and a dozen other passengers up to deck 2. Ahead of him he could hear the man with the yellow-green eyes counting the cabins as he walked.

"...249...250...251...252."

The same deck as Daniel himself, and only 20-odd cabins down. Now that was lucky. Daniel smiled inwardly, and kept on walking. The man looked up at him as he passed. Daniel merely touched the silver tip of his cane to his hat brim in polite acknowledgement and carried on towards his own assigned cabin, not looking back.

[Sy23]

Kes should have been totally relaxed. The last shuttle had docked, and there was no sign of the authorities coming aboard. He was home free. And yet...

There was a tingling in his psyche, a feeling of disquiet. He had seen nothing consciously, nothing he could place. Yet somewhere, in the deep recesses of the right side of his brain, there was a nagging feeling. Like a nightmare, when you can't remember the content, but know it was of awesome and evil significance.

And he hadn't even spoken to anyone yet - except flirt with the stew, and she'd hardly be a threat! The only other person he'd seen had been that blue-eyed guy with the silver-handled cane, and they hadn't even spoken.

Was there something he'd missed, some track he'd failed to cover, some spoor he'd left? He doubted it. Covering his tracks was one of his specialties...

And yet...

And yet...

He shrugged. Well, one thing was for sure. There was no way he was going to stay barricaded in his cabin the whole flight. If there was some stone he'd left unturned, it'd come to him soon enough. It was time to get out into the public areas, see what talent was around...

[VerifyinTr1gIDs]

Michael walked around the art gallery a bit more before deciding that he should start passing out coupons. He went back to his room and took about, fifty coupons or so, and went down to the mall. He sat down at a random bench and watched the people walk by.

[Enigma]

"Captain on deck!"

On the bridge of the Scorpio, the crew snapped to attention as Captain Sharp entered the compartment, his spaceman's eye running over the stations with practice ease.

"Carry on," he instructed, moving over to his Bridge chair. "Officer of the Deck, what is your report?"
"Sir, we have one late passenger arriving in his own craft who should be docking in ten minutes. All others are aboard and the ship's passenger shuttles are secured."
"One late passenger?" the captain rumbled. "Did he miss the shuttles?"
"No sir," the OOD said. "He ah, apparently decided at the last moment he wanted to take a cruise."
"I hope we applied late fees. Who is this fellow, anyway?"
"John Paris...."
"The diplomat?" The captain stiffened, eyes wide.
"His son, sir."
"Oh," muttered the captain as he settled back in his chair. "Him."
"Yessir."
"He's taken one of the Nova cabins, hasn't he?"
"Yessir."
"He'll be sitting at the Captain's table tonight then, blast it!"

He slumped, then suddenly straightened. "How long before we can get underway?"
"Our slot opens in one hour, sir."
"Blast it, we can't leave him. Nothing for it then. Messenger!"
"Sir!" squeaked a crewman, running forward and saluting.
"Captain's compliments to Lieutenant Phoenix, please arrange for a mix of passengers at my table tonight, 7 PM sharp."
"Well, what you standing here for, boy!" the captain roared. The messenger squeaked, snapped off a salute and ran off the bridge.
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The elevator slid open, revealing a beautiful domed park. The steward saluted and nodded to his right, saying "This way, sir!"

John Paris II nodded, following the steward and his luggage cart out and around to the Nova Star cabins, the best offered by the Zodiac line.
"Sir, you're in cabin three," the Steward said, pausing at the door for the assassin to slide in his keycard. When the lock buzzed, he wheeled the cart inside.

The room was enormous, a virtual cave. A master bedroom and bath to his left, a den that could be converted easily enough to a second bedroom, a guest bathroom, and a large central area with leather couches, low table, bearskin rugs, a small bar/kitchenette and a view of the stars. There was even a baby grand piano under a chandeller, next to a faux fireplace.

"Where do you want me...." the Steward asked disapprovingly as he reached for John Paris' rather plain, rugged cases.
"Just leave them there," he ordered, turning towards the steward.
"As you wish, sir," sniffed the steward, offering his omni. "The captain extends his compliements and invites you to dinner tonight at his table, 7 o'clock sharp in the Constellation Dining room."

The assassin nodded, tapping the steward's omni to credit a tip that made the steward's eyes gleam.
"Well sir," he said with enthusiasm, "if there's anything more I can...."
"No, I would like to be alone now."
"Oh, yes sir. Of course sir."

John Paris sighed as the door closed. He crossed over to the bar and dialed in an order for Whiskey. A crystal glass slid out into the dispenser and filled with the amber liquid. Taking it, he stepped over to the nearest couch and sat down heavily. Taking a deep draft, he set the glass down and sighed.

"Secure the room."
There was a pause, then the AI on his wrist replied, "The room is secured. All listening devices disabled."
"Display the target."
"As you command," his AI replied. A holographic projection shot out from his Omni.
"Wait... I know her!"
"Sir?"
"It's her!" he snarled angrily. "I don't know how or why, but it's her!"

He stood up and grinned.
"I think I'm going to enjoy this kill very much."
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Lieutenant Phoenix frowned. The captain wanted a mix of passengers at his table tonight? She wondered if it had something to do with the new Nova passenger. She shrugged, then had the ship select names at random - Nemix K'Aras, Ava Westmore, Llewellyn Caesaro, Daniel Doverton-Hawke, Michael Roa Valdamjong.

Moments later, the ship's network sent out the invitations to each of them for dinner at the Captain's table, tonight at 7 PM Ship's Time.
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The doors swept open, and a group of people stepped in, talking to each other. They saw her and stopped, still smiling. The Wanderer blinked and smiled shyly back. They turned their backs to her, continuing to talk among themselves as the doors slid closed and the elevator started moving upwards. A few glanced back at her in her orange coveralls and paper slippers and giggled.

The elevator slowed and stop, the doors slipped open and they left without a backwards glance. She glanced curiously through the opening at the few people moving outside the small room when the doors slid closed and the elevator moved up again. The Wanderer moved closer to the doors. When they opened again, she was ready. She popped out, then ducked under her arms as those waiting streamed passed her.

The Wanderer heard the doors behind her slide shut and slowly uncurled as she looked behind her. A small boy standing near by was laughing at her. The Wanderer smiled, then moved away from the elevators and the curious looks people were giving her. There was a flow of bodies going one way, she let herself drift along, taking in the strange and curious sights.
__________________________________________________

"Sir, we've reached the safety boundary," the Officer of the Deck announced over the bridge circuit.
"Time?"
"18:11 hours, sir."
"On my way."

It was just a few minutes later that Captain Sharp stepped onto the bridge, wearing his formal Dining Jacket.
"Are we ready for transition?" he barked.
"Yessir!"
"Make the five minute announcement to the passengers and crew."
"Aye, aye, sir!"


"Gentles, good evening", the calm, assured voice of the Voice of Scorpio stated. "The time is now 6:18 PM and the Scorpio is about to make the transition to Interspace Warp. At this time, we ask that you secure any loose items and to be prepared for a slight jolt as we begin transition. We will be seven days in transition with our next call being the Red Mountains beanstalk on Shilnon."


"Engine room, this is the Captain," barked Sharp over the Engineering curcuit.
"Aye Captain!" the Cheif Engineer responded, rolling his eyes slightly.
"You ready to make the transition?"
"Yes sir, our panel is green."
"Any worries about our containment vessel?"
"No sir! No dings and I'm not looking to make any!"

A green crew member sweeping in a corner frowned and leaned over to whisper "dings?" at the closest console operator.
"We've got a piece of dark matter in the containment vessel. It's not all here, the rest is in hyperspace. When we start transition, we shove our piece deeper into hyperspace and it drags the ship with it."
"I know that! But nobody said anything about 'dings' in school."
"It's when we come out. If we transition too fast or too close to a sizable mass, the fragment swells as more of it follows us into normal space. Sometimes it becomes big enough to ding containment."
"Is that a big problem?"
"No, we're careful and our dampeners prevent full incursion."
"Full incursion?"
"You remember in school how they said two masses can't occupy the same space?"
"Yeah...?"
"They were right," the operator grinned nastily.
"If you two are quite done over there...!" the Chief Engineer demanded. "Transition countdown in five, four, three, two..."


The Scorpio shuddered slightly, followed by a moment where everyone felt like they were being stretched...


"Successful transition sir!" the Officer of the Deck said, smiling at Captain Sharp. Through the view ports, the stars were moving noticeably. One slid off the edge of the screen.
"I expected no less," Sharp nodded. He sighed as he rose from his chair, glancing at the time. 18:33 - 6:33 PM for the passengers. Any moment now the passengers were going to make a rush for the buffet lines and dining rooms. Except those 'adventurous' types who heard all the hype about 'transition sex' - the crew always did a pool on how many room service orders there would be during a transition.

He picked 57.

"Officer of the deck, as per the instructions of our 'Lords and Masters', I will be on the Promenade deck to reassure our passengers that everything is fine before I head up to the Constellation Dining Room to do the same for our high-paying ones. Let me know if there's anything of concern."
"Aye, Aye Sir!"

[GraftRaven]

Nemix stepped out of the small shower in his room, his fur soaked through and in need of drying but happy to have the smell of grease and shock-toad off of himself. He made a mental note to find away around the gravity limits later as he picked up his Omni, noticing the new message. Dinner with the captain? Well at least it was a sign that the crew knew nothing of who he was, or else he would never be allowed near the captain. Nemix looked up at the time, past 18:30 already and he had all of his fur to dry...

Nearly 20 minutes later Nemix exited his cabin, mostly dry save for a lingering dampness in his tail, and wearing a crimson high-necked vest, a pair of formal slacks, a pair of semi-formal shoes, and a different pair of arm-warmers that were a plain black. After all, first impressions were important and Nemix was going for at least "interesting" tonight. He started off towards the nearest elevator at a quick pace, tail swaying all the way to try and dry off a bit, and made it up to deck 3 where the dining was in almost no time at all. He showed his Omni to the hostess, was pointed towards the Captain's table, and told that he would arrive shortly. Nemix thanked her and headed over to the short but well stocked bar and picked a stool before ordering a rum and cola, light on the rum for the moment, then watched and waited for the Captain to show up.

(If any changes are needed say so.)