2024-08-31: Debts

• Log: Debts
• Cast: Eight Orlodhari, Tavelle Adzvin
• Where: Ra Mari II Hangar
• OOC - IC Date: August 31, 0099
• Summary: Tavelle Adzvin finally gets a chance to talk with the person in charge on the ship--and Eight Orlodhari has a few questions for her.

---

<Pose Tracker> Eight Orlodhari has posed.

The Ra Mari II has been very busy, in the hours since the world was broken. There's been no time for the Admiral to come and meet a stranger at first; she had to negotiate with Captain Talia Gladys and NUNE to get a route home that wasn't just 'exit, pursued by a fleet'.

Tavelle's been welcome to hang out in the hangar, though; it's busy, but there's space for her unit. They offered to at least help her get it into a bay, but haven't tried or offered to repair it for her yet; that's up to the authorities.

But eventually, in the little hours, Eight has some free time. Captain Maina can handle things from here; the ship is headed to space by way of Orb, and Eight walks her way, still in uniform, into the hangar. Techs and pilots stop to salute her and she nods crisply to each with her own salute in turn.

She'll arrive momentarily! Tavelle has been offered limited but nourishing refreshments, and given a place to sit down near her unit. If she really wants, she can go into a room off the hangar. But wherever she is, Eight Orlodhari approaches.

<Pose Tracker> Tavelle Adzvin has posed.

The world was broken.

It isn't Tavelle's world, but it still hits pretty hard. Even if Tavelle isn't sure *why* it hits her as hard as it does. Part of it is that she's picking up the rest of the crew's emotions, whether she wants to or not, but part of it is -

She still doesn't understand it.

Tavelle accepted the help getting it into a bay, though it still had enough ability to move that it took a minimal amount of help; the problem it had was that the Lestrail is neither atmospheric-flight capable nor built to survive a reentry, and when it isn't trying to do any of those things it is a sturdy, reliable unit.

It still looks weird. It's about as tall as a MS - 17 meters maybe? 18? - but longer, with a tail that Tavelle has brought in and curled so it doesn't stick out of the bay and get in someone's way. The rest of the body is... different than a lot of local gear, with odd-looking hands and a backpack that previously held a fan of remote weapons but is now empty. It matches nothing else around here.

Tavelle, on the other hand, looks perfectly normal - like a random teenager you met on the street. She looks about seventeen years old with curly, slightly messy pale green hair, somewhat heavyset, wearing a flight suit that looks utilitarian, dark grey with blue accents close to the colour of the Lestrail, with a reinforced breastplate-like fit. It might be flattering on some people; it is not especially on her.

She came out of the Lestrail overheated, drank several glasses worth of water without stopping, and used one to try to wipe her face, which didn't entirely work; she still looks a little sweaty even after all that time. But she's stayed near her unit, aside from one trip to what she referred to as 'the necessaries' until she was misunderstood (bad translation, Tavelle figured) and corrected that to 'point me at the bathroom before I explode', with about that level of tact.

Tavelle looks at the approaching Admiral. She rises, slightly; Tavelle is graceful in microgravity, but she has no reason to salute and so doesn't. She looks somewhere between challenging and worried.

<Pose Tracker> Eight Orlodhari has posed.

Most of the others don't understand, either; the prevailing emotions are shock and dismay--tinged with relief to be alive, to be free and heading home. Tavelle will see among those who walk the hangar many macronized Zentradi and Meltrandi, though there's also chambers where they shrink down to human size now that the battles are over. Some of them--and some of the humans--peered curiously at Tavelle's unit, but nobody has shown more than curiousity yet.

Eight has some of that wonder herself, looking up at it on her way over. She doesn't really expect most people to be flattered by pilot suits after a night like this, of course.

...the restroom off the hangar at least is easy to find.

When Tavelle rises, Eight nods, and comes to a stop. "So, you're the stranger who helped us out, hm? ...I reviewed the tapes. I recognize your voice, too. You were on Magallanica before, weren't you?"

A pause.

"Well, before I try to ask you questions, I'll introduce myself. I'm Eight Orlodhari. I'm in charge around here. To be clear..."

"You're not a prisoner. But I do have questions, before I decide what happens next."

<Pose Tracker> Tavelle Adzvin has posed.

Tavelle stays very far away from the Zentredi. Some of *them*, if they're old enough, might actually recognize the Lestrail, as the unmodified version is used extensively as a mass-produced unit... in the Zuvorg homeland, not here. This one clearly has had a lot of modifications done to it, but it's still all on a Lestrail frame in the end.

But she doesn't want to talk to them. They make her more uncomfortable; she's more on edge when they're around, and less when it's just humans, or at least people she can't identify as not human. Is she Blue Cosmos? (Though it's not like Coordinators cause the same concern, that may not be obvious...)

Eight approaches, and... Busted!

"That's me," Tavelle agrees. "I helped you out. I figure you owe me, a little, for that, both tonight and before... but I owe you a lot, for this." She waves one hand at the bay. "I didn't expect you to recognize me. ...Don't worry. I left that unit behind, on Magallanica." She means the Zectar, and indeed she didn't steal it, so aside from being goose-egged they didn't lose anything they wouldn't if it had remained in the hands of its actual colony defense pilot.

Tavelle moves as if she was going to stick her hands in her pockets but, of course, her flight suit doesn't have pockets in the same place as her pants and she mostly just looks like she's not certain what to do with her hands for a moment. "Tavelle," she adds, after a few awkward moments. "Tavelle Adzvin; that's me. And I'd *better* not be a prisoner. Once we're in space you can just ditch me and forget all about me, if you want; I can get around once I can maneuver."

Tavelle may be overstating it a bit. Her Lestrail is pretty battle-damaged, most obviously missing one of its legs.

<Pose Tracker> Eight Orlodhari has posed.

If any of them recognize, they don't say so--but Tavelle might notice that one looks a little more knowing than just curious. Mostly, though, they're young; first-generation natural-born, from the Macross Fleets.

Eight doesn't have Tavelle being watched beyond basic security keeping an eye on a stranger, so she won't know her discomfort at all. She does listen. "You did," Eight agrees. "One good turn deserves another. I agree with that." A pause. "I heard. Other than the eggs, it was fine. I appreciate that; those things are expensive."

No pockets! "Nah, we have no reason to keep you. Though I don't want to just drop you into space, either." Shec onsiders. "Tell you what."

"As our 'thanks', we'll give you access to our facilities and resources to make repairs. If you want an engineer it'll take longer until we can spare one. And I'll give you a place to sleep until we get back to port."

"We're heading for Orb first; you can get off there, or you can wait until we get to Magallanica."

"...We are a military ship, though. So I'd like to know where you came from. I don't recognize this unit at all, and we don't see a lot of independent operators of mobile suits. So I assume you're with someone."

<Pose Tracker> Tavelle Adzvin has posed.

Zectars are real cheap by the standards of MSs but they're still not exactly pocket change, unless you're rich. Tavelle, who has been salvaging all her own gear, is very aware of this these days.

"No kidding," Tavelle says. "You're on your own for the eggs though. I got hit and that was bad enough. I'm not coming back to clean up a Zectar." She lets out a puff of hair aimed upward, just enough to ruffle some of her hair.

Eight makes her an offer, though. "Deal," she says, immediately. "I don't need an engineer, and I'd rather do it myself anyway. I put this thing back together mostly on my own." She'd pat the Lestrail if it was in arms' reach; unfortunately, it's a bit far for that, but she does gesture at it.

Orb, Tavelle knows where it is - an island chain on Earth. She's never been. But if she gets down there, she's not sure how she'll get her Lestrail off... she'd need to call for help. "I'd like to visit Earth but carting my unit around down there might be a little hard. So let me think about that one while you're in transit."

Tavelle's lips purse as she decides how much to answer. Her first instinct is to give away nothing without exchange - what can she get out of this deal? Her second instinct is pointing out that, like when she tagged along with the Yaman Rebellion, she can probably get more by being cooperative and friendly... and she's still a little off balance from the emotional turmoil on the ship.

"I'm a salvager," she says, after a few long moments. "Scrapper. Or Vulture, I guess, but a lot of people don't like that one. That's why I was on Magallanica too. It's a construction colony, right? In space? Some of that stuff is salvaged from wrecks, or asteroids that aren't big enough to put a big mining colony on but an independent will dig out and sell."

She's half right, at least; the last is less common in the Earth Sphere than it is at 'home'. And that's really not much of an explanation as to who she works with! Tavelle presses on anyway: "Do you regularly bail out random pilots? I thought you were colony defense, not out here."

<Pose Tracker> Eight Orlodhari has posed.

"Heh." The eggs. That's... Well, Eight's not going to dwell on it. She doesn't really expect Tavelle to do so anyway.

At the deal, "Good," she says. "That's impressive, then. There will be areas you're not allowed to go, but the basic depots will have what you need unless it's exotic--if it is, ask the tech on duty."

"Sure. Think away. You've got some time."

Eight can tell Tavelle is thinking about it, of course. She clearly has reasons to keep secret, and knows more than she's saying. But...

"Hmm." A salvager. It might even be the whole story. "It is," she agrees. "All right then. That explains a few things."

Not all of the things. But Eight plays that close to the vest for now, herself.

"You're obviously not NUNE," she says, "So that's good enough for me. They're escorting us off-world; we'll shield you long enough to get to Magallanica."

The question, though? "Yes," Eight says simply, because it's become a habit by now. "We rescue people when they need it. I consider that a basic duty of operating a large enough ship around other people. ...But we don't always give them access to our facilities, of course. We are colony defense, but a mission like this..."

"Well, an attack like this threatens Earth as a whole. Helping was the right thing to do, in our jurisdiction or not."

<Pose Tracker> Tavelle Adzvin has posed.

"Well, you're not going to have any armour plates the right shape without some serious work, so I'll do what I can." Tavelle can, of course, make them - but that takes more time than she might be on the ship for, depending. "Nothing real exotic that needs to be replaced, though."

Except the Bladers. How is she going to replace those? And there's some parts *inside* that she'd rather not show off, but - mostly they're still okay.

Tavelle lets out a snort. "I'm sure not NUNE. I've run into them before and that was enough for me. But I'm not wanted or anything." Or at least probably; Tavelle would be real surprised if they had her name and face, though.

She considers Eight for another few moments - of course they rescue people, of course they came to the defense of the home planet - and then nods, more to herself than Eight. "I got a question for you, too, since we're all asking each other. You might not know the answer."

Tavelle fusses for a moment before asking, directly: "Did you see some of the units that were near the broken meteor-colony? The PLANT?" Tavelle forgot which one it was for a moment - Junius Seven, she remembers now. "The E-Bits, and some machines derived from them. Do you know what those are?"

Eight was otherwise occupied at the time, but Rena was in Tavelle's transmission, and Tavelle saw the Gaia Gear again later - she knows what ship it belongs to, especially after she was rescued by Anita. She doubts Eight knows anything, but... she has to ask.

<Pose Tracker> Eight Orlodhari has posed.

"Fair enough."

Eight isn't that concerned about taking advantage of new technology; Nergal would almost certainly rather she insist on investigating the unit, but that's just now how she operates. Instead, she listens to Tavelle. "Heh. Well, NUNE isn't exactly fond of us," she admits, "As you may have heard on the comms. So I'm not sure I can say the same these days." Of not being wanted.

"hm?"

The answer... Hmm. Those units. "...Some," she says. "I don't know the details, but I know we've seen them before. The 'Company' that makes them tried to recruit one of my Captains." It's technically not common information she'ss giving out--but Eight thinks she might get something more out of Tavelle if she offers it, and it's not terribly sensitive.

"They're very powerful, and apparently can operate with very little experience on the pilot's part..."

"But who the Company really is? They didn't reveal that."

"Do you?"

<Pose Tracker> Tavelle Adzvin has posed.

"They're *recruiting*?"

Tavelle shouldn't be surprised. They tried to hire *her* right during Break the World, or at least made her a job offer. They had that other pilot - Nicol, right, she remembers. But that they came here to do it before the colony drop is a bit of a surprise. How long have they been here?

Tavelle's brow furrows as she thinks, and Eight - who is perhaps less sensitive than she used to be, but is still a Cyber-Newtype - can feel a flash from Tavelle. A flicker of something, a moment of connection -

Tavelle is lying, and suddenly much tenser than she was before, when she says, "I know them a little."

She is still hiding things when she continues: "They're a private military company. I don't know why they're here or what they want. I want to. They don't do *anything* without a reason and a payout." Because she's like them, the traitorous part of her mind reminds her, and she stomps that down.

But even though Tavelle is a good liar, there's enough of a connection there - if Eight can feel it - that makes the untruth and deception ring in her voice. And Tavelle seems to know it - to feel it too, judging by the sudden dismay in her expression.

<Pose Tracker> Eight Orlodhari has posed.

There. Eight suspected she knew more--and now she's certain of it, insight occuring to her in a flash, as that connection tells her that Tavelle is lying. More to the point, it seems that Tavelle knows it too.

She knows them a little. No, she knows a lot. Tavelle can feel through that same connection that Eight sees it--and she can see the way that Eight doesn't flinch. She remains calm, certain...

And doesn't blink.

"I see," she says. "They do seem to be after profit above all. That matches what I've seen of them."

Tavelle is a good liar, but Eight has learned a lot about intelligence from her position and her history, and she does have that connection.

"But you know more than that," she says, firmly, "And I need to know it too. I won't hold against you what you know, but they just helped kill a lot of people."

<Pose Tracker> Tavelle Adzvin has posed.

Tavelle feels like a Newtype, but she lacks the words to explain - or understand - exactly why she feels what she feels, and so her reaction to being caught out is dismay and surprise. And it's not helped by the feeling that she still owes Eight and her ship, and more, that some people she knows would really like to talk to her.

"...fine," Tavelle gets out. "Fine! I'll tell you more, on two conditions. One, you're not going to change the deal from before. I still get to go when we get back to space, or Orb, whichever; you're not going to hold me here, whatever I tell you."

"Two, you answer this first. What's your issue with NUNE? Why don't you like them and why don't they like you?" Tavelle's posture is more challenging, inasmuch as she can manage it - which isn't much; she's not great at 'intimidating'. She doesn't have any experience doing it, even with people who *can't* feel her. So it comes off a bit more like 'teenage sullenness' or 'rebellion'.

Sorry, Eight. You are a mother now. This is something you might have to deal with in a dozen years *all the time*.

<Pose Tracker> Eight Orlodhari has posed.

Maybe Eight could be the one to explain how that works. But it doesn't look likely at the moment.

Instead, when Tavelle says 'fine', Eight continues to wait and listen; she doesn't actually nod until after the second condition. It's hard to challenge Eight in physical intimidation for most people; Tavelle at the moment is not most people.

One day, Eight will deal with just that. At least twice over.

"Conditions accepted," Eight answers simply. That easy. But the actual question...

"NUNE is not showing a promising future on human rights issues," Eight begins to explain. "I've seen data that they'd rather kill hostages than have their enemies recover them, for one. And I was a noted rebel against their predecessor--the Earth Federation. I and some other ship Captains chose to stand against them when they tried to invade Orb... and for longer, after that."

"Officially, we've been pardoned, and the government we rebelled against doesn't exist anymore. Unofficially, they don't trust that Magallanica is a state that isn't under their control, and they don't trust me."

"That's the short version, anyway. I and Magallanica's leaders have no intention of submitting to NUNE's jurisdiction... so they don't like us much."

Eight may not be as smooth about it when it's her teenagers, though...

<Pose Tracker> Tavelle Adzvin has posed.

Tavelle flinches at 'kill hostages instead of recover them', because despite her occasionally picking profit over ethics, she's not *that* ...pragmatic. Or ruthless. Depending on how you read it. She just puts herself first... most of the time.

"So you're a rebel. But one they let exist." Tavelle takes in fact, and though what she gets out of them isn't always accurate. "And you're gonna keep it that way." Tavelle is still thinking hard. She wishes she had more than a few seconds to make up her mind. She wishes it wasn't her in this situation! Who'd pick her for diplomat?

"Okay. So, first off, don't get mad." Tavelle holds up her hands. "I lied. I mean, I didn't lie; I really am a salvager, I really did fix up the Lestrail," so that's what that's called, "all that's true. But I didn't say where I'm from."

"I'm an alien. We call ourselves 'Zuvorg', that's the name of our system, like you guys are all from Sol." Tavelle says the word a little quickly, in an accent that isn't quite English, swallowing the last consonant a little; it's not quite clear whether she said 'Zuvorg' or 'Zuvork' or something in between. "Except you haven't gotten out far enough so you're mostly the Earth Sphere, but, same idea. The Zuvorg homeland is Zuvorg, though it's a republic with other systems - ANYWAY." She's getting off track.

"Some parts of the Zuvorg Alliance, the interstellar union, are less... uh, unified than others, because of arms dealers. Like your Anaheim. Don't look surprised I know that; I came here as a stowaway on Neo-Britannia, I know who Anaheim is." Tavelle pauses. "Was. Anyway, I think there's some other Zuvorg here. Well, no, I know there is."

"The Company - " Tavelle looks frustrated. "Let's just keep calling them that because their actual name is real long and I'd have to translate it, but they're an interstellar private military company. Like the ones on Earth, just bigger. Anyway, they're *not* Zuvorg; they're from a different part of space. But if they're here, they want something and if they're part of that attack they think they got it. They don't do anything without someone paying the bill. And they're in conflict with some of those other Zuvorg dealers."

"So if this place is going to turn into a battlefield because of them, I kind of want to know. And I kind of want to know what they're up to, anyway, because... well, because."

Tavelle looks straight at Eight. Does she believe this? It's kind of outlandish; Tavelle is trying to get a feel for how it landed.

<Pose Tracker> Eight Orlodhari has posed.

Eight doesn't flinch, but she appreciates that Tavelle does. That says something about her moral code, insofar as she has one; it says she doesn't approve of killing people that way.

"Right," Eight confirms. "We fully intend to keep it that way."

But... Don't get mad? Eight lifts an eyebrow, and promises nothing. But, she listens, and she indeed didn't say where she was from. Eight recalls that.

Eight isn't going to mention that there are humans on Jupiter's moons. She's under NDA, after all. But it's not really relevant for the moment; they are indeed mostly the Earth Sphere.

"I see," she says. "Zuvorg..."

She listens, and looks thoughtful. That brief bond is likely gone by now, but Eight makes no effort to hide her feelings on this matter. It's pretty big.

"Arms dealers. It's the same wherever you go, I suppose."

"All right," she says. "...I'll tell you a few things in return. So that you understand why I believe you."

"My husband's an alien." She lifts her left hand; the rings there are the usual configuration for marriage on Earth. Whether the Zuvorg have the same traditions, she doesn't know.

"He's one of the Zentradi. Our people made peace with them decades ago, after a bloody war. So I know that there are other people out there besides Earth humans, and I know that how we react to them is up to us and them both."

"I'm interested in stopping this... Company's ambitions. If whatever they want involves mass murder, then I'm sure it isn't something we want." She pauses. "So, separate deal. If your people in the area have a leader of some kind, I'd like you to put me in touch with them. I'd like to know a lot more, frankly. And it seems to me that we have a common enemy."

"...That's it. Whether you agree to put me in touch with someone or not, our previous deal stands. And I can't guarantee that we'll be able to work with your people without knowing anything about who they are. But I'm willing to listen, if they're willing to talk."

"...In return, I'll tell you this. I have interests beyond just Magallanica. I said that helping Earth was the right thing to do regardless of jurisdiction. This isn't the first or the last time I intend to get involved."

<Pose Tracker> Tavelle Adzvin has posed.

Tavelle did say 'mostly' in the Earth Sphere... even though she was thinking about the long-range ships, like - well, like Neo-Britannia, even though that's barely a ship in the normal sense.

Their connection may have been gone, but plain old talking still works.

"I knew about the Zentredi, but it's so weird that you can talk to them!" Tavelle shakes her head. "Before my time, but Zentredi are just ..." She realizes she is about to say 'violent brutes' to someone who has just claimed to be married to one, and trails off awkwardly, her cheeks pinkening despite all she can try to stop them.

She seizes onto the Company like it was a liferaft, which was a sentence she would never have put together even a couple minutes ago. "Like I said, I have no idea what they want. But if they're helping something like this they must have something. Maybe they just wanted the Distortion Field," Tavelle says, with a shrug. "I've seen gravity manipulation before, but not like that. It's not like they really care about Earth," she says, possibly inaccurately.

Eight makes an offer of her own. Tavelle's eyes narrow - not in suspicion, she's just thinking. "I can try," she says, after a moment. "They're not really my 'boss', I guess. I'm a freelance mechanic." She has other reasons to be interested in Pentagona. "But I can ask them, sure. No guarantees what they'll say; they might not want to come. But I'll tell you this: One of them was also at the drop, with me. So I think some of them might at least listen if you're saying stuff like that, and mean it."

She sticks her hand out. Some body language doesn't match, between Zuvorg and Earth. That one, apparently, does.

<Pose Tracker> Eight Orlodhari has posed.

"Heh. I know from the history they've told me--the Zentradi haven't done a lot of 'talking' to other species. They didn't with us, at first, either. It's... a long story. My husband's parents were in that war--but he wasn't, he grew up in the Earth Sphere."

Eight doesn't mind. She likes talking about Lavhi.

But the Company--"Hmmm. I don't know," she admits. "There's too much we don't know right now."

And that's exactly why Eight makes that offer. So, when Tavelle is thinking, Eight regards her, waits. "Makes sense. I appreciate the effort." A pause. One of their leaders was at the drop... Hmm. "All right then."

Eight extends her hand, and shakes Tavelle's. She's strong, but doesn't try to overpower.

"It's more than I knew ten minutes ago, so that's good for me. I'll let the chiefs know you're allowed to use the depots and our tools, and I'll have a room assigned to you. I wouldn't recommend sleeping in the hangar--and it's going to be a day or so before we're back in Magallanica."

"It's good to meet you, Miss Advvin. And, well... If no one else has said it..."

"Welcome to the Earth Sphere. I hope our peoples can be friends."

<Pose Tracker> Tavelle Adzvin has posed.

Tavelle is still a little suspicious of Lahvi, but he's not here, so it's not like it's a problem.

Tav's grip is exactly what you'd expect. She really could just be a teenager you met in any Earth Sphere city, though her ability to maneuver in microgravity suggests more 'Spacenoid' than 'Earthnoid'. She doesn't try to push it and is very glad Eight also did not.

"Here's hoping," she says, and - to her own surprise - finds that she means it.