The Arcana Group: Discard and Draw

[Thexare]

An Oasis-class liner would usually have several active dining halls. Their purpose varied - on an Orbital liner, more often than not they were simply to provide more space, while a prison ship would use them to seperate guard meals from prisoners. Of course, Rotella di Fortuna didn't have either problem, and Jacob was as yet unsure what possible purpose the ship had for more than one.

The evening saw him, the Blackthorn brothers, the rest of his Eighth Arcanum agents, and a number of crew in the one dining hall in known use. One of the crew brought them each a plate of what they called Sirius Stir-Fry - fried vegetables from Cambridge and Gran Canaria, meats imported from Gallia, and rice from Kyushu.

"We don't often get Gallic steaks out here," Oliver said, pouring some gin for everyone at the table. "But I like to treat the crew when we can."

"To a meal that they cook," Alicia chimed in, accepting her glass.

"Well, yes, but I'm the one that pays for it. Somehow, I don't think they want to trade positions here."

Silently, Jacob considered the situation. The Blackthorn brothers were clearly quite wealthy to afford to own, maintain, and comfortably crew an Oasis and still spend on luxuries like that. And he knew Mia had a truly unreasonable amount of money from her father. That both were willing to fund this new endeavor was an unnaturally lucky position for him to be in.

"... the only thing is, we've gotta have a little talk about the guns," Oliver continued, Jacob having inadvertently tuned him out in his thoughts. "You do know how we work out here, aye?"

"Of course, but here's the thing... not everyone's going to back down."

"Aye, true. But you have to try."

"Mm. And you have to be ready when they don't listen. Because, I know the Zoners have called for help before, but you can't keep doing that."

"... 'can't'?" Oliver repeated, sounding a bit agitated.

Jacob continued, undeterred but not confrontational. "Because if the Cretans, or the Core, or the Maltese, or the Order think that the Zoners can't defend themselves, it won't be Freeport 11, it'll be Port Fuad. It won't be Freeport 9, it'll be Gavdos Outpost. You get the idea. The locals will move in, claim it's for your own good, and gradually push you out so they can make more room for their own. And that's assuming they don't just force you out at gunpoint. The Order... probably wouldn't, but I can't put it past the others." This calmed Oliver down; it was clear that in his own way, Jacob was considering the Zoners' well-being. Just, not in the traditional Zoner way. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not here to look for fights. But keeping our place in the Omicrons and Omegas means proving we can protect ourselves. Talk first, sure, but be ready to handle the people that won't be reasoned with... and the creatures that can't be."

Oliver stopped to consider the argument, and raised one important question. "You've been planning that speech for a while, haven't you?"

"No, I'm terrible at speeches." Lauren and Melissa nodded immediately, drawing a laugh from Mia. "Just something I've been bouncing around in my mind for a couple hours. Remember my old job; I have to consider security."

"Very well. But promise me you'll talk first." He paused, and added, "You know, to the humans at least."

"I can agree with that. I have some other projects I want to focus on, though, so I'll probably only be dealing with station security in an emergency. Still, that policy going to be alright with everyone?" The other Eighth Arcanum pilots nodded, with some hesitation on Alicia's part. "Glad to hear it, now let me eat."

Masayuki had already finished half his food, but felt the need to chime in. "I may need a new gun next time we hit a port. Something smaller than my Garudas."

Oliver shook his head. "What, can't throw a punch?"

The younger man couldn't help but laugh. "Oliver, I could take any five of your crew at the same time. But honestly, with some of the reports I've seen I don't trust my chances in hand-to-hand combat with the Wild. And some situations need decisive, immediate action. Hostages, abductions, that sort."

"That's fair. We're not far out from Freeport 1, I bet you'll find something there. And in the meanwhile," Oliver said, looking over Masayuki's shoulder, "I think someone wants to take you up on that challenge."

"Give me about an hour," Masayuki replied calmly, having abstained from the gin. He looked behind him and saw one of the ship's security staff - a well-built bald man of somewhat above-average height. At a glance, Masayuki assumed that this man had little formal training and would be an easy one to beat. "You know, let the food settle and all. And then, the fun begins." The bald man nodded silently; it had been some time since he had the chance for a friendly fight. Bar brawls are just an unpleasant mess.