Practically Concocting A Kidnapping

Posted on Tue May 28th, 2024 @ 4:10pm by Elara ‘Kara’ Vance (*) & Owen Mathieson
Edited on on Fri Jun 7th, 2024 @ 4:07pm

Mission: Fractures
Location: Ships Bar
Timeline: Present - After Fractures ends
1771 words - 3.5 OF Standard Post Measure

Elara was not at all sure what she was meant to do with the Grotto and the chaos inside but it was locked away now. Seeking solace and a reprieve from the turmoil, she sought refuge in the familiar ambience of the ship's bar, a sanctuary for many seeking respite from their own troubles but she sat with a glass of water thinking of everything she would need to do after sleep. As she sat there, surrounded by others who were also trying to shake off the weight of recent events, her gaze drifted across the room and settled on the figure of the human who had become a steadfast companion since his arrival on board at the same time as her.

Steadfast, if you counted the fact that he'd disappeared for a few weeks to attend a conference. There was also the fact that being able to book a return passage had been somewhat serendipitous, and might even have counted as fate if Owen was convinced such a thing existed. The trouble with devoting so much attention to studying ancient civilisations was that you invariably came up with an over-abundance of choice in the divine-intervention category. He'd maintained a reasonably good humour through recent events, and counted perhaps as the only person on board a little disappointed not to have been included in the time travel escapades. Nothing experienced would have involved him probably but that just left more room for subjective analysis. Right now, the only thing worth studying was the coffee in front of him and a replicated soufflé, neither of which really belonged in a bar setting but it seemed slightly too early to bust out anything with alcoholic content.

Elara waved to him and left her companions to join him where he sat with more than she and most people had in front of them. She had no idea what the food was but the she could smell the coffee which stung her nose just a little bit. It was stronger than a lot of people had. “I was just thinking to myself how steadfast you and I meeting like this had become.” She greeted sitting down heavily in the chair.

"Is that a fancy way of saying you're sick of seeing me?" A familiar half-grin transformed Owen's usual resting expression of distracted introspection into the easy-going comedian he liked to think of himself as. Usually, if nobody thought to ask him what he was actually thinking, he got away with it; it was once they realised he was distracted by trying to remember the mistranslated verse of a long-dead civilisation's baptismal lullaby, or fretting about the pronunciation of a ceremonial dagger that he'd only just remembered he'd never completely finished researching, that the cracks began to show.

“Not in the slightest. You amuse me.” Elara assured with a smirk. “And I was very relieved to see you today.” She admitted reluctantly before shrugging. It was always good to see someone who boosted morale at times of heightened emotion.

"Still here," Owen agreed amiably, shifting his half-finished dessert off to the side so as not to be impolite. "Likely to be for a few more weeks too, or so I hear." He watched her for a moment, using the back of his hand to surreptitiously wipe at the corner of his mouth. "Relieved is a strong word though. Anything up?"

"Well we joined at the same time so you were the first person I bothered and yes you left and then came back again but you are someone familiar now and today has been.... long. I don't know how long we were in the time bubble but it felt long and I could not find anyone." She said bluntly as was her way.

"It's been an interesting experience, for sure." Though there had not been a time where Owen had been left to his own devices for too long, he had still definitely been forced to contend with the heart-sinking moment of believing he was alone on a deserted ship. Given that even his small craft license had lapsed last year and he was yet to arrange recertification, the prospect alone was daunting from the point of view of being able to fly for help. "It still sounds like we might have got the better end of the stick though."

Elara looked around and nodded. She was sure that experiencing things the way they had was better than getting flown through time but she would have loved to relieve parts of her career. "I guess but I would have loved to see things from my past." She shrugged. "But this ship has had a wild past. I kind of want to investigate it more."

"There's a bunch of stuff in that Grotto that needs proper analysis, I'll tell you that much." Digging into his soufflé, Owen considered the spoonful and then savoured the bite before continuing, albeit with a partially-pastry-flaked mouth. "Your average cargo ship isn't flying around with a belly full of weird and wonderful artifacts and I'd be willing to bet if there's one potent enough to malfunction time and space, there's any number of others just waiting to cause mischief. You should start there," Owen encouraged. "As a security priority if nothing else."

“Which is why it’s weird and wonderful.” The woman declared brightly. “I did not recover from life-changing injuries to sit still and not explore and get involved in a little mischief.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

Owen lifted his to match. "That's the spirit." There was a pause, rather an awkward one, whilst he ruminated on what might be socially acceptable at this point in the conversation. On the one hand, there had been a very specific reference to life events that practically begged further inquiry. Then again, it sounded personal and Owen was barely competent at knowing the normal human boundaries for intruding on private matters. He had virtually no point of reference when it came to Elara. "Though examining and cataloguing the stuff they've got down there doesn't necessarily have to involve mischief." He thought about it for a moment and then bobbed his head in amendment. "Just an increased likelihood."

"Could stay and make sure I keep out of trouble?" She tempted with a wink resorting to a little flirting with him again before offering a softer smile to him. "I have a lot of spirit so I am sure I can get into trouble and get myself out again." She surmised with a firm nod. There was several things she had spotted from her own planet that she would love to explore more on.

"Well, that would depend on an extension to my Good Boy Pass." Having made good on the recent presentations, Owen had a few months at least to bury himself back in the more scholarly aspects of his job, which could honestly be carried out anywhere provided there was enough coffee in reaching distance. And he was curious about the contents of the Grotto, but it wasn't exactly his place to invite himself on board as Chief Nosey Parker.

Elara laughed. He was a good man, probably too good for the ship and being out in the universe but she could enjoy the company for now. “How can I help you get that extension?” She wondered.

As much as it had been a passing thought, Owen hadn't really considered petitioning for an extended berth. It was a hard sell at the best of the time, even though recent events might have left Gregnol a little more inclined to invest in the proper upkeep of his hoard of potential atrocities. There was also the matter of being shot at by vessels that seemed to have a very specific vendetta, and Owen's personal belief system regarding living on a moving target. There was an element of excitement to it, for sure, but there was also a very strong leaning towards self-preservation. "Asking the wrong person," he replied. "I can say that they'd be better off getting that place squared away properly but they might argue they have more pressing needs. Only so much profit to go around, right?"

Elara listened carefully and shrugged. There was a lot more to the ship than met the eye. She was not going to share that with him but this was actually a day where the greater good had won which was great in her mind when it came to Sons Of Cherons. “So you would be inclined if I could talk Gregnol into it…”

“Talk Gregnol into what exactly?” The man of the moment asked as he walked by and stopped.

A sudden barrage of coughing, mostly due to a gulp of coffee going down entirely the wrong way, was Owen's only contribution at first. He held up a hand, index finger extended as if to seek an extension whilst he composed himself. When he did speak, it was still strained, forced out between spasms. "She's scheming."

The purple-skinned woman grinned up at Gregnol and winked. “I am scheming but scheming for the greater good. He is a historian and you need someone looking at the grotto. Seems a match made in heaven for us.” She said grinning at both humans.

Gregnol looked between the pair and rolled his eyes. “Come talk to me later without the schemer.” He advised seeing his wife waving to him from across the compartment.

"Well, now you've dumped me in it." In typical fashion, Owen sounded too amused to be overly worried about inheriting a future negotiation. It still brought up the unexpected conundrum of having to decide if using the Mary Rose as a base of operations, as well as a worthy side-project, was actually what he wanted for his immediate future. Speculation was one thing but Elara had thrown him headfirst into decision territory.

“Sorry.” She giggled and shrugged. It was mean and her doing the whole organising thing without his permission but at least it gave him options. “You can say no and go on your merry way. But …” She shrugged letting the thought stray off.

"I guess we'll see what the good Captain has to say first." Owen nodded towards the bar. "Now, do you want a real drink or would you rather concoct some other way to make me earn my keep?"

Elara just grinned at him. "Real drink sounds good and then we can concoct more ways." She declared easily. How else was she going to keep new friends on the ship if she did not be bold and daring.