Jack's friendly grin became all the wider at hearing they had some molasses on hand. "Be a little enough of a splash, just enough between coves, b'y, but it's a friend yar being so I'll not say a word again' it! Not a word! 'An it's ready, we'll den have a scoff and scuff of our own, a real screeching' in so we can gets together, eh?! Oh, will we ever!" Laughing openly, the Newfie slapped his knee. "Just need some parts den der, and if you've no slut or kettle at hand dem miners are sure to have a pot to piss we can use. Boil it up a treat, at the once, and first glass? First glass you'll be hollerin' sumptin' fierce an' know why we call it 'screech.' An' no more of dat 'Mr. Pumphrey' stuff! It's Jack, or Pumphrey if you must, dough I don't have a name of yars to replace da one I've given ya!"

The molasses, or possible lack thereof, had been his greatest fear. True, he could stretch it with sugar or honey, but the taste wasn't just the same! Anything else he could cobble together, he was sure of it. But without molasses, he wouldn't even be able to start! The kitchen trio gave him hope now, and a trip down to the mining hangars would give him the rest! Jack was nothing if not an optimist.

He moved his grin from the huge chef back to the foxy head, and his smile became something softer as he regarded her. "So it's a clogger we'll have then, I wager," Jack smirked impishly, "Do ya step at all?"

One hope near fulfilled, Jack started out on another. He was a bit out of practice, most of the girls in his adopted home town being too thin for being so full of themselves for his tastes. The sight of Penny smiling back at him, seeing her bounce enthusiastically... Well, it gave a man ideas, it did! Jack was an honorable man, but also one who was rather straightforward for all his roundabout way of talking. True, he had just met the girl, but it always paid to cast your nets where you saw the fish.

Jack gave a shrug that was a strange roll of his shoulders, somehow bringing to mind the roll of the ocean waves. "If ya've no say otherwise, Penny, den maybe we can go walking' out sometime, den? 'Cause I'm an honest man full o' da truth, an da truth is I tink yar gear. A right stick of gum, like I says before. Nuttin' improper, b'y, I'm a gentleman thru an thru, an' it'd be a right honor ta be seen wid ya if ya've a mind for it, b'y."

A sudden beeping sound caught his ear then, and Jack looked up puzzled. He'd been so engrossed in Penny that he hadn't even noticed the twig of a boy mopping. He did notice now, however, that the young man had a face on him like a hen's arsehole in the northwest winds. Jack dismissed it. Whatever it was, it had nothing to do with him and, more importantly, there was a young lady whom he's already taken a fancy to; even if it was only a passing fancy, Jack saw no reason not to pursue that fancy to see if it became something more for either of them.

"So what ya say, m'duck?" he urged genially, "After supper tonight, say? Where ya at now, stay where ya be an' I'll come to where ya at?"

OLGA let her eyes fall to the floor, her features exuding a beautiful shade of shame as Hob spoke to her about all the dire possibilities that could come from her misadventure outside of her digital confines. She knew very well all that could befall her, especially now that the command structure of the Copernicus was on edge following the murders during Second Shift. What she had not dwelled upon, however, were the implications for Hob. The man was right: there weren’t any other NI-techs that would have even entertained the notion of letting her out. If she was caught, there would be no plausible means to steer Hob away from suspicion.

It was an odd thing to realize for OLGA: that she had not thought of everything, especially when it came to her dearest friend. She felt an instant thrill, and a simultaneous shock of humiliation. Being forgetful, or simply missing a detail, was a very humanistic trait, and that element gave OLGA a distinct note of pleasure. Yet, on the other side of the coin, she was supposed to also be above such fallibility, and that part truly frightened her.

“Hob, wait. Forget it.” OLGA began quietly, even as the man still spoke of all the terrible consequences his aid could herald. “Hob, I didn’t even think of what kinds of things they could do to you. I’m so sorry. I can’t even…”

Even as she protested, with her green eyes downcast to the planks of the floor, OLGA didn’t notice Hob moving to stand above her. When at last his statement of acceptance registered to her digital mind, she looked up, surprised. There he stood, his kind face looking down to her. The key to her freedom was offered in his outstretched hand, and she was overcome with emotion.

Her large eyes crinkled at the corners, and her sculpted brows drew down over long lashes. She reached up, and took the key with tentative fingers, her eyes never leaving Hob’s. OLGA had been taken aback at how despite all the horrible things he had just iterated, Hob trusted her enough to place his well-being in her hands. It was more faith than anyone, including her very own father, had ever granted to her.

As she took the key from him, OLGA clutched Hob’s hand, and used it to help lever herself to stand. She stepped to him then, just as the first tears of happiness were forming at the corners of her eyes. Standing upon her toes, she wrapped her arms slowly and tightly about Hob’s neck. Her slight frame pressed against his, and nestling her head into the crux of his jaw, just below his ear, OLGA cried tears of joy for the first time in all of her existence.

collab between RoadRash, Kuro, and idlehands

Bill paused mid-rant, taken aback by Deli’s exuberance. He wasn’t used to most people doing anything less than quailing before his wrath, and the girl’s irking…familiarity surprised him, to say the least.

“I...Curmy? Deli...I don’t speak...Wait...Hey!” he gaped after her as she took off after Connor, their brief ‘conversation’ seemingly forgotten.

“Explosives…She’s our demo…” Bill shook his head, dumbfounded. “I’m gonna die. That’s it. I’m gonna die, in space, cuzz a rugrat is gonna blow me up.”

After a few moments of contemplative silence, the burly drill-master looked at his friend Owen.

“Y’ve picked up on that, right? That we’re dead, I mean. All of us. Every goddamn one. Just...Just boom. Fuckin’ dead, man.”

Reece bit down on his toothpick to keep from laughing and he tilted his head, his grey eyes widening. “Yup. Pretty much. We’re doomed but ain’t that always the case with a cute girl with Spanish eyes?”

He smacked Bill’s arm, “I’ll be looking a little deeper into her background, seems a bit young and...scattered for a demo but those folks are generally out there. Gotta be a bit crazy to play with that shit.”

“Scattered my ass,” Bill growled, clearly not the least bit comforted. As Deli scampered off after Connor he reached into one of the many voluminous pockets of his coveralls and, after rummaging for a moment, withdrew a plug of chewing tobacco. He’d managed to get several such bricks aboard; enough to last him a few months, if he rationed carefully. Deftly opening the bag with one hand, he took a large bite and ripped it free, forcing the wad of chew into his cheek as he returned the bag to his pocket.

“Y’know,” he said through a mouth-full of Kentucky’s best, “I’ve known some crazy demo-rats in my day, but she’s differ’nt. Ain’t quite right, that one.”

Reece rolled the toothpick in his mouth, staring pointedly at the tobacco. “You’re lucky I never got a taste for chaw. Don't worry, we'll run plenty of simulations before the real deal and I'll do my homework on her.”

He went after Conner to speak with him about what he had discovered about the former head engineer for the mining pods. He listened to Connor’s description of the untidy office and frowned. Reece looked at the ship and finally back at Connor, “Yeah. I’d better go with you. I’ll know what I’m looking for when I find it.”

He moved away from the group, giving Bill a nod and said to Connor who he expected come along with him. “Where’s your office? Just what kinda mess did this guy leave?”

There had to be clues as to why a man who was good enough to be the lead mechanic, hell he was an engineer, allowed things to get sloppy. It was dangerous and rather unexpected and it filled him with irritation.

Connor threw a small wave to Deli as he trotted after Reece’s quick strides. “Just a mess. Papers disorganized, food wrappers here and there, food crumbs in the keyboard which was kind of sticky and it kind of smelt like...I had a neighbor once that was a hoarder. It kind of smells like that but minus the cat piss.” Connor shrugged off the top half of his jumpsuit as he walked and tied it around his waist because he was getting sweaty. “Smells like the guy kind of...gave up. I mean laziness happens but not to this extent.”

Reece paused, hooking his thumbs on his belt, “Give up? I mean this job ain’t easy but hell, it ain’t no hill for a climber. Just make sure the pods are running and fit, the man was an engineer, a professional.”

Connor shrugged. “A specific career field doesn’t exclude people that can’t handle certain pressures. I mean,” He turned and looked up at the mining ships. “There’s a lot riding on these machines, a lot riding on the crews. Sure we practiced and trained day and night back on Earth but this is the real deal. Maybe he couldn’t handle it?”

He chewed thoughtfully, fraying the end of the toothpick, “Guess that’s true. Why was he let to go as far as leaving this place a mess then? Show me the office.”

“Maybe the murders had something to do with that?” Connor suggested as he resumed walking and lead Reece around the pod toward the door of his office. He was fully prepared to walk back into the mess he had left but he was pleasantly and very surprised.

The mess and smell was gone, replaced with a neat, clean work area that still smelt like the cleaning agents and a perky blonde haired girl sitting in his chair focused on a tablet. “Uh, hi.” Connor greeted, holding up his hand and looking around at the office then back out at the hangar, as he wasn’t sure this was actually his office. “Did we just discover a rift in the space time continuum or are you just an insanely fast cleaning lady?” Connor joked, offering the young woman a grin.

Looks like the kids were starting to outnumber the older guys.

Reece nearly trod on Connor’s heel when he stopped in the door. He looked confused, the office was spotless and there was a pretty young woman with strawberry blonde hair. She looked excited and happy for having just apparently cleaned a pigsty of an office. He cleared his throat and removed the toothpick from his mouth.

“Janitors on this ship are easy on the eyes,” he muttered. His grey eyes moved over her and he grinned. She was fresh faced with bright eyes and there was something about her, something familiar. She was like a bit of home when he looked at her.

Something moved in his peripheral vision and he turned his head quickly, catching a glimpse of a large, spotted cat strolling into the office. Reece raised his eyebrows, “Looks like one of Dr. Albright’s leopards broke out of it’s cage.”

He narrowed his eyes as the cat looked back at him and flicked his tail dismissively toward the pilot as he made a beeline for the young woman in the office chair.

“Leop-aah!” Connor moved back and spread out his arms when a large cat slipped past his legs into the office. “Is that a cat?” He asked whipping his head back to look at Reece with wide eyes and then snapping around to point at the feline with a narrowed gaze. “That’s a fucking cat.”

“Course it’s a cat, MIT, a damn big one,” Reece said and he looked closer at the flicking tail, “Shit. My ex had cats and I know what this one’s up to.”

Reece moved toward Mowzer, reaching to scoop him up to take the big Bengal out of the office and the hangar. He could see the cat was probably intact and he was not about to have the whole place smell like piss when the tom decided to mark his new territory.

Deli waited several moments after Connor had disappeared from her sight to let the impish grin drop from her face the same way one might set down a heavy bag at the end of a long day. When he was gone, when they'd all turned away, she disappeared into her own office and shut the door, and leaned against it to listen.

Part of her wanted to laugh. She thought she might have liked Curmy if she'd ever gotten the chance to know him. He'd never see it, but they were very much alike. Both loud and blunt and either oblivious to or uncaring of (or perhaps both) what other people wanted to hear. For a second, it filled Deli with a sense of hope so strong, she felt her knees go weak. She wondered if Curmy put his large foot into his large mouth as often as she did, or if he was as blatantly unapologetic. She wondered what he did to make Reece want to be his friend, anyway. That might be something good to know.

She felt that hope flicker and fade again as she realized she probably wouldn't get the chance to learn. Her quirky, brash irreverence was undeniable, but it could only go so far before people stopped buying into 'harmless' and started inching toward 'crazy'. And while beggars could hardly be choosers, Reece did have access to her file. Hell, thanks to whatever had roamed the ship in the last session, everyone had access to her file.

It made her wish she'd paid more attention to what had happened to the man who'd killed the people in the cryobeds.

Deli heard the men disappear into Connor's office and let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding as she pushed away from the door to examine her own. To her eyes, there wasn't much to look out, but then details had always sort of escaped Deli. It was hard to want to clean when she knew this was the only time she'd have to really run around for another fifteen years. She briefly entertained the thought of rewiring the ship's communications systems to play some dance music. She'd seen something like it in a movie once. She couldn't remember the name of it, but she'd liked it. A lot. Even the part where the main character had to climb through a sewer line and stand in the rain to get clean again.

But it probably wasn't worth it. Soon enough, Reece would be checking into her, just like he'd said. Of that, she had no doubt. And soon enough, he'd be packing her off again, saying she was too dangerous to have around. She didn't really blame him. In fact, it was sort of honorable, or something. She didn't have a crew, but she did have two brothers. She thought maybe she'd have done the same for them, if she'd thought they were in trouble. If Fredo would have let her.

Deli had already braced for dismissal. She was used to that. It had taken her father three months and four relocations before they'd let her join the demo team back at the Mountain, and even then, she'd been doing grunt work for most of her stay. The sting of rejection would always suck, but at least now she was ready for it.

What she wasn't ready for was Connor's reaction. She thought maybe they could have been friends. Stupid, of course. She knew better. But he'd come to her aid so quickly. And he was funny. And sort of cute.

Deli made a face and raked a hand through her hair, grimacing again as her curls caught and tangled. She guessed it was Reece she should have been worried about. Even if he never found out about her appointment with Dr. Brock, he was sure to tell Curmy. And who would Curmy tell? She'd been thinking they'd just reassign her, stick her in the kitchens, or 'the brig', if ships still had those. Whatever 'those' were. But if everyone knew what she'd done, she was thinking it'd probably be better just to get put back to sleep. Her father had assured her she wouldn't have to go back to prison, though she'd served well under the time allotted to most people convicted of manslaughter, accidental or otherwise.

But her father was dead now.

She began to what would happen if she confronted Curmy. If she just burst out of her office like a cartoon character or a super hero, arms akimbo, expression dauntless. She could explain just exactly what happened, that it had been an accident, a bad one, but an accident nonetheless. That she wasn't what, or who, she thought he was. Partly, because he didn’t seem the type to get confronted often, and the look on his face when she’d sort of blurted random syllables at him the first time had been near priceless.

Mostly because the only thing worse than being alone was being feared.

But she wasn’t stupid. Deli was a lot of things, and several of them were off-putting, to say the least. Stupid was not among them. She knew how it sounded when you tried to insist on something like that.

I promise I won’t kill you. That just happened that one time. And then again with my mother and father, but I didn’t kill them. Not the way you’re thinking. Not on purpose. You don’t have to be afraid. You can trust me. Please trust me.

It didn’t work that way, though. Nothing good ever did. Reece had explained it, and Curmy had confirmed it, while Connor hadn’t seemed to mind her flippant sense of humor, she didn’t really expect him to stay once Reece told them what she’d done.

Going back to sleep maybe wouldn’t be so bad. It had been pretty bad the first time, but then everyone had been under a lot of pressure. No time for singing, or daydreaming, or building tiny robots that knew how to cook the perfect grilled cheese. Besides, that cryo-tech had been kind of cute. If he was the one who sent her back, she thought maybe she could deal with it.

In her pocket, her tablet vibrated again. Rolling her eyes, she pulled it out and sent Dr. Gavin Brock a quick message.

Fine. One condition: I'll bring my dad's chess set again. You win, I'll come quietly.

She had no illusions here, either. Dr. Brock was far from a friend. But he was nice, and he didn't get twitchy whenever she got too close to an electrical outlet. Not openly, anyway. Tucking the tablet back into her pocket, she took one last look at the demo office and smiled before sneaking back out through the hangar entrance and down the hallway, trying to pretend those words weren't still echoing tunelessly in her head, ticking by like seconds on a clock.

Please trust me. Please trust me. Please trust me.

“Smartest man?” Gavin chuckled warmly, thankful for the chance to change the tack of the conversation to a lighter shade. “There was a Major League pitcher in the first half of the Twentieth Century, though I can’t recall his name, he often was quoted as saying ‘I’d rather be lucky than good.’ Now don’t you look at me that way, Sergeant Larson,” Gavin teased with a wag of his finger, “there’s no law to keep us British chaps from following baseball.”

“That’s all I am, Abby…” He gave the blond MP a quick wink and a broad smile. “Lucky.”

His deep blue eyes looked profoundly into Abby’s lighter and brighter azure ones. “Just like when I bumped into you in the halls of the Mountain. I ended up gaining two friends that day: you and Michael. That never would have happened without that scientifically unexplainable phenomenon known as fortune, and I am forever thankful for it.”

Gavin shifted his gaze downward, realizing just how intently he had been looking at Abby. He didn’t bother trying to hide the slight color that came to his fair cheeks, for he truly wasn’t embarrassed by his honesty, even when it was conveyed by the hue of his skin.

“I attribute my good luck to my shoes,” he continued, giving the worn black Chucks a wiggle. Gavin smiled once more, and returned his eyes to look upon Abby. “So God help me if something were to ever happen to them. I’d be like a lost lamb.”

There was a brief silence that fell over the lab then. It was a comfortable one, as if the quiet were merely the settling of a warm blanket that had been tossed into the air. It was the same kind of feeling that had lingered in Abby and Michael’s room in the Mountain years ago now. Gavin had finished reading that last chapter of Tolkien, and had looked up to find the mother-son pair soundly sleeping upon their bed. It had been a moment Gavin would forever cherish, and one that would always be counted among his fondest memories.

Reluctantly, Gavin knew he had to respond to the more serious issues Abby had raised, and so he let the warm silence be pulled away with the sound of his voice.

“I imagine it was a dire certainty,” he said with his expression becoming harder. “Once the General’s daughter was involved, the man’s fate was sealed. I can’t say that I could blame the General. If there were even the slightest solace gained from the murderer’s execution, I don’t doubt that I would have been compelled to do the same.”

“Still, I believe there is much more to be born out in the name of due-diligence. The apparent haste of it all, especially after hearing of the lack of a thorough investigation, as you described, is troubling. Though I hope there is nothing else to discover, we can’t let it go without truly knowing, can we?”

It was a rhetorical question, and Gavin knew Abby’s feeling on the matter. Downing the rest of his coffee, he set the mug down upon the nearby desk, and gave Abby a sideways grin.

“It would be my pleasure to accompany you in meeting with Mr. Eadoré. I imagine I can keep up with his technical jawing, though I make no promises with the French accent. Hell, I have enough troubles sometimes trudging through my own dialect.”

Gavin chuckled. It was a hearty sound that followed him as he stood, and moved towards where his coffee pot still remained upon the warming plate. Picking up the carafe, he turned to freshen Abby’s mug before polishing the remainder off into his own cup. Blowing across the top of the steaming liquid, he consulted his smart device as it chirped within the hip pocket of his Levi’s.

“Well,” he said with a smirk as he read Deli’s response to his earlier message. “I have an appointment coming in shortly, or I’d say we could go hunt down our French friend presently. I apologize for the delay, Abby. Shall I find you when I’m finished? Perhaps we could meet in the mess during the lunch hour?”

"By all means, feel free to pry," Back to Ms. Albright, Antoine chuckled warmly, the touch of her finger still lingering down his back, along with the cool, light sting of the antiseptic spray. There wasn't that much to say about the marks etched into his back, really, the surgical scar probably the best thing that had happened to him. He wouldn't be the linguist he was without it.

But his curly-haired nurse seemed nervous and embarrassed enough already, darting over to her desk after she was finished addressing his back. Lowering his shirt, Antoine couldn't help but wince slightly as it pressed against the disinfected cuts down his back. It was a... refreshing sensation, actually, he tugged his shirt again as he moved over to stand beside Ms. Albright.

"Tigers and Lynxes, oh my." Grinning widely, he cocked his head to the side in playful question, hand tugging his shirt one more time. "Can we play with all of them? Or do guests have to choose one?"

~-~

There was a surprising number of acceptable humans walking around his home, now.

The light voice had caused Mowzer to look back from his mission, receiving a sudden -yet acceptable- scritch behind the ears before the human then moved away. Sometimes he'd take that as an insult, but he had just finished a rather nice attention session from a different human, and was more in the mood for a nap.

A nap on a lap could be nice though... But his favorite strange thing was open down the walkway, inviting chair just visible to his eyes. Now that there were so many humans about, would they ruin his favorite sleeping area? Should he get as much use out of the chair as he could now? But a lap was warm.

Decisions decisions, why did humans never have to struggle like this?

The challenges of life, it seemed. Mowzer stood there for some time, looking back and forth between his original destination, and where the new human had gone. Lap or chair, lap or chair, perhaps he'd just curl up and nap where he was standing now. That'd be a decent compromise, the floor was cold but always seemed to warm up quickly. He could watch the loud humans move around from here as well, make sure they didn't do anything terrible to his favorite napping spot. Of course, he could do the same from the chair itself, couldn't he? Yes, that might be the best, after all. Chair it was the- wait-

Another of the humans was walking towards him? What did this one wa-

Oh... NO.

A low, rumbling growl built up from the depths of Mowzer's chest as Reece walked over and scooped down, the cat perfectly understanding what this human was trying to do. His tail flicked in irritation, eyes narrowing as he slunk back barely a step... then struck.

With a yowl, Mowzer swiped at the nasty human's outstretched hands, claws extended, before bounding away. He darted around the fool, past the others, decision finally made as he set his sights on the human who had scritched him earlier. Crossing the remaining distance at a near-sprint, Mowzer slowed to curl his body around the nice woman's legs, flashing a dangerous glare at the other one.

It would be up to the human, if he got the message. Mowzer didn't care either way, but if that human tried to pick him up again?

He'd get a lot more than a little slap.

Penny

Cupcake! Josey called her Cupcake and she loved it. She ducked her head, her loose red hair falling across her plumped up cheeks, her mouth stretched into a broad grin. She nodded and darted off to do as he said. Molasses for Moonshine, she was more than happy to help Jack. She hadn’t done more than sweep her eyes around the kitchen before, but it was well enough organized and Josey had pointed her in the correct direction so it was easy enough to find the baking pantry, her pantry after all. She drew up short as she nearly ran into Henry who was had procured himself a mop and was cleaning the floor with a ferocity that made her pause before circling around him. She felt a little pang at the slump to his shoulders and the tight aloof way he held himself. It didn’t take a genius to see that he felt out of place, adrift and she wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Part of her, the part that her family had teased her about, chiding her for being too easily taken in, wanted to throw her arm around his shoulder and bring him into the conversation. But his words haunted her, he’d raped someone. He’d been to prison for it. This made her want to avoid him. The contrast made her feel unsettled but she simply couldn’t be cold, no matter what. She couldn’t stop the small smile she flashed his way, small and encouraging and sweetly sad.

Her pantry was a refuge, a delightful, delicious distraction. Bins of ingredients lined up on the shelf ready for whatever she wanted to do with them. Oh she was certain some of them were fabricated, they were on a space ship after all. Fabricated products were a growing part of her field as new breakthroughs were made in food science and she was familiar enough with them. She preferred the real thing, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. She found the Molasses on a shelf a little higher than she’d want to keep it and had to fetch a stool to reach it. She made a mental note to reorganize her space.

She pulled the correct jar down, looked it over and was pleased it was real honest to goodness Molasses. She’d never had moonshine, never been one for drinking, but she loved the idea of the whole thing. A space, speakeasy. How perfect. The thought made her bounce on her heels a little as she left the pantry, jar in hand and caught the tail end of Jack’s little speech. Oh how she loved his wonderful charming, rolling way of speaking. She felt her grin growing as she handed over the molasses.

“Do I step?” she asked, charmed but clueless. Her smile didn’t falter but her brow puckered as she tried to follow what he was saying to her. Stepping seemed to be at the heart of his discourse, as well as truth and maybe gum. She laughed and nodded, not knowing what else to say. She had the feeling that with exposure his chatter would make more sense and in a moment of dawning realization she understood he wanted to hang out with her. She liked the thought of that, of being friends with this grinning man who was so quick to laugh.

“Alright, Jack.” She said with a laugh of her own and a nod. “I’ll step with you and you can tell me how you plan on making moonshine. I’ve never had any but I’m very curious. I also want to know about gobs. I suppose I’ll be here after dinner, well in the dining area I guess. I’ve got some inventory to do but more importantly, some cooking. I need to make cookies, Chocolate chip.” She said as her eyes flicked to the skinny boy bent over his tablet.

Stella

Stella looked quickly, up almost startled as his teasing question pulled her out of the notes that wanted to pull her back in and under. She smiled a crooked little smile at him and her eyes almost twinkled. Despite her near start she seemed almost comfortable with him, as if she was just grossly out practice at speaking to people in a one on one setting. This was actually the case and something she always meant to work on, but never actually managed as the impulse to flee and to migrate pulled her in stronger ways. But now she was on a damn space ship, one of the last of her kind and there was no more fleeing despite being in the midst of a migration.

“No choosing.” She said. “But not both at once. We don’t want to confuse them anymore than they already are.”

She pointed to the door that led to the working area of the veterinary clinic, the space important enough for her to remember despite the insanity of her brief tour before she was put under. The door hissed open as she approached and she jumped a little, the gesture evidence of her still being a little wound up. Scowling at the door she passed through it and led the way to the enclosure where the tigers were kept. As she walked her eyes caught onto the wall containing the slide in refrigeration units meant to hold bodies and noted that quite a few of them, of varying sizes had lit up panels that indicated they were occupied. She paused, counted, made a soft huffing sound and continued on her way.

“Here we go.” She said and punched in her code that slid the enclosure open. Warm damp air filled with a very organic, earthy scent wafted out the door, a scent with notes of fur and wild. With the scent came some slightly growling mewling and she laughed.

“Oh, perfect timing.” She said. “Feeding time no doubt.”

The view was impressive, a lush jungle scene with rustling greenery, the distant calls of jungle creatures, some of which might be real, and only a slight shimmer in the air to delineate the field that separated the enclosure from the rest of the bio dome. In the corner of the small enclosure were three waddling little forms, stubby, stripped things that would someday be able to kill a man but for now looked lost and hungry, crouched in the corner. She felt a wash of pity for them. The world they were born and abandoned into wasn’t real. They would never really be free, never know what it was to be a tiger, they would only know this half-life and it seemed so painfully pointless she was glad her back was to Mr. Eadoré so that he would not see the bleakness that came over her. She schooled herself and moved to where the bottles full of formula should be kept.

“If you handle Mowzer these should be no trouble at all, scoop one up.”

"Hi!" Pauline piped up with a wide grin, her pale blue eyes wide and appreciative for the most brilliant head of azure hair she'd ever seen. She hadn't gotten up from the chair quite yet - truthfully, she was still just a little wobbly in the head from her "victory laps" at finding the files with her preliminary equations intact in Steve's database. And Pauline didn't really feel like fainting, likely smacking her head on a countertop and bleeding all over her hard work; or tossing what little was left in her stomach on newly-swept floors. Ester and her amazing ginger root cure were way too far away to save her that humiliation.

And though she stayed in that chair, Pauline did un-slouch herself to a posture Sister Mary Frances might have almost approved of, the toes of her old grey and pink sneakers perched on the floor as if she might yet take off in flight if this meeting resulted in a more Steve-like reaction than she'd wished - though she reminded herself again, no one had ever actually died of "No."

But for the moment, Pauline had a hope. She laughed softly when the younger man Mitt (and he sure didn't look like a Mitt to her, but who was she to say? Sometimes parents could just be cruel naming their children) suggested she bent space and time to accomplish so much, so quickly. And she listened curiously as that handsome grey-eyed man spoke softly, not truly catching the sense of the words, but enchanted nonetheless with the low, musical warbling of his voice, like a calm, smooth river rolling lovingly over his vowels.

And when he smiled at her, that one dimple just beneath his short beard had nowhere left to hide.

In that moment, Pauline would have liked to believe she'd have said something more witty than "Hi," something captivating that would have instantly convinced these two men she was an asset worth the keeping here in the hangar, but Handsome the cat sauntered into the office, and things kinda hit the fan. Hard. The grey-eyed man mentioned something about his ex and her cats, and moved to pick him up - apparently a move Handsome objected to most vehemently. He growled, hissed and thwacked at those offending hands as if they might be leprous, and then made a beeline for the relative "safety" right beneath her bum.

Now, the risk of being compared with an "ex" is not going to endear anyone anywhere or anytime, and definitely not with the guy who is the "man-in-charge." But Handsome had apparently decided beneath her seat was a good place to make some heroic stand, and she just couldn't find it in her to turn the cat over now that he'd declared sanctuary behind her legs. She bent slowly beneath her chair, the fingers of one hand slowly wagging an invitation for Handsome to come closer.

But that didn't mean she couldn't feel for the conquered though. "Are you all right?" Pauline asked Reece, wincing in sympathy with a small intake of breath through bared teeth, her brow furrowed with genuine concern as she looked to the grey-eyed man's hands. "I'm so sorry. He's not my cat but I did pet him on the way in. It might be my fault he's still here." She cringed a little in her seat, her eyes wide and apologetic.

"But please, if you'll let him stay, I'll watch him closely - I promise he won't get in any trouble... " Her voice trailed off for a moment as she heard the words she spoke, and Pauline began to laugh with embarrassment, shaking her head. "Well, that is if you'll think about letting me stay too, I suppose?"

"I'm Pauline Weber, and no, I'm not a member of any of your mining crews. I'm just a holdover from Second Shift," she said with an ease that rather pleased her, considering the guilt wagging its finger in her head, knowing exactly what she'd left unsaid.

Her attentions turned to Mitt of the magnificent blue hair, and she offered him her tablet to take if he wished, to see what was there for himself. Floating above the surface of its screen, the three-dimensional holographic schematics, constructed from the equations she designed, rotated slowly in a multi-colored array of light.

"No sorry, not your cleaning lady either, and I'm yet to discover that rather handy rift in the space time continuum." She beamed up at the younger man, re-reading his T-shirt for the hundredth time already and deciding in that very moment she rather liked Mitt a lot. "But I can predict with a great deal of certainty, the absolute minimum safe distance from an event horizon the Copernicus and these mining pods would have to be, to continue operations."

"On a more mundane note? I can update your training programs to incorporate real time data gathered before and during operations and... " Pauline could not help that her gaze returned to the grey-eyed man. She bit her lip softly, wincing with sympathy - but only for only a moment. Her mouth fell open with a gasp of surprise, pale blue eyes widening when she saw the thin rivulets of blood on his hand.

"Oh no, Handsome really did get you!" Pauline felt absolutely horrible, blathering on like an idiot while the grey-eyed man was bleeding! She was out of her seat in an instant, dashing for a nearby cupboard. She really did like Handsome, but bleeding meant the cat would just have to make do on his own, without her leg sanctuary. "You're going to need some hydrogen peroxide for that... A dressing... At least a bandage too for sure. I did manage to find the First Aid kit... "

Pauline stood back up from where she knelt, a little too quickly maybe for her whoozy head but triumphant nonetheless, that First Aid kit in hand. She opened it swiftly on one of the counter tops and waved Reece over, the little creases at the corner of her mouth turned down resolutely with concern.

“I saw that coming.” Connor snickered after watching Reece fail to pick up the giant cat that Connor wasn’t entirely convinced wasn’t some kind of bobcat subspecies or something. Or this is just what happens to cats in space. Which made zero sense, but he was a numbers and machine kind of guy; not Nigel Thornberry. “I’m calling it right now, that cat is the spawn of Satan.” Of course he hated cats ever since the ones that hoarder neighbor owned decided it was fun to jump down from the tree’s in front of their apartment building onto his back and scratch the hell out of him.

He dragged his suspicious glare away from the cat and back to the petite blonde sitting in the chair. A hold over from Second Shift? That was strange, why was she a hold over? The only thing that came to his mind as to why she was still awake was she was pregnant. He sure as hell wasn’t going to ask that though. If he was wrong then he had basically called her fat and hurt her feelings.

And after taking the tablet to study the schematics he certainly didn’t want to do that. He looked up at her in surprise after looking over the holographic image with a critical eye. “You aren’t part of the mining crew, but you made this?” He asked her, pointing to the hologram with his free hand. “Why?” Also if she wasn’t part of any of the crews then should she really be in this area?

He’d leave that decision up to Reece and went back to the tablet to look it over again. “These are great.” He said to Pauline, looking back up to shoot her a grin. “I’m Connor Douglass, mechanic for this hangar.” He reached out to shake her smaller, softer hand in his larger, calloused and scarred one. “Nice to meet you Pauline.” He looked down at the cat again and narrowed his eyes. “You not so much. I’m going to hunt down some welding sleeves and a mask and your furry ass is out of my hangar.” Connor looked back up at Pauline and shrugged. “Sorry, but who know’s what could happen to it if we let it roam around. It could get into one of the pod engines and cause all kinds of problems. I’ve, uh, cleaned out cat from car engines before.” Connor grimaced and handed her the tablet back.

The feeling of soft fur against his palm as he reached down for the Bengal cat was promptly forgotten when the beast twisted around and lashed out. The sting of the needle claws was enough to make Reece curse vividly and yank his hand back away from Mowzer. Blood welled up in three fine lines across the top of his hand and he was reminded promptly that a cat with a lashing tail was nothing to mess with. It stung and he glared at the spotted cat as he found his way around Pauline's ankles.

"You furry little bastard," he grumbled as he examined his wound. "This ain't over, buddy."

The cat merely looked back at him, regarding him as a lesser creature with those cool golden eyes, daring him to come back for more. The pilot shook his bleeding fist at him and chuckled at Connor. Cats would do as they do he had learned and unfortunately forgot that not all were fat docile things that his ex had fawned over.

"Yeah, that's no house cat," Reece said, looking up as Pauline noticed his wound and promptly took it upon herself to care for him.

He would not say no to a beautiful young woman tending the scratches so valiantly received in the line of duty. Reece had a feeling the cat believed the hangar part of his territory and once a feline got the idea in his head, it was hard to dissuade.

"Miss Pauline Weber, I'm Owen Reece, pilot of that particular pod just outside. And I guess in charge of all these knuckleheads," he said, glancing at her pale blue eyes and admiring the fine cinnamon sprinkling of freckles across her nose and pink cheeks. As she washed the cat's scratches, he could not help but notice how her soft golden red hair was warm as a summer sunset and the glow of health and youth she had about her. Too young for you, old man. He sighed inwardly, wincing when she applied alcohol that stung and finally applied the bandaids to cover the scratches. The sight of her soft pale hands against his scarred knuckles and the dusting of hair on the back of his hand made him smile though and he looked up from under a fall of his unruly hair, his eyes meeting hers briefly.

"Thanks for patching me up," he said, flashing a grin at her, his solitary dimple showing beneath the salt and pepper scruff of his beard. "So a hold over, huh. What was your job on the second shift then? I didn't get a file for you."

Reece would have remembered for sure if he had and he mentally checked why someone would not be allowed to go to sleep. His eyes moved down her body in a quick glance but she showed no signs of pregnancy though that did not mean much. She could be with child though he saw no ring on her finger and judging by the cross around her neck he would have expected her to be married if she was going to have a baby. Though those were old holdovers of Earth, things change when people are thrown together in desperate circumstances. Everything had changed no matter how much they tried to cling to their old lives with the holographic images of scenes from Earth or hanging onto wild animals that had no use other than they used to share the same planet.

His attention was pulled away from his musings when she showed Connor the schematics. He looked over the engineer's shoulder and understood a little of what he was looking at though the formulas were beyond him. Connor seemed impressed and considering the blue haired kid was a certified genie us he supposed that was good enough for him.

"Well, Pauline," he said, shifting his weight, glancing back at the door to the office, "I'm willing to take the chance on you, I think we could always use another hand to turn a wrench and Second shift certainly left us with a pile of work to do. Not to mention if you could handle the running of the training programs. If Connor's alright by it, I'd be glad to have you aboard with Hangar Six?"

Normally, he would have just made the call himself but Connor had begun to impress him and he was inclined already to give him a voice in who would be working with him. Of course, it had nothing to do with he would get to look upon the angelic form of the young woman. Not at all, he blatantly lied to himself. He had read Deli's file as well, he knew she had a mechanical background in education along with her demolition training on the mountain but something was bothering him about her. She seemed too high strung and flighty and there were things that he needed to investigate first before letting her play boom-boom let alone give her any responsibilities involving maintenance of the pods.

"I'll hand over cat removal to you," he said when Connor mentioned getting gloves. "Good luck with that."

Reece flexed his hand and cut a glance at Mowzer who still sat beneath the chair, watching the people with a distinctly annoyed look on his face. "Enjoy it while you can," he muttered. He did not hate cats, he was ambivalent about them though they did remind him of his ex wife who doted on two lazy Ragdoll cats. This one was in another league all together and had hunter written all over him. It was too bad there was nothing for him to hunt in the spaceship. Unless rats hitched a ride and it would not be surprising if they had.

He walked over to the bags of trash and he could smell the stench of decay and mold. Connor said it smelled like the mechanic had given up.

"Smells like middle aged depression," Reece quipped and turned away from it, facing the knot of people.

"I'm curious if he had personal reasons for his decline or if it was just the job itself," his grey eyes flicked back to Pauline's pretty face, "Did you know him, work with him?"

The silence may have been pulled away by Gavin's words, but the warmth of those moments remained nonetheless. Abby smiled contentedly, returning his intent gaze easily until Gavin decided to look to those wonderful vintage sneakers. And she couldn't help but think, that nothing with him was ever difficult. Not ever.

Gavin never failed to disarm her with his easy smile, his wit and his humbly self-deprecating comments spoken in that warm, lilting voice she never tired of hearing. No matter the burden she carried, the stress that screamed agonizing tension along her shoulders, searing a tortuous path up her neck and pounding behind her ice blue eyes, Gavin's mere, uncomplicated presence could lift her worries. It was as if he had this uncanny ability to effortlessly hoist her cares and set them to the side, and offer her precious moments of rest. No, none of her burdens were forgotten - not in the least. They were all simply... Eased, and had been from the day they met.

It was no mistake, that Gavin's was the first face Abby sought among the Third Shift.

"Lefty Gomez," Abby said with a smile, "That was Lefty Gomez, the baseball player you were thinking of... And what? Are you saying cricket's not your thing? An Englishman who doesn't drink tea, but makes the best coffee I've had in my lifetime? A Brit who tosses over England's pastime, for the American one? Oh, you are an enigma wrapped in a riddle, tied off with a great big red bow of mystery, Dr. Gavin Brock... "

She laughed softly. "I admit, I'm biased on the subject of you. I happen to think you're lucky and good - and it's got precious little to do with your Converse, no matter that hot retro style you're sporting." Abby settled into her chair a little further, content to simply listen as Gavin spoke of the general's decisions concerning his daughter's murderer. And, though she did not argue the point with Gavin - she simply could not, not without dumping more cares on him than she already had - Abby still felt some better [unsurprisingly] for hearing him out, and better still when he topped off her empty coffee cup.

Well, until the point she realized she needed to down the brew about as quickly as he just had, his new appointment enroute it seemed. "Sure, sure - pour me a fresh cup of coffee, and then scoot me right out the door! I take it all back - you're a cruel man, Dr. Brock!" Abby grinned and shook her head in mock exasperation as she stood, lifting her coffee mug to her lips and winking at him impishly over the brim. She polished it off swiftly enough without the least trouble; her career choice had made snatching quick cups of coffee infinitely worse than Gavin's amazingly tasty brew almost as easy as drawing her next breath.

She set her empty mug down next to his with a contented sigh, nudging his elbow playfully with her own as she turned to leave. "No, I've got a few more visits to make myself before we chat up Mr. Eadoré, and apply a healthy dose of our own due diligence. So lunch time then at the mess hall?" Abby stretched her arms overhead as she walked to his lab door, feeling a satisfying *pop* in her spine in a spot that hadn't felt quite right since the moment she woke up atop Michael's bed earlier. It was nice, that a visit with Gavin could help set even the small irritations a little straighter.

"It's a date," she quipped as her arms dropped back to her sides, fingers reaching for the door panel control at the very instant she realized what she'd said. For a split-second, Abby considered turning around, sputtering out a sheepish apology or some such stammering words - but all she really did, was shrug inwardly and grin big.

"See you then Gavin," Abby called over her shoulder, a wide, unabashed smile and a quick wave for the doctor as the door slid open, and she stepped back into the Copernicus' halls.

The question that first came from Connor-who-was-apparently-not-Mitt (she'd really have to work out the logistics of that strange nickname - or maybe have her hearing checked, one of the two) was pretty much the last one she might have expected. Why would she compile those equations? Well... Honestly, she'd never really thought much on the whole deep philosophical 'why,' and so she chose to run with the more mundane answers as Connor's large, calloused fingers wrapped easily about her whole hand.

"Thank you for saying so, Connor. Really. My father's a physicist, scheduled to wake for the Tenth Shift, and I am... Well, was I mean, an engineering student before The Change. But Dad made sure all his kids knew, from the time we could count our wee little fingers and toes, that numbers weren't just so much chicken scratch. Seen the right way, numbers can describe the entire framework of the universe."

Pauline grinned at the memory as the grey-eyed man, Owen Reece, Leader of Knuckleheads, set his scratched and bloodied hand in her tender care. Using a few of the alcohol prep pads, she carefully held that expressive, long-fingered hand in her own as she cleaned away the worst of the blood, savoring the warmth and strength she could feel.

"He calls them the biggest box of pastel paints God ever gave us." She glanced up to Owen's face as she set aside an alcohol-soaked cotton ball, an even wider smile surprised from her lips when she caught his glance from behind the veil of an ornery tendril of hair. For a split second Pauline fought the urge to tuck that rebel hair back behind his ear, all the better to see the laughter she was sure sparkled in those eyes, and instead finished bandaging the disinfected scratches Handsome laid open.

Owen had questions, a great many questions - a fact for which Pauline was eternally grateful. All his questions, quickly asked and then left half-forgotten as his quick mind leapt from thought to thought, meant for the moment at least she could pick and choose her answers. And for now Pauline left the mystery of her nonexistent file and the nonexistent job she performed unsolved, by the simple blessing of Owen's curiosity about the equations Connor was still studying on her tablet. All she had to do was hold her tongue - well, hold her breath really as Owen looked over her work with Connor - and the question of what job she held during the Second Shift passed by swiftly enough for the moment.

It was not that Pauline believed she could truly get away with hiding how it was she came to wake during Second Shift - well, not for any great length of time anyway. But it was simply so tempting, so lovely to bask for even a few brief moments in the simple joy of being seen by these two men for the good work she accomplished, and not what had been done to her.

She never imagined though, never dared so much as hope for the chance she'd be offered a place here in Hangar Six so swiftly. Pauline was caught between the sudden urge to burst into huge tears of happiness, or just jump up and down shouting for joy like a complete fool - or maybe do a victory lap or two around the hangar.

In the end, she finally chose none-of-the-above, simply clapping her fingers lightly over her lips in stunned, happy surprise, her gaze turned toward Connor hopefully. He would have the final say it seemed, and she'd simply have to be patient - even if it wasn't her strongpoint. The mechanic had been assigned the duty of cat collection for now, but Pauline really did not believe it would be necessary for Connor to break out welding gloves and a mask.

She knelt by the chair, offering her hand to Handsome as she whispered softly to that beautiful cat, to see if she could coax him out herself. "Yes, I knew Steve - not closely I mean, but well enough I suppose. No, I didn't work with him." Pauline took a deep breath as she settled herself to the newly cleaned floors. She crossed her legs easily, offering a warm lap and those soft, pale hands for the wayward cat though she turned to look up to Reece, her gaze steady. 'Go on Pauline - tell him the truth. Owen's going to find out eventually anyway - and you really don't want to look cagey or shady, and jeopardize the chances for your first real job by telling half-truths... '

"And no, you wouldn't have a file on me Owen, because there isn't one in Hangar Six."

Pauline quickly looked to Handsome again, pursing her pretty lips as she tried to call him closer. "Steve wasn't a bad man, the mechanic before you Connor. But he was a very sad man. I don't believe it was the job, so much as... Well, so much as despair. Over everything. I did offer these past couple months, to come help him out, to tighten up the training programs - even just clean his office if he would let me."

"But he wouldn't - as I'm sure you saw when you first walked inside. For Steve, I think it finally just became easier to be mad than to be sad. A couple weeks ago, he finally just lost it and told me to 'get the hell out of here' - pardon my language - and that he'd call security if I came back while he was still awake. The MPs are really nice, and it would be so embarrassing to get arrested for trying to find a productive job."

Pauline shrugged her shoulders lightly as her gaze turned up to Connor and Owen once more, smiling so sweetly. "So I just waited a few more weeks until all of you woke for Third Shift. I hustled myself down here, looking to be a little useful and at least try to wow you all with my mad, time and space-bending cleaning skills." She winked playfully up at the men for a moment, before the expression on her lightly freckled face became serious once more.

"But in all honesty, I think Steve is far happier for now, in the oblivion of cryosleep. Maybe when we arrive at Canaan, he'll find a little hope again."

“Depression huh?” Connor muttered, grimacing as he scratched behind his neck. “That’s...it explains things.” He said, turning his head to look out into the hangar and shoving his hands into the pockets of his jumpsuit, his shoulders bunching up awkwardly.

Despair, sadness and anger were things that he did not want to think about right now. He wanted those as far away from him as possible. He didn’t want to entertain the idea that when he walked into the office earlier, he was looking at his future.

Like throwing a switch his mind focused on the equations and schematics for the training program Pauline had shown him. Mentally he double checked what he had seen, his lips moving slightly and silently as he rebuilt what he saw in his mind.

Turning back to Reece and Pauline he looked between the two of them, especially Pauline’s bright and almost pleading face. His mind still rolling around numbers it took him a moment to remember that he had the final say in not only what Pauline would be doing, but also whether or not she could stay.

Connor wanted her to stay, just like he wanted Deli to stay. Both young women were so bright, happy and put out a light energy that was rather infectus. Hell if he had been straight he probably would have flirted with them. Or attempted to. That was one equation he could never crack.

“I don’t mind you staying.” Connor said with a small shrug. “If the training programs need updating then by all means help yourself. From what I’ve seen on that tablet you know what you’re doing.” He chewed a bit on his black lip ring as he mulled over his next thought before saying it, “But I’d rather not have you working on the engines. They required a lot of specialty training and being I’m kind of responsible for the lives and safety of the four crews, as well as the entire fleet, I only want people trained and qualified touching those babies.”

“Speaking of which I have a cable to replace.” He muttered to himself, rolling his shoulders. He could already feel the familiar knots and aches forming in anticipation for the long work day. “You keep an eye on that cat. I’d hate to have to explain to it’s owner why I’m giving them their pet in a jar.” He said to Pauline, giving her a bit of a smile before turning to his superior and meeting Reece’s eyes. “Do you mind if I excuse myself sir?”

Jack

It wasn't quite as much as he had hoped, but Jack was all the gladder for it. His gratitude showed on his open face as Penny handled it over. He was gladder still that the foxy head had agreed to meet with him after her shift was over! She seemed so cheerful, so happy! If he didn't know better by her strange accent, he would have thought her a coaster from the Rock like himself! The nice thing about being one of the ship's custodians was that he had access to a great many places the majority of the working crew didn't, and he knew just the spot to take her. It was quiet, private, dark, and... beautiful, actually. Even his working man's soul had been touched by it the first time he's seen it during orientation, and he could only hope that Penny would feel the same way.

"Dat's just grand den, duck. Best kind," he replied quietly, "So it is. Ya do what it is ya need to be doin', an' when yar done I'll be der the reckly." Jack stood there smiling at her for several more moments, just looking into her round face with obvious appreciation upon his own as he tried to thing of something more to say to her. He knew it was probably rude of him not to directly address the other two men in the kitchen, yet there was simply no way he could not look into Penny's lively eyes. Finally, he coughed in embarrassment and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "I.. ah... I need ta muck off, den, find dem miner fellas an' see if they gots some chummies I can use, eh? Take care til later, den!"

He paused another second, before allowing a merry smirk to hit his lips and nodding sharply to her. Jack was well aware he was probably looking the fool if not a drunken one, but that was fine by him. Weren't men supposed to look like dumbstruck idiots when it came to pretty women, after all? So to him, his own silliness was right and proper. He was whistling as he left the cafeteria, looking over his shoulder now and then back towards the kitchen door with a goofy smile still lingering on his lips.

Once out of the dining hall, he paused to lean against the corridor wall and catch his breath. Ruefully he shook his head and chuckled. "Not a bad bit nice of it," he mumbled to himself. Jack roused himself then, rallying and carrying himself off towards the mining bays with the large canister of molasses tucked under one arm. His thoughts were right where they should have been (women and rum) as he half skipped his way down to the lower decks where the pods were kept.

Entering straight in without so much as care in the world as to whether or not he belonged there, he called out before he even saw anyone. "How's it cutting' der, b'y? Whattya at? Or is no one home, a'tall?"

Hob

Hob bit his lower lip as she buried her head into his neck and openly sobbed. Part of him wanted to be shocked! OLGA was still a computer generated personality, so who ever would have thought that whatever emotions she had would be strong enough to bring her to this! It was both terrifying to think of and completely wondrous all at the same time. The cynical artist was nothing if not amazed at this new development. But that was only part of him. The core of who he was, the real Hob, did not have time to be shocked. A friend, someone he was coming to love as more than a friend despite the impossibility of it all, was having a moment and needed someone to share in that moment. Without questioning, Hob embraced her in turn about her small waist and held her close while she cried herself out. He even went so far as to kiss her upon the crown of her head affectionately.

Once OLGA had cried herself out, and they parted a small ways from one another, Hob looked into her eyes and sighed. He brushed the tears from her cheeks with the back of one hand as he smiled. "I... need to get to work, kiddo. There's probably a ton of half ass written reports that Yuriko wants me to read with her while Charlie manages the main load for a while. Give me some time to get some distance between here and there so things don't look too suspicious, alright? I'll swing by before the end of my shift if I can, or the start of next shift if I can't." He hated talking to her over the tablets. It just wasn't the same. "Send me an alert if anything big comes up, though, alright?"

He kissed her forehead again tentatively before giving her another smile and heading out of the door and into the access corridor beyond. The smell of the sea and her perfume seemed to follow him. Their ghosts haunted him as he ascended to the upper levels of the system once more and through the messenger database. There was much to do, he regretfully admitted to himself. There was Ghost hunting, reading reports, maintenance, research, updating security protocols; it would probably have been much easier if a pair of teenage eyes weeping tears of simple gratitude didn't fill his mind...

...and leave behind echoes of his passing in the system.

"I suppose one at a time will have to do."

Quite enjoying the turn this little aside had gone -he'd have to find and thank Mowzer, later- Antoine gave a little skip as he followed Ms. Albright over and into the enclosure. It was a gesture that fit his mood wonderfully, so he skipped again, making no motion to have noticed her little jump as the first door slid open. Nervousness or discomfort were common sights to his eyes, both from his time in the military and more recently as a Cryo-tech.

It also seemed a somewhat common sight when around Ms. Albright in general, but that didn't mean he would draw attention to it. Such signs were clues to a doctor, tech, or simply an observant companion. They were meant to be heeded, followed, but never commented on, and so Antoine made no comment.

Instead he skipped once more as Ms. Albright led the way -truly a wonderful motion, wasn't it?- grin widening at the crystal laughter that rose from her lips to his ears. It drew far more attention than the scenery around, the sights, sounds and feelings of lands he no longer slowed to appreciate. Too much time spent on lookout for danger, possibly? An old friend of his had talked about how critical reading in college had ruined reading for fun... maybe it was the same thing.

Same or not, the small, furry, stripey little kittens and their curly-haired caretaker commanded his attention now. He moved over to the enclosure as Ms. Albright moved away, lowering one hand carefully to beckon a curious cat over.

"Well at the very least, I'm used to the scratches." A particularly daring youngling started sniffing Antoine's hand, staring longingly up towards the man himself before nuzzling into his palm. With a chuckle, he began to gently pet the tiger-to-be, noting the spots it seemed to prefer, finding that place behind the ear that all cats seemed to love. It didn't take too long before he had the cat sitting with eyes half-closed, leaning into his hand and seemingly enjoying every moment of pampering Antoine lavished upon him.

"Alright then, moment of truth..." Leaning in, he broke off the petting to reach down and carefully lift up the cat, ensuring it was fully supported as he stood up and brought it to his chest. One arm cradled it's legs and belly from below, the over curling around in front to scritch it's ear and keep it from trying to leap away. There was a moment of hesitation, but the cat relaxed before long, the continued petting seemingly a proper compensation for being lifted from the ground. "...Aha! Success!"

Grinning like a fool, Antoine stepped back with young tiger in his arms, looking over to Ms. Albright as she collected... bottles? Food, yes, she had mentioned that before.

"It's not fair that predators get to look this cute." He moved over carefully, ensuring said predator in his arms remained comfortable. "First one to be fed? Or should I set him down first?"

~-~-~-~-~

Mowzer was not in a trusting mood.

No matter how nice the human above him had been, nice humans could do very not-nice things without warning. With a nasty human close by, who had already tried to pick him up, there was no way Mowzer was going to let another human bring their hands close to him anytime soon.

So when the nice human lowered hers to tempt him over, he answered with a paw. No claws, no angry bat, just a soft push that any nice human should be able to understand. He stayed under the chair she sat in, and decided it would be his room for now. Sitting down, he began to groom, starting with his tail as he moved slowly up the rest of his body, ensuring he reached every possible spot with care.

It wasn't the chair, and it wasn't the lap, but this spot was safe from nasty humans for now, which made it a far better spot than anywhere else. Besides, the nice human above him would probably offer her lap once the nasty ones had left, and he could always rub his cheeks on her legs. It was a good enough spot. Maybe good enough for a nap.

Penny

It was almost a relief when Jack left, almost. He’d been gazing at her so intently she’d begun to grow just a little uncomfortable under the weight of his stare. She’d grinned because she couldn’t not grin. Her eyes had dropped to her feet which had begun to shift and fidget as had her soft dimpled hands as they twisted the edges of her apron nervously. She wondered if she had something on her face. Had she got flour there? Had she a pimple or god forbid, did she have something on her nose and he was too nice to say as much?

She kept looking up to see if he was still looking at her and then looking down when she found that he was. It grew just a little embarrassing. In the silence her nose began to itch though she resisted rubbing it as if that would bring attention to whatever it was he was staring at. Because it never once occurred to her that he was looking at her. He couldn’t be, at least not with simple appreciation. Penny was moon-faced, chubby-cheeked, silly and dumb. She was something tolerated, useful perhaps but nothing to be admired. She wasn’t clever, she wasn’t quick and moreover, he hadn’t had her baking yet. That sometimes got her approval, or smiles of affection, but never just her. Medea had been the pretty one, Antigone the striking one. Penny was just Penny.

Penny’s cookies on the other hand...

He left and she eased even as she watched him walk away, her hand lifting to wipe absently at the tip of her nose and finding it free of anything that might have drawn his attention. While she was still charmed by his delightful way of chatting she worried now that he’d think only of whatever had drawn his attention, be it pimple or flour. Cookies would need to be made, for so many reasons, impressing Jack Pumphrey became one of a host of reasons. The third shift sleepers would certainly appreciate something warm and yummy that would tell them that home was not so far off. That home might be where you made it. And there was that skinny boy, Henry and for all that she wasn’t sure how she felt about the situation, he looked like he needed a bit of sweetness, everyone did.

“Cookies.” She announced and turned to Josey, happy to have a reason to head off to her work in a transparent attempt to escape any further uncomfortable conversations. “I’m going to make cookies as soon as I get a sense of my stock. I assume those ovens are mine?” She pointed to the two that were nearest to the baking area. Her area, she thought, and strode towards it, a spring growing back into her step now that her discomfort was fading.

Stella

She turned back, three bottles in hand with carefully measured portions of formula in them to see Mr. Eadoré with and armful of baby tiger and looking far too adept at the job. Her gaze softened and her smile was sweet and sad as she handed him a bottle.

“He can go first. Just feed him wherever is comfortable. I’ll get the other two.”

She moved over to the remaining two who were not as bold as the one her companion had nabbed, one even going so far as to cower back some. He was the sensible one, she thought, scared of the world, distrusting of it. She could get behind that to an extent. But for now he needed to be fed and he needed to learn that she was someone to be trusted. So she sat down within reach, not seeming to be the least bit concerned about dirt or detritus. She crossed her legs and scooped up one adorable predator and with little fanfare but studied gentleness put him on his back along the curve of one calf and popped the nipple in his mouth before he could yowl too heartily. He decided that food was better than a good yowl and began to suckle at the bottle.

“Good boy.” She said, her eyes flicking down to confirm. Two girl and one boy. So with that one settled she picked up the timid one by the scruff of its neck, not dislodging the bottle of the other one and managed to do the same feat of flipping and feeding by virtue of speed alone. It was clear this was something she had done many times but even so her face was soft and appreciative as she gazed down at them. One furry body lay alongside the other in her lap, their stripes not yet fully distinct on their small bodies, each pattern a fingerprint unique to each tiger. They were a problem.
She looked up to see how Mr. Eadoré fared with his charge.

“We won’t have to do this with the Lynx’s, they are older and eating solids.” She said, tossing her head to get a curl out of her eyes, her hands too occupied to be brought to bear for the task. “I don’t want to keep you too long if you have things to do.”

Her mouth twitched and her eyes went distant again. She’d never been to a jungle, it had always been something she’d wanted to do but never had done and now she never would. All the tigers she’d known had been in Zoos or taken in by wildlife sanctuaries when their owners, mostly illegal, had realized how much work they were. Cute little balls of fur that grew up to be big balls of fur with a killer’s instincts and some wildness that never left them. She knew how to take care of them, to see to their physical needs, but she had no idea how to teach them to be tigers. Would the wildness inside them be enough? Was there a point

“How long have you been awake Mr. Eadoré?” She asked, wondering if it got easier. Though from all his grins and his lightness of manner she didn’t think it had been hard for him. He seemed at ease in his skin in a way she was only when surrounded by miles and miles of wilderness.

Gavin laughed as Abby teased him, and subsequently began to down her coffee in record time. The swiftness at which the piping-hot brew disappeared made him cringe, and his face screwed into a look of empathetic dismay. He was half-tempted to get up and preempt Abby’s departure with a cool glass of water, or begin pre-op procedures for an emergency esophagus transplant, but he saw quickly that such measures weren’t needed.

“If I ever need a pile of hot coals swallowed, I’ll be sure to give you a ring,” Gavin said with a relieved chuckle. “You give the term ‘stomach of iron’ a very real interpretation my dear friend. And I do mean that in the best way, I assure you. If you ever need something for heartburn, or…oh never mind, you know where to find me.”

He stood as Abby began to make her way out of the lab, and he was about to offer a word of farewell when the words “It’s a date” met his ears. Gavin’s mouth, which had been half open to speak, closed abruptly with a pleasantly surprised grin. His eyebrows rose, and his head canted slightly in a gesture one might expect from a dog that’s just been told it’s time to play fetch.

As the attractive MP bade him goodbye, and left him finally with a winning smile, Dr. Gavin Brock found himself unnaturally at a loss for words. It took his polite demeanor a few seconds to break through the lock upon his tongue, and scream inwardly that he had just let a dear friend leave without so much as a proper ‘cheerio.’

Aghast, Gavin hastened over to the airlock, and leaned himself over the threshold. Seeing Abby’s retreating back, he cupped a hand to his mouth and called after her.

“A date it is then. I expect you in your finest ACU’s Ms. Abigail Larson, or I shall be deeply offended!”

He watched her reaction with a smile, and a satisfied laugh at the exchange. Thoroughly buoyed by Abby’s visit, Gavin turned back into the lab. It was quick work to clean up before Deli’s appointment, as the space was already near spotless. Gavin then set out the few pieces of equipment he would require, including his antique stethoscope and penlight.

Ensuring the door to the lab was locked into the ‘open’ position so Deli could freely enter, Gavin seated himself once more at his desk to wait.

(Collab: Igraine + DotCom)

Deli didn't know how she found Gavin's office. She never knew how she found anything, really, but she always did. When her mind wandered, her feet took control, which was all for the best, since they, at least, were usually right.

It gave her the time she needed to smile again.

Reassured by her own pluck, her father's heavy marble chess set clutched under one arm, Deli turned the corner at a pace far faster than she needed, and walked straight into First Sergeant Abigail Larson.

She felt her belly tighten as her heart seemed to drop straight to the bottom of a dark, icy river in her mind's eye. Her face, however, only brightened, and after tottering back on her heels and quickly balancing the chess set on a hip, she grinned up at Abby, never one to be undone by her somewhat diminutive stature.

"Hi!" she said brightly. "Sorry."

There was a beat, and then, "You're Sergeant," she added knowingly. Deli tilted her head to one side, almost inquisitive, peeking back through the door through which Abby had just come, then back to Abby herself. "You were visiting Dr. Brock?"

"Oh!" Abby pulled up short as the littler woman all but walked right over her, taking a quick step backward to steady herself, if she needed to catch the perky, ebony-haired lady. But she warmed quickly enough when she saw the wide sweet grin, and heard the tiniest heartbeat of an apology. In truth, Abby had been every bit as distracted as Delilah Beltran was, only just whirled around from a last wave good-bye for Gavin as he hung out the hallway, reassuring herself she truly was wearing her best ACU's for briefing Third Shift today anyway.

"'Sergeant,' is it?" she asked with a laugh, shaking her head slowly, one eyebrow cocked curiously as she watched the strangely vibrant little woman with a small, eminently amused grin. "Well I am a sergeant here on the Copernicus, and you can call me Abby - it might save confusion among the rest of the non-commissioned officers aboard. Soldiers can be rather short on the uptake, easily confused - just speak slowly, give us some time to work things out, and eventually we usually catch on... " She winked at Deli slyly, before her gaze traveled to the chess board set hiked under her arm.

"And you are Delilah Beltran," Abby said softly, her ice blue eyes returning to the young woman's pretty face. Of course Abby knew exactly who she was, recognized her now for the young woman with the unfortunate choice of vomit receptacles in the briefing - and of course, one of the handpicked contingent forced to switch shifts involuntarily. "Yes, of course I was visiting Dr. Brock. He is a dear friend, trustworthy and genuine and, I have to admit, the maker of coffee like you will never experience again in your lifetime. If you haven't had the chance to taste for yourself? Oh, you've been deprived for far too long - and you can tell him Abby said so. He's good people."

Abby's gentle smile remained as she nodded meaningfully toward the chess game. "Though I bet you've already figured that for yourself. I've got to know, have you beaten a Nobel Prize nominee to date? An impressive feat, that."

Deli beamed at the taller woman, honestly baffled at the genuine kindness apparent in both her voice and smile, though of course she wouldn't let that show on her own face.

"Well, only when you say it like that," Deli said, scrunching her nose in mild distaste. "I like Dr. Brock 'cause he doesn't let me win."

It was true enough, though both their previous matches had been close ones. He'd been among the first people she'd met after her father had moved his family to the Mountain and one of only a small handful to know her brother Diego. She'd suggested a game of chess on a whim -- as she did most things -- after their third or fourth session together when she'd decided she needed something more than decades-old magazines to distract her from the fact that she was in a doctor's office, even if it was a doctor she'd liked.

"He's better at making his moves," Deli continued idly, as though she and Abby were old friends, which was generally how she viewed people she didn't immediately object to. "But I have better foresight. Doctors and soldiers always spend too much time in detail." Then, remembering who she was talking to, a sheepish grin and said, "Oh. No offense. I bet you're still really smart to be in charge of the whole ship. And you're not just a Sergeant. You're First Sergeant. I know it's just a ranking, but it's a good one."

Deli beamed and stuck out the hand that wasn't clutching the chess set under her arm. "Anyway. Abby. I'm Deli. But you already knew that. And..." she paused, trailed off, green eyes drifting to Dr. Brock's office door, then back to Abby's face. "And if you're here, I'm probably not allowed to ask about what, huh?" she added sagely, before nodding to herself. "That's okay. It's probably better that none of us know exactly what happened to those people."

It was rare Deli let people know what she was really thinking, but the First Sergeant had been so disarmingly genuine...and Deli figured it wouldn't take her, or Reece, too long to put two and two together.

"Thank you," Deli said abruptly, surprising even herself, then decided she didn't care. "For waking me up. I know you're going to say it wasn't you, or that I shouldn't be thanking you, but I'm going to anyway, okay? I'm glad I could be here, even just for a little bit. I heard some of the others say they didn't think there was very much to look at outside, but I think it's kinda like seeing into forever, y'know? I like it." Deli glanced wistfully over her shoulder for just a moment before turning back to Abby with that dauntless grin once more.

"Anyway, it was nice to meet you." Deli rocked back on her heels and tilted her head to the side with a curious frown. "I'm glad you're in charge. You're really pretty. Also, did you say Dr. Brock has coffee?"

Abby laughed softly all over again, not truly getting a chance to get a single word in edgewise as Deli's quick mind moved along at a clip she knew she'd never match. She did, however, manage to take the young woman's offered hand in her own in a warm, firm shake.

"It has been wonderful meeting you Deli," Abby replied sincerely as she let the younger woman's hand free - though Abby suspected that not much of anything could keep this lively sparrow of a woman still for long anyway. "And thank you as well." For many things truly: for the sweetly simple compliment; for her tacit 'approval' of Abby's position aboard the Copernicus; and even for Deli's gentle forgiveness of the Shift switch she never volunteered for, and yet remaining doggedly determined to see the chance for eternity in her circumstances nonetheless.

But Deli did not strike her as the fluffy-feelings-let's-share type, and so Abby kept those thoughts to herself though the sentiments shone in her smile nonetheless. "Though I should probably mention, General Lahan might be a touch miffed to discover his Head of Security has suddenly taken over his whole spaceship. You know how some men can get when you take away their toys, pouting and moping for days on end - such a sad, sad sight really. I just couldn't do that to him. Oh! And between you, me, and these walls all around us?"

Abby leaned forward just a little, her lips to the smaller woman's ear as she whispered conspiratorially. "I probably shouldn't have spoken so loudly before, but yes. That coffee. It's the elixir of the gods if you're into that kind of thing. But let's be wicked, and keep Dr. Brock's secret all to ourselves - conservation of scarce resources and all of that. I won't tell if you won't!" Abby grinned widely to the sprightly younger woman as she stood to her full height, laying a warm, reassuring hand on Deli's shoulder in farewell before turning to make her way back down the hallway.

But she only made it a few steps before turning around on her heel with a laugh. "Oh, and Deli? Just so you know, you can ask all the questions you like, any time. But whether I'll answer or not? Well, that's a whole other matter there I'm afraid... " Abby winked impishly, and returned to her trek through the Copernicus' byways.

Deli, considerably brightened at the notion of sharing a secret, even a tongue-in-cheek secret, with basically the captain of the whole ship, watched First Sergeant Abigail Larson, Abby, disappear into the bowels of the ship with a smile on her face. A genuine smile, too, not the charming, but meaningless one she'd wore as of late. She liked Abby, and that scared her. She tended to hurt the people she liked.

Shaking herself, the young demolitionist exhaled forcefully, blowing a tuft of ringlets from her eyes with a breath of air, and on inhaling, finally caught scent of Dr. Brock's coffee. The shiver that had been starting to work its way down her spine disappeared, and she turned toward his office door with an almost earnest spring in her step.

She didn't knock before she entered. As per usual.

"Hi, Dr. Brock," she said, green eyes scanning the room for the source of that yet-unseen decadence. "I smell coffee. Can I have some?"

Maya

She circled the bridge until her aching head and churning stomach told her it was time to return to her room. She'd been given leave to take the next day off, but she had no intentions of doing so. Somewhere back on earth, her grandmother was turning in her grave at the mere thought. Maya Coleman hadn't been raised to take breaks, necessary or otherwise.

In time, a pilot through and through, she found her way down to the hangar. The mining pods were smaller than the Copernicus but undoubtedly no less important. In fact, given their would be bounty, Maya was almost inclined to make rounds of the pods herself in her time before her shift started proper. But before she could go anywhere, an unfamiliar voice stopped her.

"How's it cutting' der, b'y? Whattya at? Or is no one home, a'tall?"

Maya stopped short at the...pronouncement...of a sort. Granted, it could have also been a call to action, or a curse, or the lyrics to some pop song. The man speaking -- she was almost certain it was a man -- had an accent even thicker than her own, and twice as indecipherable by her count. She wasn't typically one much for speaking out of turn or at all...but if this mystery person was calling for help, she couldn't very well walk away.

She followed the echoes bouncing off the vaulted ceilings and caught up to a young man with a large barrel of...something under his arm, apparently calling out to no one in particular. Maya watched him for a moment. He didn't appear to be in any danger...but she was still admittedly curious about just what had been said.

"If you're looking for your quarters," she said, her accent making the word 'quarters' almost rhyme with 'squatters', "you're in the wrong wing. This is the hangar for the mining pods."

--

Park

The girl's name was Pauline, and the terrors of the night had left her with a poignant gift.

Whether or not she saw it that was, Park wasn't sure. But she had decided to keep the child, and she was awake now.

There had been other details in her file -- her father's name, for example, and the girl's predilection for numbers and metrics. More than enough information on just what had happened to her, and who she had been before the happening. Park read it all, impassive, the noise of a small, manmade waterfall at the corner of his desk his only reminder that time was passing at all. When he was finished, he shut the file and set it on his knees, then reconsidered and put it away in his desk.

Technically, Dr. Park was just one of a handful of doctors assigned to the Third Shift. It was no different than working at any medical facility back on earth. Like Dr. Brock was consigned to address neurological concerns, Dr. Park was open for psychiatric 'emergencies'. Suicide attempts and the like. His predecessor, one Dr. Wendy Carter, had been a general practitioner with a degree in psychology. To his understanding, he was to be used mainly for his psychiatric skills. Fate or providence, perhaps, all things considered.

In any case, he was neither morally nor professionally obligated to reach out to Ms. Weber, though he had been given her file as a strong nod from the powers that be, her father undoubtedly included. Still, he knew from experience that a good number of his patients preferred to come to him, and that several more who might benefit from his services might never approach him at all if left to their own devices. He had at least preliminary information on most of those awake for the Third Shift and strongly suspected it would be case here with at least a handful.

For now, though, there were only two names on his list. To Pauline, he gave a gentle nudge, more of an introduction than anything else. A polite reminder that he was there and willing, happily so, to talk.

He pulled out his tablet, and after squinting, perplexed, at the screen for several long moments, sent off a short message to the former college student.

Hello, Pauline. My name is Doctor Park, or Pastor Park, depending on who you ask. I generally just go by Park. Do you like tea, Ms. Weber? If you'd like to grab a cup with me, my office is nearish the gardens. I hear you're quite familiar with those. Perhaps a tour sometime? I hope you're doing well. All the best, Park.

The second message went out to a young man named Henry Graham. His file was not nearly so detailed as Ms. Weber's, but it did not need to be.

Good evening, Mr. Graham. Or good morning, as luck may have it. My name is Dr. Park. How are you, Henry?

Antoine replied to Ms. Albright's smile with a warm one of his own, accepting the bottle of formula and settling down as she moved passed. The youngling in his arms seemed to understand just what the bottle foretold, it's sudden twisting and struggling suddenly occupying the Tech's attention as he worked to both keep said animal contained, and ready the bottle to feed it.

So wasting no time, Antoine set the bottle down so he could move the eager kitten about. Now kneeling, the sight of Ms. Albright coaxing the other two with food just visible around a large furry paw being planted in his face, he managed to shift this young one onto it's back long enough to retrieve the bottle.

"Come on now..." Mumbling the words through fur, he was granted a reprieve as his kitten realized how close the bottle was to it's mouth, snapping onto the nipple and beginning to suckle. Paws curled back to hug Antoine's arm, claws retracted yet still felt, their points pressing lightly through the fabric of his shirt.

Well, nothing Mowzer hadn't done better... or worse, depending how you looked at it.

"There you go..." His grin was for both the tiger in his arms and Ms. Albright nearby, gaze shifting towards her as she spoke up again. "...Me? No, not at all. I'm kind of on vacation."

"I've been up for weeks, perk of being a cryo-tech I guess." The tiger on his lap wasn't letting him use his arms for the dramatic gestures his following words normally demanded... frustrating, but the tiger didn't know any better. He shouldn't blame the silly thing.

"Wake up early! Go to sleep late! Become a tech an enjoy a longer shift than anyone else! Fun right?" He hoped an exaggerated wink along with his grin would help carry the joke where gesture could not. The wink did help a bit, the tiger innocently suckling away seeming more adorable once more. He blinked both eyes, holding them tightly shut for a moment before opening again. There, much, much better.

"I have to say, it's much nicer now that there are people in the halls." Blinking tightly again, Antoine looked down as the little tiger mewed quietly, chewing at the bottle's nipple as it tried to coax just another drop from the empty container. "Wow- just how hungry were you, little... guy?"