"Abby come on, I don't need stitches." Connor pleaded with the woman, who was surprisingly very strong while she guided him by his shoulder toward the infirmary. "It isn't that bad. I really don't want to go to infirmary for a huge number of reasons. For one it's basically a hospital and I hate hospitals. I hate needles, I hate doctor's in general, I hate anything that wears a white lab coat. In fact I'm pretty sure it's a phobia at this point."

He was stuck between turning around and running back to the safety of Hangar Six, but also not wanting to be rude to Abby. He liked the woman a lot and quite frankly she could be scary sometimes. It was bad enough he was whining like he was but he really, really, didn't want to see any doctors. He had run out of patience to the Mountain doctors and scientists a long time ago.

"Abby, seriously, I'll go in with just this cut but they'll end up wanting to scan my head. Again. I was doing an awesome job of avoiding it when I woke up from cryo." He frowned as he realized that made him sound like he was high risk of brain damage and shook his head. "I don't mean like they think I might have brain damage from it but I mean they'll want to scan my head to see if I'm still a smarty, smart pants or whatever. Then they'll bring in the stupid snake charmers and try to make me go through with that stupid experiment."

Connor's eyes grew wide as a thought occurred to him and his hands snapped up to cover his head, grimacing a bit in pain from his injured arm. "Or they already did it when I was in cryo!"

Great job not looking paranoid there champ. Do you want to get your tinfoil hat too?

Making a face Connor shook his head again and turn pleading brown eyes toward Abby, clasping his hands in front of him like he was praying. "Abby please don't make me go in there. I'd rather get gangrene than deal with anymore of that medical circus."

Hob's eyes boggled at the sheer look of the proffered meal. It was not merely the smell of it, which had his mouth watering before she was even twenty steps away from his table. Nor was it just the size of the portion, a generous helping that would have put any of the steak houses back on Earth to shame in their desire to please. It was the presentation itself that stunned the NI-tech! What food looked like on the menu and what a person normally received tended to be only distantly related at best, the pictured meals little more than sculptures that rarely involved any actual food. What Penny was offering looked like it came off the menu! Even the pickles looked crisp, and he could tell just by looking at the spears that they would crunch in his mouth with the same satisfaction found in biting into a truly fresh vegetable.

She had a mischievous look in her eye as she held the plate just up out of Hob's reach. His eyes were glued to it like a dog impatiently waiting for its master to give it a treat as he stammered, "No, no, sure! Sorry, I should have said something earlier. It's just that I'm really hungry, and you have no idea how glad I am to be here right now! My name's-"

It dawned on him then that in less than the two full sentences he had gotten out, the woman's attention had been drawn away. Frowning, half scared to see either one of the doctors or ship's security bearing down on him, he turned in his seat. Hob didn't notice anything threatening. The only thing he noticed was a short but handsome young man leaning against the door way and staring back at Penny with a goofy grin on his face. The sight of someone wearing regular clothes made Hob sigh. All that he had, and most of the other NI-techs for that matter, were a few of the same rust colored jumpsuits issued to them. He pondered on whether or not this new woman, Naomi, might be able to scrounge up some regular clothing for his teammates. That was better than thinking about what she might say when she found out that Hob was avoiding all the required medical check ups!

It wouldn't quite be fair to say that after being seen Jack swaggered over to Penny. His walk was an easy, graceful motion, though, one full of self-confidence and humor but with little arrogance. Perhaps it was because he had spent a goodly portion of his childhood on boats that had given him such a well balanced and casual motion. Whatever it was, the Newfie strolled right up to Penny as though she were the only thing in the world. Jack may not have been an overly complicated man; no one, however little they might know him, would ever accuse him of being less than attentive towards others. The focus was all on Penny now. He looked down into her face much as he had when they had met, enjoying the lines of it and the curves her cheek before speaking.

"Whattaya at, duck?" he greeted her softly with a smile. With a flourish, he reached up with one hand and tipped his hat to her in an archaic gesture that didn't seem all that outdated when he did it.

Hob had to smile knowingly. This guy was either real deal or one hell of an actor! He hoped for Penny's sake that it was the former. "Hob," he said by way of greeting as he stuck his hand out, "Just Hob. NI-tech and starving man."

Jack's grin got wider as he looked over at the taller man. "Jack," he said, "Jack Pumphrey. Cleanin' fella. How's it cuttin' der, me son?" He cocked his head to one side even as he shook Hob's preferred hand. "NI-tech? What, in dem der sliding coffins an' everyting? Laird love ya, b'y! Not for all the fish in Bonavist Harbor! I'd have got the sooners were I you, all dem wires in your crown. Walked in by accident on dem taking some duck out start of Shift, all dem wires an' tubes. Didn't know whether to shit 'r go blind 'fore they ran me out. Bless yar cotton socks for doing' it, son!"

Hob could only blink at the man, trying to figure out what in the world he had just said. There had been a note of sympathy in the man's voice, he was fairly sure of that. Anything else was just guesswork on Hob's part without some sort of translation. He fell back on what he was sure of in order to avoid embarrassment.

"Am I... ah... keeping you two?" he asked of them curiously. While his own love life had been a strange and varied one, especially of late, the musician and artist thought he recognized the classic clues of a date in progress. There was a chance he was wrong, yes, but years of making Art imitate Life had given the man a great number of insights as to the human soul. Not all of those insights were pleasant. Most of them weren't in fact. That made scenes like this one all the more heart warming to the bitter soul.

"Not a bit of it, b'y!" Jack waved off negligently.

Hob had some trouble wrapping his brain around that last statement as well, the man's accent truly being atrocious, deciding instead to let it go in favor of finally getting to eat what he could only picture as the meal of his dreams. He almost had to wonder if he was still hooked into the cyber-world of the computer somehow!

"Gangrene, Connor? Really? Drama much?" Abby rolled her eyes, her lips a thin line of disapproval, and the march toward Major Lane's office remained relentless.

But Connor's words didn't really fall on deaf ears, even if they rang of the vaguely paranoid. Most everyone knew of the NI-techs, knew that someone somewhere had violated every biomedical ethic known to mankind to bring them into existence. The Copernicus needed the minds of these men and women to negotiate the folded spaces that would actually make a journey of untold light-years, into a 'mere' 15 year sojourn.

But not even here, at the very end of their world, could anyone square the ethical circle of what had been done to NI-techs - well, not anyone with a functioning conscience, that is. Abby really did understand Connor's genuine concern, even paranoia, in the face of reality.

"Look Connor, just listen, please - well, give me a chance at least?" Abby said softly, her voice gentle and conciliatory as she looked up into those genuinely frightened brown eyes. "Major Lane is a nurse - just a nurse. She's not some part of the military medical complex... Circus.... Thing. She's this short little Indian woman who, in all likelihood... "

She stopped to look Connor up and down, and then shrugged her shoulders with a grin. "Yeah, you've got at least a foot on her. I'd lay money on it, that you could take her."

Abby pulled up before a door that looked like so many others on the Copernicus, only the small clear plastic plaque attached outside labeling the place in large black block letters "INFIRMARY"

She pressed the intercom quickly, smiled into the keypad camera for a moment before looking back up to Connor. "And if it helps at all? I'll stay with you the whole time in her office - in her definitely not sterile-white or scary infirmary. If I remember Major Lane, I bet she has her watercolors up by now, just like at the Mountain. All kinds of lovely landscapes, all the seasons, all hand-painted. Now really, what kind of amoral evil men-in-black brain doctor paints watercolors, I ask you?"

In truth, Abby was not pleased at all to hear anyone should be performing imaging scans on Connor's brain when, of course, there seemed to be absolutely no good reason to do so. She resolved in the back of her thoughts, to bring this up to Gavin when she saw him again later.

"But if she does Connor? If she makes a single move toward your brilliant blue head, and not your arm?" The soldier patted the sidearm snugly fit into her hip holster with a wink, a lift of the eyebrows and a knowing grin. "Yeah, I got you covered Connor. Not on my watch," she whispered.

As if on cue, the metal door slid open, revealing an infirmary that, at first glance, didn't appear to be much more than a glorified doctor's office. A small slender woman looked up to Abby and Connor with a tentative smile. "First Sergeant, good to see you. And you must be... Well, we didn't catch names, did we? Well 'gentleman with the extensive laceration,' I'm Devika. Come in, come in... " Devika turned on her heel, to the long examining table where she pulled from a roll of paper, covering it's plastic cushioned surface before patting it, looking up at Connor expectantly.

"Let me wash my hands here, get some gloves, and I guess we'll see what we'll see there... "

Penny thought that she might rather like being called Duck even more than Cupcake. But maybe it was just because it was Jack who was saying it and she loved how he spoke. She pinked up under his regard and couldn’t quite meet his gaze. But for all that she was flustered and off-center from her belated revelation Penny couldn’t say the regard was unwelcome, just unexpected and something she had no practice at. Medea had been the pretty one, not moon-faced Penny and so she’d never really had to grow accustomed to that sort of thing. She couldn’t meet his eyes and so took the moment to look him over. He looked nice, he’d clearly dressed for the occasion which made her feel a twinge of guilt that she, A) hadn’t realized it was a date and B) hadn’t dressed for the occasion. She was wearing her work clothing, her apron still for crying out loud and she probably smelled like food. That just wouldn’t do, he was too sweet to not make an effort for.

She looked back to Hob as he took a big bite of his sandwich and thought that he rather fit his name. “We’ll let you eat then.”

She shyly slipped her arm through Jack’s before saying to Hob, “It was nice to meet you. Come back tomorrow, I’m making snickerdoodles!”

Then she turned to Jack and licked her lips nervously.

“Do you mind if we stroll back to my place.” She seemed to realize what she was saying and hurried to correct herself, her cheeks flaming as a result of her slip-up, she was a good girl.
“I mean, I just want to change. There’s a nice little lounge not far off from my room you can wait in, I promise I won’t be long.”

She walked towards the entrance she’d come into, keeping her arm linked with Jack’s. Then as she stepped through her harried morning flight to the kitchen came back to her and she realized she was hopelessly lost.

“Um…” she began, hoping that this clever handyman knew his way around the ship better than she did. “You don’t happen to know how to get to sector B do you? I’m in unit 117 but I’m afraid I got a little lost coming in this morning and am not certain I can even get back there…”

Connor couldn’t help cracking a small smile at Abby’s humor, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders. He knew he was being overly dramatic and a bit too paranoid. Possibly a bit childish, especially since Abby’s offer to stay was pretty appealing. If nothing more he’d be less likely to bolt because she’ll just tackle him and drag him back.

Before he could say as much the door opened and he looked down at the nurse, trying to put a polite smile on his face. Damn him being well raised.

He didn’t feel much like giving his name just in case the woman did rat him out to the ‘proper authority’s’ and entered into the room. He sat down heavily on the the examination table with a loud crinckling of the paper.

He removed the rag from the gash on his arm, the blood had mostly started to clot so the bleeding wasn’t as bad as before. Disinfecting it was going to hurt like a bitch though, especially considering he hadn’t been using the most sterile rag to stop the blood flow.

He tossed the horror show rag next to him and leaned forward to put his elbows on his knees, looking around at the water color painting’s Abby mentioned.

She had been right, they were too...pretty and soft to be hinting at anything ominous lurking behind the Major’s smile.

Connor looked over at Abby and was suddenly struck with the memory of when his mother took him to the doctor’s as a child. The thought of his mother, his family sent a stab of pain through him. The clarity with which he remembered it was a bonus sharp little twist to his chest.

“You don’t have to stay here Abby.” Connor said, his voice calm and betraying nothing of the sudden heartache he was feeling. “I’m sure you have a lot of better things to do than baby sit a twenty-five year old man with a paper cut. Or engine cut. Metal is sharp, don’t forget that.” He said importantly with a sagely nod of his head.

“But anyway, I think I’m fine. No I know I’m fine. The pretty watercolors have me convinced. I won’t run away.” He assured her, glancing over at Devika when he heard her rustling around. A needle used for suturing was sitting on a little metal tray covered with blue cloth and he had to look away with a sharp breath. He focused on Abby again and tried to smile, though it felt more like a grimace.

He hated needles.

A nap seemed harder and harder to come by, these days.

Antoine's task logging the current amounts of medication for the cryo-beds was completed quickly enough. It took only a moment longer to send a repair request for the leaking tank and then he was off on his way, door locking securely behind him. His room was just a short walk around a corner, down a slightly narrower hallway separate from the main offices and storerooms.

Something of a lucky draw on his part, to be so close to the storeroom and cryo-beds he looked after. It meant that there were areas of the ship he wasn't as used to as some, not needing to navigate them each and every day, but that was hardly something to complain about. He knew enough of the main halls for now, and would have ample time during the shift to explore. Maybe he'd follow Mowzer for a day, see where the cat decided to go, and if he could find his way back from wherever he might end up.

The thought brought a wider grin to Antoine's lips as he entered his comfortably-small quarters. That would be a well-spent day, indeed. Perhaps in a few days, when things had settled down some and the boredom was setting in. He could fill in the time wandering about the medical wing, living up to his promise at the meeting to remain available for those who wished to speak with him.

A promise he would start living up to... a little bit later. After he had laid down in his bed for a few hours, certai-

A low, shaking thud resounded from his door, and it was suddenly difficult to focus on sleeping.

He wasn't going to get a chance to nap today, was he?

A quiet, if drawn-out, sigh escaped his lips as Antoine rose once more. It seemed to drain both exhaustion and exasperation from his mind as he did so, so he sighed again, smile beginning to return as he paced towards the door. Quiet, wispy sounds could be faintly heard on the other side, was someone still there? If they had run headlong into his door they might need help... it certainly hadn't sounded like any kind of 'knocking' he knew of.

Sighing again to make it three, Antoine opened the door, eyes searching for the possible perpetra- oh.

"Ah-! Uhhh...." He stumbled back a pace as a figure stumbled in, locks of hair flying in a wild tumble to mimic her own movements. Something flashed on her neck -jewelry?- everything moving too quickly for him to get a really good look at anything, right now.

He did see Mowzer, however, sitting placidly in the doorway, eyeing the fallen woman as if wanting to ask when she'd get back to scritching his ears. Of course he was. Mowzer was always the least surprising sight whenever something unexpected occured.

"...Hello? Madam?" Kneeling slightly, Antoine moved to offer a hand... though he couldn't really help her up from this side, could he? He paused there, unsure of what, exactly to do. "Are you... alright?"

Gavin looked down into Deli’s dark eyes, and gave her the most genuine, appreciative smile he could muster. The light kiss she had gifted his cheek was among the most sincere gestures of gratitude he had ever received, and it truly warmed his heart. Of its own accord, his hand raised to press against his heart, and Gavin inclined his head to Deli in the slightest of bows.

“Deli, it was my utmost pleasure. Anytime you should require me, I am at your service.” His smile broadened, and the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes crinkled deeply. “As for the chess, I would very much appreciate learning a new opening. Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?”

With that, just as in the manner she had arrived, Deli left his lab in a tempest of energy and whimsical gusto. Gavin shook his head and laughed. What a character.

Still lingering in Deli’s pleasant wake, Gavin peered through his reading glasses down to his wristwatch. His eyebrows rose. “Well, that shaved some time didn’t it?” he said to himself. The chess game, along with Deli’s treatment, had taken more time than he had intended. It was almost 1300 hours. He sincerely hoped that Abby was not waiting for him down in the galley for their lunch…date?

The idea of that word was almost comical, Gavin thought, as he was floating in a human ark a million-miles from nowhere. Everything he had known, hell, that humanity had known, was being made to undergo an inexorable shift in context. The Copernicus was many things besides just a ship. It was the womb in which the human race would birth its new identity—even down to where one could take someone on a date.

Gavin snorted a laugh. Hey there, beautiful. Want to go down to the cryo-deck and watch people sleep for a couple hours? Drinks are on me.

Even in spite of his internal sarcasm, there was a pleasant warmth that tickled around his heart. It was a sensation he had not felt for what seemed like an eternity, and when he realized what it was he almost laughed aloud once more. Gavin Raymond Brock, you’re nervous!

He rocked back and forth upon the balls of his feet, a wry smile springing to his cheeks in the solitude of the lab. Gavin looked up into the artificial lights above him, and shook his head. “It’s like university all over again.”

An afterthought came to him, and he glanced over at the large display that was his usual medium for interaction with OLGA. Gavin had not spoken with his digital ‘daughter’ since their short exchange at the briefing, when he had whisked her away to meet up with Hob. He felt some guilt for not asking after her, but resolved that he had been busy, and that hopefully her interaction with her friend had set to occupy her for the time being. There was plenty of work to be done soon enough, and Gavin would most certainly need OLGA’s assistance then.

With his guilt assuaged for the time being, Gavin set about a quick cleanup of his lab. In short order he had everything stowed, and the surfaces he had used were disinfected. His task complete, Gavin bent to the polished steel case of the pharmaceutical locker and appraised what he saw. His blue eyes stared back at him, and soon enough it prompted a shrug.

“It’s as good as it’s going to get, old boy.” Gavin winked at his reflection.

Popping a mint in his mouth, Gavin exited the lab, and locked the electronic hatch behind him. With his Converse shoes moving swiftly down the long main passage of the Copernicus, Gavin made his way towards the galley. As he wove his way through the traffic of technicians, engineers, miners, and soldiers, he hoped that Sergeant Abby Larson hadn’t beat him there.

"Cut yourself on metal, did you?" Devika asked gently as she pulled the portable patient monitor to where the young, strikingly-tattooed blue-haired young man sat, and made a mental note to add 'tetanus shot' to the list.

"And First Sergeant, you're more than welcome to stay if you want," she said, lifting her head from the small monitor screen to look to Abby, and then back to the man fidgeting uncomfortably on her examining table. "But I promise, we'll be just fine. I'm especially nice to people who think my paintings are pretty."

Devika winked at Connor, then turned to take the small tablet she'd left on a countertop, to set it next to the young man on the table.

Abby grinned, arms still folded over her chest as she let out a big breath through pursed lips. She really did have about a thousand other things she had to get to today - some of them on her official list, open for perusal from on high; and then the unofficial list she ticked off in her thoughts that, as far as she knew, were still very much her own. There would be no official record of her meeting with Reece, or when she finally caught up with Josie, or with Sergeant Davis. Sure the hell, there would be no record when she and Gavin went to talk to Antoine Eadoré after lunch -

Lunch.

All the blood drained from the First Sergeant's face as she glanced down to her pad.

1305. 'Shit...' Her first date in - hell, well over a decade - and no, it completely did not matter that it wasn't meant to be a real date, dinner and a movie, maybe a long night's walk on an ocean pier. It didn't even matter, that this one meal in the same old dining facility had been something she'd flippantly called a 'date' in a thoughtless, off-the-cuff comment as she was leaving Gavin's lab. Because if Gavin was the prompt type for a noon meal? She'd already blown it by over an hour. Somehow, Abby managed to stifle a groan, masking it all with a wide grin.

"All right Ma'am, I'll leave you to it," she said swiftly, and then leaned down to whisper softly in Connor's ear. "You call me if she gets hinky. I'll be back with the cavalry in a heartbeat. I got your back." Abby walked slowly backward to the door, grinning as she looked reassuringly into Connor's brown eyes. 'Call me,' she mouthed the words as she held pinkie and thumb to mouth and ear, and disappeared into the hallway.

Devika turned back to the young man as the infirmary door swiftly slid shut behind the First Sergeant, the little woman shrugging her shoulders helplessly. With any other patient, she might have made some small joke about the young man being left in her dastardly clutches, maybe even cackled with evil laughter - but somehow this patient seemed about ready to bolt out the door anyway, and probably wasn't really in the headspace to 'get' her jokes at the moment. Most other people didn't really get them on her best days anyway, and she really didn't need to lose her first 'normal' patient since she woke.

"Don't you worry about a thing, really," Devika said, smiling her best, most reassuring smile. "I'm just going to get your name, your vital signs: blood pressure, temperature and so on. Then we're going to take a peek beneath that bandage."

With gentle, practiced hands, Devika wrapped the blood pressure cuff about Connor's uninjured arm, popped a disposable cover over the thermometer, and then popped it into his mouth as she turned on the machine. "For what it's worth, I don't like needles either," she said as she held the thermometer in place, peering up into the young man's brown eyes reassuringly.

"I know, I know, nurse's aren't supposed to feel like that, or at least admit it if they do? But there it is! Can't stand getting shots of any kind. IV's, vaccinations, finger sticks for iron and glucose tests - all of it sucks." Devika shuddered sincerely. "And that's why I have a thousand and one ways to make it... Bearable, I suppose? And, at the very least, if you promise not to bolt on me? I can share rule number one: never, ever watch while you're being given an injection."

The machine beside her beeped irritatingly, the blood pressure cuff loosened and Devika pulled the thermometer from Connor's mouth, popping the protective plastic piece easily into a nearby garbage can. She annotated the readings on her pad beside the young man, before looking back up at him with a soft smile.

"You don't even know the number of times I've seen 'tough guys' try to power through - but when they watch the needle go in? BOOM!" Devika slapped the paper-covered cushion beside Connor with a genuine laugh before pushing the vital signs machine away.

"Flat on their backs, out cold. Please don't be 'out cold' on me, any time soon. There is absolutely no way I'm lifting you off the floor if it happens - though I will treat your concussion best I can if you bounce your head off something really hard," she quipped with a wink.

"Oh, and yes - what is your name?"

Connor smiled and nodded politely as the nurse spoke. If he wasn’t so anxious right now he would have found the woman to be fairly funny. At the moment though he couldn’t do much other than to be polite like he had been raised to be.

He remained mostly silent, not really knowing what to say at the moment and not feeling much like talking either. He knew he’d have to start but he wanted to put it off as much as he could.

When the subject of his name came up he coughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s, um, Connor Douglass.” He answered, wondering if a little alert would pop up that he was skipping an appointment with an MRI machine.

His feet lightly knocked against the bottom of the examine table as he swung them back and forth, his body humming with nervous energy.

“Uh, it’d be a complete lie to say I’m completely phobic about needles for obvious.” He said, trying to make polite conversation as he held up his tattooed arms and motioned to the ones on his neck as well as his piercings. “I don’t hate all needles I just really, really don’t like medical ones.”

He moved his hands down to drum his fingers against the edge of the table, shifting slightly on it and grimacing at the loud wrinkle of paper that followed.

“And I don’t mean to be rude, I’m sorry if I’m coming off like that in anyway, I’m just not a fan of hospitals and,” He looked down at her white coat. “And things related to hospitals or medical science. That’s why I work on machines. Machines are meant to be taken apart and put back together and upgraded.” He cut himself off when he realized he was rambling. “Anyway sorry.”

"Oooowwwwww... " Pauline murmured, cringing and giggling softly as she lay there, ignobly laid out over the threshold of someone's room. She'd bounced her head off the floor quite soundly, and the palm of one hand was gently rubbing the back of her poor, aching skull.

Pauline opened one eyeball slowly, the other still all scrunched closed with the hurt, the fingers of her other hand still just barely touching the enormous cat's soft fur beneath her fingers. "What in the world... Did you do..." she mumbled as her sight finally began to come into focus again.

The figure that loomed right overhead had a warm tenor voice with the lightest of accents, something foreign... French perhaps? Pauline's mouth may have fallen open, maybe a little dumbstruck, as she gazed up into those amazing, deep blue eyes. And even upside down, Pauline could see that smile was wide and genuine and oh-so-inviting.

"Handsome... ?"

She blinked, both pale blue eyes widening appreciatively as she peered up. Pauline probably gawked a little too, at least for the space of a heartbeat. Well, at least until she realized what she'd just said, and how that must have sounded.

"The cat! Handsome, I mean - the cat! Not that you're... Not... "

'Oh God have mercy, I'm babbling! Take his hand already, and get off the ground at least!'

"Fine... " she said softly, a little shakily, blushing brightly beneath that smattering of freckles on her cheeks and nose as she reached up to grab the awkwardly offered hand of his. She did not doubt for a minute, he must have instantly regretted offering to help up this nutty, babbling woman who just fell into his room, his warm, dry and strong hand wrapped about her suddenly clammy, sweaty palm. "Just fine... "

To Pauline, it seemed her voice had come from some great distance, her words uttered by a perpetually awkward imbecile and... Oh no. Oh please no - she'd done it again! 'God strike me down now, please? Mercy, an act of mercy in outer space, a little space lightning or something... ?'

"I mean I am fine, not that you... Are... Or aren't... " Pauline continued to backpedal like a mad woman as she stood to her feet, a whole lot incoherent and feeling even more idiotic with every passing moment. It was a pretty pitiless spiral of awkwardness she was careening down at the moment, made not the least bit easier with the realization this man, even in his rumpled and wrinkled shirt and those sleepy-looking eyes, was even better looking right side up, and she was still gripping his warm, strong hand with her damp, perspiring one.

Oh! Better yet! She was already sweat-covered, head-to-toe, from chasing Handsome from the cryobay. Nice... What man could possibly resist the charms a sweaty, disheveled and inarticulate lunatic who [literally] falls over his doorstep?

And who won't let go of his hand, of course. Nothing says "I'm a catch" like desperate clinging, right? "Sorry," Pauline said quickly, pulling her hand back to her side to wipe her palm discretely against her sweater. "So sorry, I didn't realize anyone was here... Well, obviously I mean, and... Well... " She laughed. Heaven above knew, she just could not hold it in - how absolutely ridiculous this past two minutes had become!

"I was playing tag with a cat," Pauline continued, smiling down at Handsome, "And he decided this was the right place for a rest break."

The little woman only laughed, her dark eyes flashing with genuine good humor, and patted Connor's reassuringly. "Oh it's all right Connor - if I may call you that?" Devika asked with a questioning lift of her eyebrow. She followed his gaze to her white coat and, with a small, resigned sigh, began to slide it off, tossing it over a nearby chair, but not before she rifled out the small packets of alcohol wipes she had in one pocket, and the stethoscope in the other.

"You're not the first person I've met who doesn't like medical... Well, medical anything really, and frankly? I'm just grateful you haven't cussed me out yet, or tried to punch me, kick me... " Devika nodded as she glanced up to the young man's face, that small knowing smile telling him without a word, she wasn't exaggerating at all. If anything, she was understating the matter to a staggering degree, her experience in the triage units during the Sino-Korean war an experience that... That changed her. Profoundly.

But that had nothing to do with poor, bleeding Mr. Douglass before her now, of course. "For that alone - and I wouldn't do this for just anyone you know. Yes, I will give up all my convenient pocket space... " She said as she shimmied out of her white coat, draping the pocketed stethoscope around her neck and tossing her stash of alcohol wipes on a nearby counter, "But since I know First Sergeant Larson dragged you down here - hey, I can meet you halfway, right?"

"Besides, there's no way for me to make this place look like your favorite tattoo parlor either - not without chasing off all my 'business' all together. I'm afraid you're stuck with the bucolic water paintings... " Devika found no need to mention - or rather, boast - that all the framed art was actually her own work. The mountains and the lakes, the vineyards and farmlands rendered so lovingly were a labor of salvation really, after many solitary hours near her family's home in the Catskills when she returned from her various tours of duty.

"And no upgrades, I'm afraid. If only I could slip a new gear or two in you, and make you right again, all this would be a little easier, I bet. But no, you're just fine the way you are, though you know... ? I think I can probably close this up with absolutely minimal scarring over the ink you already have... "

Devika had long since mastered the skill of multitasking, of speaking easily to a patient while simultaneously inspecting an injury. It was an ability honed over years, a skill that easily kept the grimace from her face as she looked to the dirty rag that once wrapped Connor's arm. The only saving grace there, she supposed, was the knowledge that it had been likely soaked in just motor oil and engine grease, and not biowaste. And thankfully, the edges looked clean - a pretty simple slice, if rather deep. With practiced ease, she pulled up Connor Douglass' medical record, tapped the screen quickly to record the vital signs and her notes on the patient's wound, and then -

- And then, her full, pretty lips screwed up to one side with a surprise that even her professional facade could not hide. But she caught herself quickly, swallowing back the lump in her throat, fighting back the cold dread, her heart hammering in her chest. Devika glanced up to Connor from the corner her eyes, the sudden dread swiftly masked again.

"No allergies, serious previous injuries that I can see... Why is there an MRI scheduled for you, Connor? Is there some previous head or neck injury you didn't mention to me before?"

Connor found himself starting to relax while the woman talked. Usually he was the chatter box but right now he was fine with remaining silent and letting Devika fill it. He appreciated the removal of the white coat, though he found it a bit silly.

It didn’t change the fact that she was a medical professional, but then again his whole paranoia with medical staff in and of itself was silly.

He was pleased to hear she’d be able to stitch up the cut without damaging the lines of his tattoo. It wasn’t like there was any way for him to have it retouched in the middle of space unless someone brought a tattoo gun on board.

Maybe he could build one should the need ever arise.

With that thought his mind wandered away from the current situation and started to think about how he’d build a tattoo gun. It would be rather simple really, there were more than enough spare parts laying around. Though finding a talented artist to wield the tattoo gun was a different story. As was securing ink that wouldn’t cause infection.

His musings came to an abrupt halt and the tension returned to his shoulders when Devika uttered ‘MRI’.

Damnit. He thought, and quickly shook his head. “No, no it isn’t anything like that.” He assured her, holding up his hands.

“My head is fine, my neck is fine, no past injuries at all.” He chewed on his lip ring for a moment before taking in a deep breath. “It’s...kind of complicated, but I’m a candidate for this experimental procedure to enhance my intelligence. I’m already pretty damn smart and I don’t want to do the procedure. But the science guys in charge apparently don’t take no for an answer.”

He glared down at the tablet as though this situation was it’s fault. “They want me to go in for an MRI because they want to make sure that my brain is fine after being frozen for three years and I can still be a viable candidate for the experiment. I’m avoiding that appointment because I have a mining pod engine to repair, I can’t waste time on an examine I don’t need and those guys are annoying as hell.”

Connor dropped his glare and shifted awkwardly on the table. “So, I hope you understand.”

"I don't need to understand a single thing, Connor," the small woman said evenly, praying she hid the tremor in her voice. "And the only thing you have to understand, is that you don't have to do anything. You tell them 'no.'"

Devika had to turn from Connor, her deceptively delicate-seeming hands shaking as she reached for the cupboard above her sink. She did her damndest to slow her breathing while she grabbed an empty tub, some clean towels, and a large irrigation syringe. She set all her supplies aside while she filled the tub with tepid water, trying to give herself a few seconds to collect herself.

'I can't do this... God help me, I can't do this... ' And it was the still-yet-living faces of the men and women she had not even known existed before she woke, forced into the living death of stasis day in, and day out, who loomed in her mind's eye. It was those faces that haunted her dreams these past days, the unspeakable suffering, the misery etched into those visages that chased restful sleep far and away, and Devika thought she might be sick.

But rather than wretch up her meager breakfast, she snatched up a small tub, supplies and Steri-strips, and returned to Connor's side. Quickly, she pressed a bright green squishy ball into the palm of his uninjured arm. "Just a stress ball, go ahead and squeeze the heck out of it - usually works pretty well. Watch your hand there, or pick a painting there, while I clean this up."

"Now... Listen to me Connor. There is no one who can make you get an MRI. Your brain, your body, it's all your own." She wrapped a towel around the base of his arm, filled a large syringe with water, and began to sluice some of the water from the wound, wiping the bloody excess away with a sterile dressing.

"That doesn't hurt, does it? I need to see the edges, and if they're 'clean' enough? I can probably use Steri-strips instead of regular sutures - in essence, just pull the sides together, tape them in place, and there won't even be any need for lidocaine injections... Anyway... Yes, like I was saying - sure, our home doesn't exist anymore, but that doesn't give the biggest bullies in outer space the right to tell you anything." Devika set the small tub and the soiled bandages aside as she inspected the cleaned wound. Her gloved fingers gently pushed the edges together, nodding to herself in approval.

"You tell them that Devika Wilkes-Lane educated you about your right to refuse any medical treatment or procedure you do not want. The 'science guys' can go fu- ... " Her voice trailed off, and Devika cleared her throat. "They can go get bent," the quietly furious little woman corrected herself quickly.

Hob chuckled as he accepted the loaded plate and put it before him, eyes dancing with delight. "Oh, believe me. I'll be back." A moment of honesty caused his eyes to flicker with a moment of doubt as he reached first for another cookie. The sandwich looked so... impossibly delicious that he almost didn't know if he could eat it and do destroy the perfection he saw it in. "If I can."

Glancing up again, he smiled at the couple. They looked cute, the way all potential couples might when they first started out. "Have fun, you two!"

Jack was more than easy going, although from his point of view he didn't see why she might want to change. He thought she looked... and smelled... just fine! If he had any expectations when Penny mentioned going back to her place, it didn't show. "Sector B?" he asked politely with eyebrows raised. "Some easy! We goes from where we are here down over to Corridor 19C, see? Den der's a left. Can't go any which ways but left, but left's the way. Goes into Corridor 26C. Now to gets from where you're at der to, der's dis hatchway marked Zed-49-C. You don't want dat. Instead, you goes a gunshot further along til you finds yourself at Corridor 12B an' takes that to B Section proper. From 12B you then goes along to the elevator dat will take you up to Residential B. Now 117 is at the far end-"

He stopped suddenly, realizing he was losing her. "Tell you what, duck. How's I just takes you where it is der to from where we are now, b'y."

Happy to have Penny arm in arm with him, Jack led her back towards her quarters. He pointed out a few landmarks along the way to help her navigate a bit better in the future, small tiny things that would help her differentiate one passageway from another in the future. Should things look promising down the line, Jack pondered taking the shortcuts that were available to him as a ship's custodian. There were access tunnels and the like he had access to which were off limits to most other personnel, places he could go where no one would look twice at him if he had a mop in hand. It was just such a place he intended on taking Penny for their first date.

Like a gentleman, Jack saw her to her door and after giving her a friendly wink strolled down the hall a little ways to wait in the lounge. It was a small communal area where folks could gather to talk, play games, dance, watch movies, and otherwise entertain themselves off duty. It was important for people to have their leisure time, Jack knew. Command seemed to have agreed. The only thing these residential lounges lacked was anything remotely resembling alcohol. While a far cry from being a lush of any kind, that did worry Jack. Was New Canaan to be a dry colony? Were the arts of brewing and distilling to be lost to mankind during their journey across the stars, or was Command simply banking on someone having the know-how to do these things properly once they were all settled?

His musings were brought short when Penny appeared again, washed and changed for their date. The very sight of her caused his jaw to drop just a bit. Jack had to admit he had been flat out wrong about not seeing her need to change, and difference between then and now truly made his heart flutter a bit.

"Laird-d-thumpin' Jaysus," he breathed in appreciation. A wider smile came to his lips as his eyes danced merrily.

Connor frowned at the change in Devika’s demeanor, she seemed to be having a pretty strong reaction to his situation. That worried him because he didn’t understand why she would care that much. It was probably because she was a caring person and even if he wasn’t officially her patient, she felt all of her patients. Even brief one’s like him.

The paranoid part of him wondered if she was upset for another reason, only one she knew.

“I don’t intend on letting them bully me.” He assured her, accepting the green squeeze ball. He looked down at it and winced when she started to clean the wound. He merely shook his head at her inquiries about pain and focused down on the ball.

As she worked he squeezed it with every sting of pain while also sucking in a deep breath through his nose.

It hurt, but he could put up with it. He’d broken his knuckles on engines before, the small cut on his arm didn’t hurt as much as broken bones.

Once again he grew silent while she worked, not knowing what to say. Though he was glad that she wouldn’t be pressing him to his MRI appointment. It was bad enough he was wasting time here getting stitched up rather than working.

When Devika was finished he found that he had overestimated how long it would take to patch him up. It hadn’t taken that long at all and now he didn’t have to worry about bleeding all over the mining pods engine.

Once the last bandage was tucked he jumped off of the examination table and turned to Devika with a small grin. “Huh, that wasn’t too bad at all.” He said, setting the stress ball back on the examination table. “Thanks for putting up with me and taking care of my arm. I’ll go ahead and get out of your hair.”

He spoke while walking toward the door, giving her a small wave. “Thanks again.” He said again before slipping out the door and then breaking into a jog to head back to Hangar Six. It wasn't because he was running away from Devika, but rather he just really needed to get back to work.

Antoine watched the young woman who had collapsed into his room with a mixture of concern and amusement. Falls were deceptively dangerous little things, lading the wrong way could mean anything from a bad bruise to death, even from low heights. As a former combat medic and current medical technician, Antoine couldn't help the concern that followed his initial surprise.

It was obvious she had not expected the door behind her to open, as well. Stammered, backpedaling phrases, nervous twitches and rising color served as a flashing beacon to anyone that she was in an uncomfortable position. That was a concern all of it's own, one he would have to quickly assuage. He had stood out in the meeting and told everyone to speak with him if they had any worries regarding the cryo-beds or techs who watched over them... even if she merely stumbled upon his room, he could hardly leave her with a poor memory of the meeting.

And then... and then... well... the whole sight... the whole scene...

How could he not laugh? Not even chuckle, just a little bit?

He tried to hold it back, raising a hand to cover his lips and maintain as straight and concerned a look as possible. But it was... well... she was playing tag with [/i]Mowzer[/i]! How long had he heard of someone who wasn't a child doing that? When had it ever led to a young woman sprawling backwards into his room- one with such an amusingly endearing stammer to her voice?

It wasn't nice. He needed to stop. But it... there were just some times when... you just had to laugh.

"I think Mowzer's decided you're a fun one to play tricks on." He did, actually, manage to keep his mirth under control. He settled instead for a wide, toothy grin and shake of his head- which actually seemed to fit the whole scenario quite well. He shook his head some more to keep himself from embarrassing her further. "Though he's always does things like that to the ones he likes, so maybe it's a good thing?"

He shook his head again -it seemed fitting- shooting a brief glance towards Mowzer, who was now busy grooming himself from the tail up. Of course he was, that or napping seemed his usual reactions whenever someone started talking about him.

"Sorry to open the door on you, I'm Antoine." He held his hand out again, then paused, finally laughing now as he realized the redundancy of that action.

"Right- I suppose we already did the handshake part, didn't we?"

He made the way back to her place wonderful. It had been a confusing maze in the morning, with an embarrassing number of wrong turns and hallways that blended together. But under his tutelage it was all decoded. She didn’t understand one word in three that he said but that was fine. She liked to listen regardless of comprehension. As they walked arm in arm he pointed out some landmarks that she was certain would help out for her next shift. She did her best to commit them to memory. Reciting them mentally over and over to help her dull brain hold onto them. She didn’t want to let doubt of her ability cloud the moment and the sweet aid this man was giving her.

When he left her at her door she weighed her options. To shower like she wanted would take far longer than she felt comfortable making him wait. She still felt a little off-kilter about her realization and was still scrambling to re-adjust her thinking. All of which was putting some high color to her cheeks. She settled for just doing a quick clean up, gasping in horror when she saw the flour that still smudged the tip of her pug nose. She was mortified to think she’d walked the whole way home with him with that bit of white marring her nose. He must think she was a slob and that made the lack of shower bother her that much more. But she still didn’t want to keep him waiting, so a quick clean-up with a cloth and some water and then a change of outfit was all that she would allow herself.

A forest green sweater richly textured with braids and twists paired with some chocolate brown leggings and some cute ankle boots seemed in order. The sweater hugged her curves, giving the softness an even more touchable appeal and the color did good things for her complexion and her eyes. She brushed her hair out of the ponytail it had been in and made quick work of putting it into two pigtails that curved around her plump cheeks. Then she indulged in just a tiny bit of makeup, a sweep of neutral color on her eyelids. Just enough to mark that this was an occasion she had made an effort for, ritual respect rather than vanity all done with a cheerful unconsciousness. That done she stepped out of her quarters and quickly walked to the lounge.

His reaction was very satisfying for all that she secretly thought him half-mad for it. She blushed anew, bit her lip and fidgeted with the edge of her sweater.

“Sorry I kept you waiting.” She said, letting her eyes dart up to his face and then back down to the floor. “But I’m ready to um… er… step out.”

She walked to him and slipped her arm through his liking the little flutters in her tummy that the action brought on.

“So where are we stepping out to?”

'We could give it another go if you like though. I wouldn't mind... '

Pauline's pale blue eyes widened, shocked at the boldness of her own thoughts. Still, she somehow managed to slide the entirety of her expression into a sweetly surprised amusement, with a steady smile that promised the stammering, shaken woman really would have a grip on herself soon enough. She would have to - Father Heffernan would not be revived for another twelve years to hear her confession, after all.

Pauline subtly - she hoped - rubbed her sweaty palms against the edges of her too-large sweater, suddenly all-too-conscious of her borrowed clothing and her old, well-worn running shoes. 'Oh, and now, you're too good for the kind gifts of decent people who cared enough to clothe you, take you in and befriend you - all because a good-looking stranger might think you shabby?'

The thought sobered her quickly, like a bucket of ice water tossed in her face, though a soft smile remained nonetheless. Her faults were none of Antoine's, after all; and he was certainly taking the arrival of a strange, yammering woman flopped over his doorstep pretty well, all things told.

"Pauline. Pauline Weber - and there's no reason for you to be sorry at all," she answered him quite truthfully. "Your 'doorstep' isn't exactly a designated rest area, on a feline tag track, now is it? And you know something else?"

Pauline shrugged helplessly, chuckling softly to herself, shaking her head. "Go ahead. Laugh. You've got my blessing. It's all pretty darned funny, isn't it?"

She knelt beside that beautiful cat, grooming himself so fastidiously as if for all the world, he was not paying the least attention to either of these chatty humans. Well, he probably wasn't, not really. She rather suspected this was a creature quite used to being a center of attention wherever he went, and that such notice resembled nothing so much as the expected and fully deserved adoration of a monarch by his liege subjects.

"So you Antoine, are his... Owner? No, that can't be the right word. How about 'designated and privileged keeper' of Handsome... No, sorry Mowzer, is it? Well now at least I know he has a home - though I won't be telling my boss where that is any time soon. Mowzer really does not like being picked up, it seems," Pauline winced a little at the memory of Owen's hand, though she hesitated not at all to lay her own hand lightly atop the cat's head, scritching behind his ears while Mowzer continued to groom himself, as was his right and privilege, of course.

"And Mowzer is a trickster as well, is he?" She looked back up to Antoine's face, her eyebrows lifting curiously over that sweet smile. "How could you resist naming him Loki? Or Anansi, or maybe even Coyote - well, maybe not Coyote. I don't know that His Majesty Mowzer would be amused by a canine name, do you think?"

OLGA

OLGA’s digital mind was alight with a very human sense of excitement. Hob’s gesture had freed her of the only home she had ever known, and moving into the labyrinth-like realm of the Copernicus’ network was an experience akin to a child’s first breath outside the womb. Though she was driven by purpose, OLGA had to constantly remind herself to focus upon her task, and restrain her abounding curiosity. It was important that she accessed only as many systems as were absolutely necessary, as with each new breach her chances of being caught grew exponentially. Hob’s companions were good like that.

Currently, OLGA was delving deep into the logged security feeds from Second Shift from every active camera onboard the ship. In the vein of being thorough, she had chosen to start from the very beginning, and sift through all the data until Third Shift had begun their duty assignment. The amount of raw footage she had to cover was staggering, and even with her highly advanced computing power, it would take her hours, if not days to sort through it all in the detail it demanded.

In the midst of it all OLGA realized she had been receiving messages from Hob. It wholly out of character for her not to reply instantly to any message, especially from her dear friend. The fact that she had ignored them at first spoke volumes about the amount of processing work she was devoting to look through the security footage.



OLGA’s avatar smiled, her nose crinkling in a silent laugh. In an instant she had fired off a reply before setting back fully into her work.

---

Dr. Gavin Brock

Gavin skidded into the mess hall in record time. Immediately upon entering, his eyes began to anxiously scan the rows of tables for any sign of Abby. Being that the time was well past the peak lunch hour, the mess hall was relatively empty. When he didn’t see the blond sergeant at any of the tables, or waiting in the chow line, Gavin let out a heavy sigh of relief.

The moment he did however, a thought jolted him upward. What if she had been waiting so long she had left?

At this, Gavin’s relief turned to a groan of despair. He pulled the communicator from his pocket, and fired off a quick message of humble and imploring apology to Abby, and prayed that she would not fault him too hard for his mistake. It had been some time since Gavin had felt so wholly foolish, and he kicked himself for not being more cognizant of how long his meeting with Deli had taken.

Looking at the communicator’s screen, the message he had sent stared back at him. Awaiting a reply was always the most trying elements of such situations, and Gavin growled in a self-deprecation once more. If only I had lost that chess game faster, he thought, trying to relieve the stress he felt with some of his own witticism.

Taking a resigned breath, Gavin slid the communicator back into his Levi’s, and resolved that he should at least make the most of his trip to the mess hall, so the whole venture was not a complete disaster. In his earlier scan of the room he had spied Hob sitting at a table, veritably drooling over a sandwich. He knew from OLGA’s exchange with him in the briefing room that she had gone off to meet with Hob, so Gavin decided it wouldn’t hurt to check in with OLGA’s friend, and strike up some friendly conversation.

Gavin wove his way through the tables, and plopped himself across from Hob with a broad smile.

“Are you going to eat that?” Gavin said pointing to the sandwich with a wink, “or would you like me to check and see if we can have it bronzed?”

Jack smiled at Penny slyly, a glint in his eye that spoke of mischief to follow. "You get in go with me," he reassured her as he began to guide her away from the lounge and further back along B Section, "and you'll see yarself sumpthin'. Like you, I gots m'self lost when I first gets on the ship. Couldn't get one place to anudder w'out getting' skewed! Felt as silly as a bag a' nails, seein' as dat I were supposed to be cleanin' the place! Only den I finds dat de funny piece a' plastic they give me lets me go wherever I wants. No one bugs the man w' de mop, you see? So there's dem smart fellas all about, only dey can't go places what I can!"

They hadn't gone all that far before they came to an unassuming hatch in the corridor wall, simply marked as 'Maintenance Only'. With a flourish, Jack produced his pass card from his back pocket and slid it through the lock mechanism. A slight click and the door swung open. The corridor beyond was darker, narrower, but he stepped through and helped Penny after him as though they were out for a Sunday walk. Jack continued his narrative as he led her further inwards.

"A damn sight faster getting one place ta anudder dis way than weaving and wefting all about, b'y! I learned where everything were by taking these here short cuts, den tracin' my way back. And some of da tings I seen? I didn't know whether to shit or go blind! kept a scattered eye out while I were down here, an isn't it just like me granddad used to say? If you look for one t'ing, you'll find sumt'in' else! An' what I finds is dis."

At the end of the corridor, the Newfie swiped his card one more time to open the door. A cool, moist gust of air swept past them as they entered out onto a massive catwalk. There had been a small difference in air pressure. A wavering blue light played across their eyes to reveal that they stood inside of a massive tunnel that went from bow to stern. It seemed to run the length of the entire ship! One could scarce see one end for the other. Additional catwalks were placed all about the cylindrical walls, some leading to wide platforms that doubled as some kind of workstations. That was not the amazing part, however. The truly stunning surprise was the view...

The catwalks looked out over a wide shaft of blue, and it wasn't until one squinted that it became apparent that this thick tube was filled with water... and animals. Huge basking sharks quietly drifted by schools of various fish. The presence of black and grey orcas and belugas gave evidence that somewhere along the line there must have been a place for mammals to surface, as well. A massive harbor seal swam past Jack and Penny, seemingly winking at them with one black eye, the other eye a milky white; one of its hind flippers was a prosthetic thing of silicone and fiberglass. The entire giant cavity smelled of wetness and fresh air. The only sound was a faint thrum in the air from unseen machinery chugging away. It was like entering a cathedral or temple.

"I hears this has somethin' ta do w' providing the ship air, dis an' the gardens both." Jack's voice had dropped to a reverent hush as he watched the spotted harbor seal spin slowly out of sight to skirt a dark shadow that might just have been a great white shark on the far side of the tank. "Some engineerin' fella also tell me dis all has some all to do w' gravity. You knows, why we don't goes all floating 'bout. Don't know much 'bout either, Penny. Some beauty, though, to find the sea coming' w' us." Despite his uneducated background, the Newfie knew it must have taken one hell of a feat of engineering and construction to create just this much of the Copernicus. Considering the weight of all the sea water and freshwater sections combined, it made it all the more amazing they have ever been able to leave orbit!

Jack turned away from the view to lean against the guard rail, and he turned his head to regard Penny's expression. He hoped she liked the surprise! Not many folks knew of the hidden aquatic system that provided water, filtered it, allowed for fresh fish, and even kept their feet on the floor. Technically he wasn't supposed to be using his badge to access off limits areas when not on duty, but he'd come down to the interior of the ship before on his off time and no one had stopped him. Granted, that had been before lift off. No one seemed to be rushing towards them now to shoo the pair off, anyway, so Jack simply relaxed and watched Penny. He loved her face. It was so alive, so expressive! Her enjoyment or boredom would show on that face clearly, he felt, and as much as Jack dreaded the latter he hoped for the former.

"S'not a walk by the seaside," he commented quietly, his Newfoundland little and accent softening into something easier to understand, "but given we're in space, it's best kind, b'y."