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You head towards the Security Central.
Security Central
Unlike most of the rest of the complex, the security offices are designed for ease of use rather than aesthetics. Wood paneled walls and marble floors are not to be found here. Brushed steel and plate flooring take their place. The acoustics in this room are designed to muffle sound, so despite the metal flooring and the constant coming and going of security personnel, the area does not quite achieve a cacophonous state. A large bank of monitors takes up the bulk of the east wall. On each is displayed video from various security cameras as well as information garnered from customs and immigration. It is from here that security can keep an eye on most everything that happens in the Complex. There are always at least two uniformed guards on duty with nothing to do except watch the monitors. A broad desk is located near the entrance, with an officer present to handle queries.
Three arched doors lead from this area. One to the brig, one to private
offices, and the third to the elevator lobby.
Obvious exits:
Chief's Office Brig Elevator Lounge
You walk towards Chief Addison's Office.
Chief Addison's Office
This office is something of a haven from the chaos in security central. It only
has one viewscreen, although there are controls to direct it to any of the
observation lines. A large desk takes up the bulk of the room. It's a
battered affair, and shows the signs of great age. It doesn't really fit in
with the polished atmosphere of the Complex, but neither does the man it
belongs to. Piles of paperwork, scattered datapads, and a lurking terminal
take up the majority of the space on the desk, but somehow room has been
found for several photocubes and a small plastic penguin. The floor is
carpeted in institutional gray carpeting, and the walls are a slightly darker
shade. It would be a dank hole of a room if it weren't for several large
electronic maps on the wall, each aglow with various telltales and marker
lights. In front of the desk are two uncomfortable chairs and one battered
and exceedingly comfortable looking couch. A handful of bad noveldisks are
piled at one end of the couch.
Contents:
Riley
Obvious exits:
Central
You walk here from the Security Central.
Riley has the chair tilted back when you enter, his feet up on the desk, scattering paperwork. As you enter he pulls his feet down, setting the datapad he was working on on the desk. "That'd be me, unless I've gotten confused again. It's been known to happen. Can I help you?"
Niko's bushy eyebrows lift just a bit, but he straightens nonetheless.
"Actually, sir, it's the other way around." He fumbles in a pocket for a
moment, then offers a neatly folded piece of paper. With a small grimace for
the mouthful, he introduces himself. "Iolytus Nikolaos Casymed, sir. I've
been placed under your command."
Standing in one motion, Riley leans forward to accept the paper. Scanning it
quickly, he nods amiably, offering a hand. "Nice to meet you Mr." There's the
barest hint of a pause, "Casymed. Welcome to the Loony-Bin. Who'd you offend
to get chunked here?"
Niko moves to shake the offered hand, lips quirking. "I'm not sure that I offended anyone, sir. Should I have, that I'm here?"
Riley gestures to one of the brightly-lit map boards, a full dozen emergency
codes blinking. "Give it a week, and then you tell me." He gestures to one of
the chairs, then taking his own. "We've got scads of whiny diplomats and
their hangers on, traders, you name it, it's within a five mile radius. It's
never dull." This last is accompanied with a cheerful grin. Moving to his
terminal he begins tabbing keys, comapring data against the paper. "Let's get
you into the system."
Niko turns to squint at the board, then flicks a glance over his shoulder to the central security area. "Shouldn't something be done about those?" he asks, head nodding towards the board to indicate the emergency codes.
Riley glances back at the map, "Ahh, of those dozen or so, nine of them are
from diplomats who don't like their quarters, are annoyed So and So from
plant such and such walked -too- close to them, one is -always- blinking,
it's Ambassador Lexington's quarters, who knows what he wants to whine about
this time, and the other two are being handled. It's all a matter of
realizing who likes to abuse priority codes and who doesn't. What size do you
wear?"
Niko absently rattles off his sizes, still frowning a bit over the map boards.
"Sounds enthralling," he adds, perhaps a bit dryly, as he finally turns his
attention back to you.
Riley climbs to his feet, padding to a cabinet on the wall. Placing his hand on a palm scanner the cabinet opens, revealing a full scale com unit and supply port. Giving the latter a swift kick he taps in various figures. With a disgrunted hiccuping sound the port coughs up two plas boxes. Riley returns, offering these boxes to you. "Regular uniform and the Itchy-Scratchy one. I'm afraid the diplomats picked them, they look ridiculous. You can order more from supply if you decide not to try and transfer out." He adds a small comm-unit to the top of the pile. "That's got your codes in it. Lose it and they do obscene and nasty things to you involving never having kids again."
Niko's eyebrows really are having the most fun tonight, randomly moving up and down. It's like the caterpillars suddenly got very itchy. The upswing is at the mention of transferring out, and the downswing is, naturally, at the obscene and nasty things. "I'll be sure not to lose it, sir," he says quickly. A faint grin crosses his face, almost imperceptably, and then he adds, quite calmly, "I don't think I'll be transferring, though."
Riley pauses to regard you a long moment, his rather randomly colored eyes
locked in an expression of appraisal. "Maybe you won't. A lot of folks do, so
I've given up worrying about it til after they're here a week or so." He
returns to the supply port, kicking it again. This time he's a little more
gentle and the port seems to appreciate it, as it only whines slightly as it
discharges a lucite box. Riley returns with it and a scanner from the closet,
"Palm and retina prints please?"
Niko goes through the appropriate procedures, not batting an eyelash. Well, no,
he does bat a few after the retina print bit. "Do you need anything else,
sir?" he inquires, drawing back up to the upright posture that's only about a
hair away from attention.
Riley does some random figuring, hooking the scanner and the lucite box up to
the terminal. After a few beeps he reaches to open the box, revealing a
rather nasty looking little sidearm. It's all sleek snub nosed plasteel, and
unlike the uniforms it does really look like it means buisness. "Standard
issue nerve tangler. Another thing for you to hold onto. It also has a
setting to make it a plasma bolter, but -please- unless you have some
insanely good reason, leave it on tangle. A lot of times things get real
chaotic and we do a lot of shooting first and asking questions later. And
folks aren't real good at answering questions with a plasma burn through the
heart." He pauses, "I think that's it. In a hurry?"
Niko shakes his head quickly, after a long look at the weapon. "Of course not,
sir. I'm at your disposal." He looks for a moment as if he's going to add
something else, then shakes his head once more.
Riley regards you with a look of mild consternation, his chocolate colored eyebrows lifted. "What is it Mr. ... Casymed, please spit it out."
Niko shakes his head once more. "Nothing, sir. It's just been a long
day--travel and all." After a fractional pause and a faint, wry smile, he
adds, "And if you find my name difficult, I'm amenable to abbreviations and
such. Fortunately for anyone who's ever known me, I don't go by my first name
anyway."
You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.
Riley nods in amiable understanding, "Most folks tend to go by first names in
this department, but I'm not sure that yours'll get picked up. I generally
get adressed as 'Chief', without all the sirring and random tacking on of
names. Although there's a contingent that calls me rat ba...ahh anyway. Why
don't you head on upstairs and get settled. Catch me tomorrow and we'll get
you set up on a shift schedule and we'll see about the tour. Might as well
see what you're getting into."
Niko inclines his head, with a faint grin to acknowledge the contingent who is apparently a fan of illegitimate rodents for their nomenclature. "Yes, s--Chief. Though if there was anything you needed me to do tonight, I'm up for it. Really. The trip wasn't that long." Eager, isn't he? How cute.
Riley regards you a moment, trying to figure out how you managed to take a long trip and end up un-rumpled. "That's okay, whatever the heck we're going to call you. Go home, get some sleep. You'll need it for tomorrow."
Niko stood the entire trip? Or maybe he's got a portable iron somewhere in his luggage. Or maybe it's just nifty cloth that will not wrinkle, no matter how much you try. "Niko," he suggests. "Or Nick, for whatever you're going to call me. Or," he adds, with a wry grin, "Hugh. As for home, that does bring up a question, Chief. Where, exactly, will I be staying?"
Riley pauses a moment, brows dropped, "Niko and Nick I followed. I don't want to know why Hugh is acceptable, do I?" He pauses, "But I -have- to ask, why Hugh?" At the last question he turns to his terminal, "Third floor with the rest of station personel. Gimme a moment and I'll find your number."
Niko's tone is rather droll. "Well, Chief, Hugh comes out a little more quickly
than 'Hey, you,' after all." With a shake of his head, he adds, "My CO
thought it was amusing. It was better than some of the things she could have
called me."
Riley hmphs softly in wry amusment, "I think I'll stick to Niko. I have an
Uncle Hugh, he has quite the thing for mead. The mental image is all wrong."
The terminal coughs up a suitable response, "You're in room N13 on the third
floor."
Niko, with an amiable nod, repeats, "N13, on the third floor. Thanks, Chief. Is there a time tomorrow that will be more convenient for you?"
Riley pauses to consider this a moment, "Sometime after the lunch hour. I work
a canted shift, there's less activity in the mornings. The diplomats sleep
in. I'm afraid it really depends on what particular insanity's hit and when.
Just give the office a comm when you're free and I'll get to you as soon as I
can."
Niko, nodding once more, says pleasantly, "I'll catch you when I can, sir." Ah,
look, that one slipped out before he could catch it. He looks briefly
abashed, murmuring something about habit, then adds, "I look forward to
working with you."
Riley does not bother to restrain a soft snicker, "The things you may look back
on and laugh at yourself... Have a pleasant evening, Niko. I'll see you
tomorrow."
Niko's eyebrows lift at that, but he doesn't comment, instead picking up on the tacit dismissal and heading for the exit. "Good evening, Chief. See you tomorrow." With that, and a final nod, he finally does leave.
You walk towards the Security Central.