Gavin laid into his sandwich while Abby began to answer his question. He smiled as he chewed, noticing just how much of a monstrous portion the sergeant herself was setting to consume. Though Gavin had little reason to think otherwise of Abigail Larson, it was a refreshing sight to see an attractive woman who could appreciate a hearty meal.

As Abby continued with her answer, Gavin nodded with a swallow. Of course there were people with varying lengths of shift work, he should have known that much. His shift was indeed going to be longer than most, and they were dozens of other jobs that required more technical knowledge and experience than the remainder of the human race had to spare so every shift was of equal duration.

“You’re right, of course.” Gavin said to Abby. “I should have let that question rattle around in my own head a bit longer before I chose to spit it out. Must be going senile,” he smirked.

Placing his sandwich upon the plate, Gavin wiped at his mouth with a napkin. His brow drew down into a more serious expression. “The reason I did ask, however, was just to sate some rather ugly curiosity. At first blush, it truly seems to me that Sylas Adams lacks the capacity, force of will, and even technical wherewithal to carry out the crimes he committed...”

Gavin let his last statement linger in the kitchen for a moment. His blue eyes turned up to look at Dr. Park for a moment, then turned to gaze at the blond haired security officer seated nearby.

“…At least, alone.”

"Four," Park said, with as serious an expression as he could muster, accepting Abby's mustard jar with all manner of pomp and circumstance. He huffed and he puffed and he quietly twisted off the lid, all the time keeping an ear toward the shift talk going on to either side. He'd been assigned his fourth year, one more than his former, he assumed, because of his relative seniority. But now...

He felt his tablet vibrate at his side, and immediately, though with an unhurried care, turned the entirety of his attention toward the incoming message. Suppositions on a dead man were all good and well, given the circumstances. But he had real, almost-clients here and now, and if ever one of them so much as breathed a thought that they might require his aid, he would be there.

As it were, he only smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in genuine pleasure as he read Pauline Weber's message. He had yet to meet the young woman in question, but even the pixels of her words seem to exude a light and hope most would have guessed impossible. It was...refreshing, to say the very least.

Pushing his glasses to slide a bit down the bridge of his nose, he squinted at his tablet, tilting it to and fro, until at last he was able to type some semblance of a message back -- No pressure to come see me today, Pauline. Just letting you know my door is always open. That said, if you're up for it, I would love a tour of the gardens. I hear you're very familiar! -- before he tucked his tablet away and returned to the conversation at hand.

"I'll take that, if you don't mind," he said, with another smile at Abby, nodding at the veritable tub of pickles behind her, though his tone was a bit more distracted. He had, he thought, a good idea of just precisely where Gavin was going with his otherwise enigmatic question, because he'd been thinking much the same himself.

The details made available to him on the strange and tragic case aboard the mostly-sleeping Copernicus had pertained largely to Sylas Adams's mental state, as well as the states of those impacted by his actions. He'd heard snippets here and there, mostly gossip and whispered judgments, but nothing he took all too much to heart. Even so, spare as the details might be, he could not begin to conceive how so elaborate and odd a plot could be carried out by a single man, in particular one so utterly...normal. For once, it was not the man's state of being that stood out to Park, but the action itself. It was rare -- very rare -- that he reduced people, patients or otherwise, to their (probably criminal) acts. It was, he'd found, the quickest way to alienate and literally dehumanize.

But in Adams's case, he made the necessary exception, and had come to the same conclusion Gavin had by the time the younger doctor swept an inquiring gaze his way. Park looked back sagely enough, his appetite temporarily muted over his open-face not-so-melty tuna melt.

"Pardon me for looking ahead," he interrupted quietly, "but, reading between the lines, Gavin, it seems you have some concerns any...accomplices Adams may have had may still be...around?"

---

Deli started violently when she heard footsteps echo outside her office, and only then knew she wasn't really fooling herself. There was, had been for years, really, a very precise reason she was now crouched on the floor of her office in a nest of old papers, candy bar wrappers, singed wires, and dissipating wisps of smoke. Or perhaps there were several. In any case, the primary one was evasion of thought, and none of what she was doing just now was helping.

"Ay," she muttered to herself as a slow consciousness began to return.

Like any daydreamer worth her salt, Deli could lose herself for hours in whatever project seemed most compelling at the time. Parents, teachers, friends, even Deli herself had been somewhat alarmed by the intense focus that could sweep over a girl who, half the time, forgot to finish sentences. There'd been days when she was younger she wouldn't eat or even use the restroom until her mother physically dragged her, dazed and usually annoyed, to her feet.

She'd been in a similar trance just before her brother had died. She knew, because her father's lawyer had tried to call it something, something it wasn't, a seizure or dream or hypnosis or something. She'd plead guilty after that.

Right now, there was nothing and no one dead around her, just a pile of metal scraps and gears, and half a can of oil she was probably going to get yelled at for later on. She could tell by the faint smell of burned hair, and the blisters forming on the back of her hand that she'd done something wrong (or right?), and had the random thought that she ought to crack a window before Reece or Curmy found her. But then she remembered that might actually, literally kill all of them, and while it made for a genius comic scene in her head, she didn't think Curmy would look all that great, frozen screaming at her for eternity.

Instead, she reached automatically to one side, seized a handful of gummy bears, and absently shoved them into her mouth, humming under her breath as she squinted at the notes she was knelt on top of. Pages on pages of the physical and chemical makeup of the blasting materials (and/or mineable asteroids) she was supposed to be studying. A cursory glance told her she knew most of what she needed to know, or at least the jargon-y bits of it, just from her term serving on the Mountain, though detail recollection had never been her strong suit. She was much better at improvising.

She was sort of curious what she could say to get Reece to trust her out in the dark.

Remembering Reece made her remember that conversation she wasn't looking forward to in the slightest, and then a morbid curiosity pushed her to peek at who it was who'd interrupted Deli Time. She looked out into the hangar (still gnawing on a hunk of solidified gummy gelatin so dense it made her jaw hurt) just in time to see a flash of blue and brightened instantly.

"Hey!" she called, abandoning her work, metal scraps and all, behind the door on which she'd hung a construction paper sign labeled, "DELI'S PLACE!"

"Um...Hey...Blue! Come back, where'd you go? I have gummy bears, you want some?"

Connor stopped walking when he heard someone yell 'blue' and back tracked until he was back to where the offices were at. He cocked his head to the side a bit at the sign on the door Deli was standing in front of. She got an office? That was a surprise to him, though maybe that was where she stored all of the C4. "Hey Deli." He greeted after shaking his head to clear away the thoughts. "Um, no thanks, I don't like gummy bears. If you have sour worms or belts then give me a call." He said with a chuckle, putting his hands into the pockets of his jumpsuit.

A strange smell drifted to his nose and he made a face while giving the air a few sniffs. "Is that...burning hair?" He asked, frowning at Deli and glancing over at the door. "What are you doing in there? Or do I not want to know?" He questioned with a small teasing grin.

He shifted awkwardly on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck before pointing his thumb over his shoulder. "Listen, I hate to just dart out of here but I've really got a lot of work to do on these pods. I've already wasted enough time getting dragged to the infirmary because I sliced my arm open." He said, jerking his bandaged arm a bit so Deli would see what he meant. He hoped he didn't sound too rude, the last thing he wanted was to offend someone in charge of explosives.

"So, I'll talk to you later, okay?" He flashed another smile and lifted his hand into a small wave before turning to head back over to Loretta. He trotted up the loading bay ramp into the small ship and stopped by the cockpit first to make sure that the mining pod system was still disconnected from the Copernicus's. The last thing he needed right now was the engine mysteriously turning on again.

The thought of it made him frown as he walked back to the engine bay. He would definitely have to talk to not only Reese but his mechanics about that particular glitch. If it could even be called that. He didn't know much about software but he did know these pods like the back of his hand. It wasn't as though there was just one on and off switch to turn these machines on like that. It took a series of 'switch flipping' so to speak to turn on the engine, mostly because it would be a hell of a safety hazard.

Maybe he had better let the man know now, especially before he crawled back into the engine.

With that thought in mind he pulled out his tablet, as he wasn't really sure if Reece was still in the hangar or not. Mr. Reece, it's Connor. There was a bit of a mishap with Loretta. While I was working on the engine, the ship basically activated itself. It might be best to talk about it in person, so I'm in the engine bay when you have a free moment.

After sending the message he put his tablet away and climbed down the ladder back into the engine compartment.

Hob's remained shut while the nurse punched the code that would slide his body up into the darkness of the recess, cutting him off from light and any sound other than the faint hum of the machinery about him. The mask was secure about his face. The scent of the rubber mixed with the cold ness of the oxygen mix as it began to supply him with the only air he'd have while he was inside. He didn't want to watch the darkness creep over his body as his bed was slid into the socket nor watch the hatch close tight at his feet. Instead he tried to focus on the seconds it would take before he was uploaded. If he focused on what awaited him right now, it took some of the anxiety out of all the 'what-ifs' should something go wrong.

But his eyes snapped open wide at the sound of Devika's words whispered into his ear. That was the first time anyone in charge of the NI-techs had said anything of the sort to them, ever. Moreover, the feel of her warm breath upon his ear and neck was an intimate contact he hadn't expected, and much like the reassuring pressure of her fingers as she squeezed his hand it shocked Hob. He didn't look at the petite nurse at all, simply stared straight upwards as his feelings reeled. What good was righteous indignation and a hatred of the system when a representative of that very system... apologized? Hob wondered how much of his anger had blinded him to the humanity of the people he'd learned to loath. Not that most of them did not deserve his disgust! Only could all of them be so horrendously callous? Couldn't at least a few of them have some spark of conscience? In his experiences, it seemed to much to hope for!

He closed his eyes in the final moments before it all went dark, forcing himself to relax as he awaited the final three clicks that would tell him the airtight hatch was now completely shut.

With a buzz and a flash that stunned all of his sense, Hob convulsed once-

- and found himself standing at Stonehenge. His avatar flickered briefly. Instead of a three-piece suit that looked as though it was created from the upholstery of a Volkswagen Beetle, Hob wore long white trousers and high collared dress shirt; a straw boater hat settled about his brown hair just as he donned a red and white striped boater jacket. The bright blue bow tie and white cotton cloves completed the outfit. Hob paused to admire himself, brushing imaginary dirt from the sleeves while murmuring, "Dyke van Dyke, eat your heart out."

Foregoing the cane, he strode the rest of the way up the hill towards where the other Watch was waiting for him to relieve them. Annette was dressed elegantly in red, her face painted up like a calavera. Singh was still wearing his gold Baliwood suit, while Tyson was just... Tyson- jeans and a Steeler's jersey. The boy made Hob want to shake his head in disgust. Even Yuriko added a slight anime-manga cast thing to her features, but Tyson simply remained himself to the core. It made the Watch leader wonder if that took more or less imagination in such a place.

Jerking his thumb over his shoulder towards where he had materialized, Hob shook his head and began to say, "You guys will not believe what just-" The looks on their faces brought him up short. Something was wrong. It was clear by their expressions that something disturbing had occurred while he was logged out, and whatever it was had to be far more important than a nurse whispering an apology. "What? What happened?"

"We found Sung Pak," Annette announced in a voice stricken with grief. "He's down by the links to the back-up server, just... frozen. God, Hob, he's... trapped between one moment and the next. Stuck in time. Like a program that locks up and doesn't respond."

Singh spoke up then, his rich voice rolling with emotion. "You'll forgive me if I am in no hurry to press Control-Alt-Delete for a force quit."

Annette was crying, tears starting to run down her cheeks. "I don't know if he's aware of anything or not, Hob. There's no way to tell! We contacted Engineering, and they don't know what to do. No one knew this was even possible, everyone just thought it was his brain or something." Angrily, she choked back a sob as her face contorted with rage. "I wished I'd never fucking volunteered for this."

The new rocked Hob. He hadn't known such a thing was possible either! To be trapped like that for eternity was a terrifying idea, and if it really was Sung-Pak's soul... spirit... whatever... that was caught up in some sort of never ending logic loop, then it brought a whole new set of disturbing questions to bear. "Have you told Medical?"

Further questions revealed that only Engineering and Central Command had been notified so far. As the rest of the Starboard Watch arrived and were filled in, Hob's mind raced to figure out which tasks to handle first. "Look," he finally said, "There's some weird changes going on on the outside. Harris has got this new assistant, Naomi something or other, said she's going to look into making things more comfortable for us: protein shakes, meals waiting for us, small shit like that. And there's this nurse, a Major." Hob went into detail about what had happened, leaving out how her breath had tickled the hairs pleasantly on his neck. "i don't know whether to trust this sudden change of heart or not. Not after recruitment, surgery, and training. Damn sure First and Second Shift would have mentioned if things had changed. Keep your eyes open when you log out. Seems like we're not the only guinea pigs on board, too. Ran into this blue haired kid works the mining pods, mentioned oh-so-casually about the chances of someone dicking around with his skull. And there's this Latino chick, Deli, a real live wire. Came across her while she was leaving Brock's office, and she mentioned something about having her brain scanned, too."

There was a quiet moment between the six of them as they all absorbed the possible significance of Hob's encounters. Their background thoughts were still there, hushed whispered just out of each other's range of comprehension.

A few more things were covered, mostly administrative, and then the other Watch dematerialized as they were logged out. Hob brought up the job list and they reviewed what had to be done. They split up the duties equally and by mutual agreement and compromise, Hob managing to swing troubleshooting duty for himself so he could track down the Ghost issue Connor had reported. Unsaid, it would also give him time to assist OLGA. When the trio split up to cover their chosen tasks, Hob lingered only for a moment before conjuring an elevator in the middle of the central stones. Inside, a button flashed "OLGA". Without even looking, Hob slapped the button and let the contrived conveyance shift him to wherever the AI was lurking.

All the while, he tried not think about the warm feeling of Devika's hand upon his own...

Abby laughed as she shook her head, rolling her eyes at the thought of Gavin's impending senility, and then took a large bite of her mostly Swiss cheese sandwich, flavored with a little turkey and butter lettuce and mustard. She chewed slowly, thoughtfully, as Gavin continued, determined not to choke on her food as the implications of Gavin's words slowly dawned on her, and she could have kicked herself for not seeing this before.

And as Park continued , all the other pieces Gavin hinted at fell into place, and a stomach-churning puzzle of the absolutely worst case scenario started coming together. No, it was not horrific enough a thought that the murderer would have had an accomplice - an accomplice who, for whatever reasons counted as "good" in the mind of a killer, Adams would not give up. But that this accomplice should still be flying under everyone's radar, completely above suspicion it seemed - and still roaming the Copernicus' halls?

Abby took another bite of her sandwich, having learned years ago that no matter the shitstorm hurtling all around, you'd best eat while you could, because God alone knew when the next opportunity would come. But the levity on her face had long since faded, and Abby sighed through her nose with frustration. Always best to assume the worst, she'd learned - a lesson that didn't really mesh with her naturally optimistic nature, though it sure did square right with most of human nature. Always assume the worst, and you're never disappointed - and sometimes, you even get to be pleasantly surprised.

Not likely, the latter, but that's why they call them "surprises."

"We planned to go see the helpful cryotech after lunch," she said to Park, a nod of her head and a small smile for Gavin to let the psychiatrist-pastor know just exactly who she meant by "we."

"The French gentleman, if you noticed him - well, the only cryotech with the guts to stand up and give his name at the briefing this morning, at least? Antoine Eadore. We were already hoping for a little insight into the mechanics of cryosleep, to see if Adams really did lack the capacity or wherewithal to commit those murders. And while we're hitting him up for his technical expertise, I suppose it can't hurt to see if he knew Adams too, or who - if anyone - Adams might have associated with too."

She wasn't going to start a panic on the ship that a murderer-rapist might still be walking among them - not yet, not until their conjectures had a little more substance behind them. Abby leaned over the counter and grabbed another pickle out of the jar by Park now, laying it on her plate for later. She let out a slow breath, and then realized she was scowling as the grim thoughts rolled through her thoughts. Quickly she shook her head, looked to Gavin and gave him a wan smile and a wink. 'You know, he's not a half-bad detective for an egghead scientist,' she thought, and the smile instantly brightened to a grin worth the name.

**********

Pauline was pretty sure that whoever she saw at her next OB appointment was going to be really proud of her. In absolutely no way was she shirking exercise in her pregnancy regimen, and particularly not today! Whether it was playing tag through the Copernicus' halls with Mowzer, or sprinting back to the office she'd just cleaned before she lost the job she'd worked so hard to get in the first place, Pauline just knew she was going to be sore later.

At least it would be that good, muscle-achy sore that said she'd been getting a pretty decent workout, and the young woman laughed as she snatched at the edge of the enormous hangar doors as she catapulted herself in a multi-colored knit rainbow back into Hangar Six. Almost... Almost Pauline rushed headlong to the office, but when she saw the azure flag of Connor's hair on the way to the office, she slowed to a job. shouting something about... Something about 'Loretta?' Starting on her own, and he had to talk to Owen?

Well that would probably keep her out of the office for a while yet - honestly, she wasn't having much luck today, getting back inside. Ah well, maybe at the very least, Owen hadn't really noticed her absence? Yet?

Pauline stopped jogging right outside "DELI'S PLACE!", bending forward with her hands on her knees before she turned toward the female plea and all its sugary promise. Panting softly, she turned to peer up to the pretty young wman with the lovely wild dark hair, her face a tender pink beneath the light smattering of freckles, only just starting to shine with sweat. "I'll... I'll take Connor's share... " she panted with a grin, "Silly guy doesn't... Doesn't get the amazing-ness of gummy bears... Does he?"

"What the hell do you mean he's 'caught,' Mr. Beale?" It wasn't so much her words really, that betrayed the little woman's unspeakable rage, but the deathly quiet way she spoke them: quick, clipped, and barely above a whisper.

"Caught, Major. Locked up like a computer with a nasty virus." The red-haired man in the navy blue jumpsuit looked serenely at the top of the little woman's dark head, taking a single deep breath and letting it out with a long, beleaguered sigh. Harris had warned him about the Major, the new medical officer for Third Shift - and in some pretty colorful language at that. He almost laughed, remembering the laundry list of expletives the Lieutenant had used to describe Major Wilkes-Lane, but caught the guffaw in time to keep it inside, deciding it really wasn't worth making this little pain in the ass angrier than she was already. Technically, she outranked him, and could still make his life uncomfortable is she really put her mind to it. Everything Lieutenant Harris told him about the Major said she'd probably make it a life's mission.

"And you did not think to tell the on-duty medical personnel first." This was a statement of course, and not a question. Hands on her slender hips, Devika glared up into Beale's face, her upper lip curled in a barely perceptible snarl.

"No ma'am, because there's nothing you can do," Beale answered, oblivious to the fact she hadn't really asked him at all. "That tech is dead, brain dead. Sad, but true." The boredom in his voice and the far distance in his eyes actually told her he was anything but, and Devika fought the sudden urge to kneecap the NI engineer. The only thing Mr. Beale didn't do was shrug. That probably saved him, his ability to walk away.

"No, he's not brain dead." Her small hands clenched into small fists at her side, though somehow, some way, she managed to force her visage back into something almost passive. Devika took a deep breath, her hand hovering over the console as she pulled up the display for Sung Pak's brain waves - not that it would tell the NI engineer anything, but she still felt some better confirming her own words.

"He's likely in a coma, a fugue even, but he's not brain dead and we need to get him out of there. I know the band cannot be removed prematurely without frying the temporal lobe." She did not tell Beale that it was Hob who had told her this; she somehow suspected if he knew, he'd have dismissed her out of hand. But as much as she hated to admit it, the NI engineer's words were coalescing into something that was beginning to resemble a cogent thought, and the words were at her lips before she even realized they'd traveled from her brain.

"Why don't we reset him?"

That got Beale's attention. "Reset him, ma'am?" For the first time during this whole encounter, the NI engineer's hazel-green eyes looked down into the dark mahogany eyes of the nurse, the first cold inklings of horror creeping up his spine.

"Reset him, a hard boot so-to-speak, like a computer that's seized up. Pull him out of the tube, but leave all the leads hooked up. Power down his chamber, then reboot, restart the equipment and put him back in long enough to regain consciousness."

'I only pray... '

Those words were spoken with a determined conviction she did not feel in the least, but she spoke them nonetheless. They could not leave Sung Pak as he was, his consciousness glitched into their virtual world, a torturous sight every time the others logged in -

"No." Beale shook his head vehemently, his already pale face turned an unhealthy ashen grey. "No, that's... No. Major, you don't understand, the exquisite sensitivity of the equipment that goes into the creation of those NI tubes. My boss is already going to have a fit when he wakes up, when he hears about those restraints you ordered removed. A complete shutdown, and a start up? That could fry an entire chamber - "

"You don't know that. And did you just tell me 'no?' Really? Mr. Beale, you must be out of your mind." Devika was merciless, pressing her bluff with all the conviction she had in her fiery soul.

"Ma'am, if a chamber is crisped, do you realize the damage that could do to our navigation systems? How important this equipment is just to get us safely through a universe filled with black holes and supernovas and the molten, pressurized cores of innumerable stars?" Beale's hands had fallen to his side, wide open and pleading with the little woman to understand the gravity of what she was asking, the danger she was tossing all the NI chamber equipment.

"Do you realize, Mr. Beale, that our NI techs are dropping like flies? Who knows which one will be horrifically injured next?" Deep brown eyes full of misery and suspicion and yes, even rage, flashed through her thoughts, her heart sinking with the thought of yet another sorrow added to the dead weight he already carried. Devika steeled herself. She had to do this, for him at the very least. She had to, for Hob.

"Or when? A day from now? A week? A year? We've only got just so many of these people left to us Mr. Beale, and we are only in the third year of our fifteen year journey! At this rate there will not be a single one left to see us to New Canaan. Your equipment is expensive as hell, no doubt. But those NI techs? They're the priceless ones."

"And so you, Mr. Beale, are going to follow my direct orders, this very minute. I am the Chief Medical Officer here, my purview falls over these NI techs and their health - and if I have to? I will have First Sergeant Larson and her MPs escort you out of here, and I'll replace you with someone who actually can follow a direct order. Do you understand me, Mr. Beale? If this man dies because you refused every measure at hand? I will make it my personal mission to see you court-martialed for dereliction of duty, and involuntary manslaughter. I promise you that."

There was a veritable mountain of bluff and bullshit in Devika's words, but the diminutive woman had long since learned that whatever she might lack in height, could easily be made up for in conviction, determination and sheer audacious presence. And she smiled - inwardly, of course - as the NI engineer's face went from grey to a very satisfactory shade of green.

Gavin nodded, swallowing another mouthful of sandwich. “Yes,” he said, wiping the crumbs from his moustache, “it would do us good to have a more educated opinion on both the culprit and his method. Paying Mr. Eadore a visit is still very much on the to do list. You should tag along, Park. It would be good to have a man educated in the ways of the human mind about to aid our little investigation. That is, to say, if you don’t have other pressing matters to attend to?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Gavin saw Abby look to him with the wink and the smile. He noticed at first that the expression was a wilted, half-hearted one, and then it soon brightened into a bow of pleasantness that lit up her entire face. Gavin was no expert in reading emotion, at least not any more than any other average person, but he thought he had a fairly good idea of what weighed on Abby’s mind.

The road that the small trio was now pursuing could end several different ways, but it ultimately came down to two major outcomes—that though a dullard, Sylus Adams had carried out his crimes on his own accord, as was believed, or something more sinister had taken place.

Gavin gave Abby a knowing, thin lipped smile in return. He wished nothing more than to have this strange circumstance behind them, and the rest of the crew aboard the Copernicus. There was too much to be done, too much at stake, for the last sliver of humanity to be worried about a cold-hearted killer and rapist having his shadow still lingering amongst them.

Pushing the small remainder of his sandwich away, Gavin shrugged. “I’m ready whenever you all are. I’ll admit, I’m hoping against all hope that in this instance I end up just looking paranoid.”

Antoine watched Ms. Weber leave, smile growing into a wide, heavy yawn that left him both tired and refreshed. An odd combination, but a pleasant one, suitable to follow the odd conversation that had just been held. Refreshing to speak with someone who had reason to shy away from cryo-techs like himself, but instead chose to dash fears grown from almost two weeks of rumor. It was a weight he had never felt as much as his fellow techs, but could still very much appreciate it being lifted from his shoulders.

"Alright now, Mowzer," His cat looked up from his comfortably-curled-up position on Antoine's lap, otherwise unmoving until his Human shifted beneath him. "Yes I know, but we can nap in a bed. Wouldn't that be nice?"

Mowzer sniffed, but stood and stretched, strutting ahead while Antoine closed the door behind them.

Like every room in the Copernicus, his was very, very small. A bed dominated the entirety of the far wall, beside a circular 'window' that would display whatever scene he desired. Cupboards lined one of the free walls, a long desk covered in papers, books and his personal tablet stood before the other two, curving between bed and door. He kept his room sparse, though looking through the collection of papers, books and magazines would clue anyone into who resided here. Language study, medical articles, texts on surgical advances and heavy tomes detailing every aspect of the cryo-beds and their computers for his reference. A quiet room for one who had spent little time in it so far, yet Antoine found it easy to call it 'comfortable'.

Yawning again as he prepared for his long-awaited nap, Antoine quickly checked a set of drawers under the desk by his door. The medicine he had been carrying with him today was stashed neatly inside, along with what he had left back here.

Still short, how could that be? He'd have to take some time later and search his room. One would think it'd be hard to lose something in such small quarters, but still...

A third yawn interrupted such unneeded thoughts, reminding him again of what was important. Bed, sleep, Mowzer already understood. The cat sat regally at the head of his once-made-bed, staring at his human in quiet order to provide a more suitable mattress.

"Yes, yes, I'm coming." Chuckling at the sight, Antoine made his way over and collapsed gratefully onto it's soft surface. He could change when he got up, he could do a lot when he got up. But now? Now, as Mowzer stepped onto his back and curled up once more, Antoine felt the desire to do nothing but close his eyes. And so he did.

She felt drunk on giddiness as she linked her arm with Jack’s and they strolled along the walkway. It had been a very nice kiss, sweet and sincere and not the least bit sloppy or gropey. She’d felt a moment’s self-consciousness when he’d put his hands on her hips. Unpleasant thoughts fueled by her sister’s teasing crept in and tried to ruin the joy of the moment. Did he feel how fat her butt was? How broad her hips? It was one thing to see, another to feel. We his fingers pressing into her softness as some sort of gauge? Was he measuring how much of the softness was her and how much her comfy sweater? Was the ratio ok? The thoughts died quickly though as he kissed her and kept at it. It was hard to hold onto such bitter old thoughts in the face of such sweetness. Though the doubts would creep back in, for the moment they were banished and Penny could just walk beside him and bask in the moment.

They were heading back, but unspoken agreement and that was just fine. There was a wonderful, dreamy quality to the date that she wanted to preserve. But still, they took their time, taking an alternate route back towards her room in a meandering, path that gave her plenty of time to appreciate just how well their paces matched.
Walking beside him in comfortable silence she recalled how they’d met. She grinned to remember his curious questions and his odd quest. She wondered if he’d been successful in his hunt for things other than molasses.

“Hey Jack,” she said breaking the silence and feeling bold enough to playfully bump him with her padded hip. “Did you find what you were looking for when you came to the kitchen? The pots and pans and stuff? Are we going to get our speakeasy?”

Park chewed his belated lunch slowly, somewhere between deep concentration, mild mourning, and planning the rest of the afternoon's would-be adventures. Certainly nothing could be so enlightening as another run-in with Mr. Bach -- or Hob, as it were -- though visiting that one brave cryo-tech could well prove to have its advantages, if for nothing other than sating his (albeit, morbid) curiosity.

And yet.

The fleeting glances, wordless smiles, quiet nods, and even strange, if charming, pickle exchanges had not gone unnoticed by the pastor-turned-preacher. He had long since suspected himself of having walked in on far more than an informative lunch, and despite all the care bath Gavin and Abby had taken to keep from making him a third wheel, it was quite clear he was fated to be one, nonetheless. He could not have been less involved on the higher levels of communication happening here if he'd been on a different human Ark entirely. And while burgeoning flirtation was yet a refreshing thing to see...well, even a pastor could only stomach so much subdued affection.

He smiled and finished off the remainder of his sandwich, standing to collect his plate and any other dirty dishes left unclaimed.

"Actually, you two, I think this is where our paths part. I've an appointment coming up soon I don't want to be late for, and there are a few things I want to grab from my office first. But if you'd like to go track down your cryo-tech without me, I'd be happy to give whatever an old man's opinion is worth later this evening."

Though somehow, he did not think the two would need him at all. But he did not add that part.

--

Deli watched Blue (Blue? No, his name had definitely been a name, not a color...right? Yeah, she was positive. Mostly positive) disappear into Reece's ship again, a technicolor bag of gummy sugar dangly from one outstretched fist.

"...'kay, bye..." she half sang after him, rocking forward onto her toes as she shoveled another handful of bears into her mouth. "Ah be 'ere'f you change'r min."

Then she turned her gaze to the pretty girl who had maybe just showed up out of nowhere. She thought maybe she'd seen her down in the hangers with Reece and Curmy before, but that might have also been a lie. Deli studied the newcomer for just as long as it took the other girl to assert herself, then beamed.

"You like gummy bears, too?" she said, thrusting the bag at the yet-unnamed girl, who looked to be even closer to her own age than Blue (Connor! That was his name! But Blue fit better) was, which was great, because she'd never really had a friend her age before, aside from her brothers, but they weren't here right now.

"I mean, it's okay if you don't, my mom hated them, she said they tasted like rubber, but I told her that was only those weird yellow ones -- do you like the yellow ones? Becuase if you do, you can have them all, but if you don't we'll just throw them away or -- " Deli quickly stopped herself saying what she'd been about to say, abruptly remembering Blue's 'burning hair' comment (she quickly shook her curls out her her eyes with a toss of her head; seconds later, they were obscuring her vision again), and instead offered her other hand, blistered and smudged with grease, but earnest nonetheless.

"Oh. Wait. Hi. I'm Deli. Do you work down here, too?"

A young man full of confidence and light-hearted joy, Jack had no such troubling thoughts while kissing Penny. He devoted himself to that moment and that moment alone. If any troubling thought had come anywhere near the Newfoundlander, it would have been much around whether or not she owned a "Kiss The Cook" apron. Beyond that, he had an armful of Penny. That was all that was important.

He led them back towards her quarters by the most meandering route he could devilishly devise, drawling out their time together as they talked on what they had seen in the ship's center. Hand in hand, the two were oblivious to the comparative chaos that they passed: a security detail hurrying someplace, a trio of older teenagers who so much resembled (and giggled) like one another that they had to be related, a couple of astro-navigation officers comparing notes as they headed for the bridge, another lost scientist (or was it the same one), and a powerfully built man whose head nearly scraped the ceiling grumbling about how his kids were going to be the death of him and when he found the three of them... It was nothing to Jack and Penny, however. They had each other in that moment, and it was a moment that Jack truly did not wish to see the end of any time soon!

When Penny brought up the still, he grimaced a little. "A speakeasy? Don't know it'll be all that grand. Leastwise not at the start of it. Just a bit to wet our whistles, though in time we might make enough to bring some cheer an' and leave folks stunned. Needs more than just screech, though. Maybe... maybe whiskey. Wine, too. Come ta t'ink on it, wine might be easier! Make wine outta any old t'ing, in a gumboot, even! Just needs some yeast and juice! Maybe you is on to sumpt'in, Penny, m'duck!" The grimace gave way to something else, a narrowing of the eyes and a wrinkling of the brow as Jack thought more on it. "A little place fer folks to unwind a bit, take der ease, b'y. I t'inks I knows just the place for it, too..."

Glancing at Penny sidelong, he squeezed her hand. "For the rum, still needs a slut. Big kettle wit a lid, like one a' dem pressure cooker chummy-jiggers. Gots plenty a tubing an' a condenser, right near a good source of heat, down in Environmental Control. Gonna needs bottles, though. Whatever we kin scrounge up. Take some doing', but doin's what a Pumphrey's best at!"

They were closer to her quarters now, close enough that Jack actually began to feel anxious about the date ending! It was one of the those times a person gets only couple of chances at in life, and being an insightful man Jack had gleaned that this just might be one of those times. He had no intention of spoiling it by forcing himself upon her. His only real hope was that she would agree to a second date... and perhaps another kiss, should he be so lucky. In reluctance for letting things end so soon, he stopped and took up both of her hands in his so he might look into her full and wonderful face.

"Penny, you given me an idear, no mistake, an' it's a grand one at dat, one you should be part of. So here's what I'm t'inking. I'm t'inking dat either tomorrah or day next after, you an' me go out again after work an' I'll show you where it's at I have a mind for a speakeasy of a sorts." Jack squeezed her hands together gently. "If you don't t'ink it's a good place for a screechin'-in, den we finds some utter place. Either way, I get to spend more time wit you an' you wit me an' I kin only hopes dat's to your likin'. How says you, duck?"

"Thank you Park," Abby said softly as he took up her empty plate, though she still had enough time to wipe her lips with a napkin and toss it away all on her own.

"And your opinion is worth an awful lot. Thank you for your insight on this too," she said sincerely. "We'll be sure to pass on anything worthwhile tonight. I feel better actually, with another reliable, solid thinker on board. Poor Dr. Brock was getting lonely there, with the only serviceable brain about."

Abby grinned at Gavin, chuckling just under her breath as she pushed away from the table. What did it matter really, that her banter felt thin? Strained? There was enough to trouble what little was left of the human race; humor was a small enough shield and defense. "So, let's go make sure you really are as paranoid as you think you are... " She took one of his hand in her own, still smiling as she made to haul the good geneticist to his feet. "Besides, I really just want to roll ourselves on out of here before Josey gets back and catches us," she shuddered comically, deep blue eyes wide with completely feigned terror at the very thought.

Abby cursed under her breath when a quick check of the station-wide roster on her tablet showed Antoine Eadoré was not on duty at the moment, which would have narrowed the search for the cryobed supervisor considerably. She glanced up apologetically to Gavin with a helpless shrug of her shoulders. "Well I suppose we could just go to his quarters, maybe offer up a prayer or two along the way that he's actually there? If not, well... We haven't taken to microchipping our people quite yet, no matter the convenience factor."

Her face suddenly brightened impishly as the pair made their way down the narrow hallways. "But I do know where we can find a veterinarian - just a thought now!"

**********

Pauline laughed as she caught her breath, which actually came out pretty wheezy but it was really pretty much all she could manage at the moment. "Hi there... I'm Pauline, and yes... I work here now too. Reece just 'hired' me... To help with the training programs... "

The young woman took that offered hand without a second thought, shaking it happily (though a little tenderly when she felt those blisters against her sensitive palm), taking the friendliness of Deli's chatter for a rather informal invitation to stop in for a while.

Pauline was totally good with this.

She leaned against the desk as she let Deli's hand go, peering over toward that contraband gummy bear stash with a hungry, twinkling light in her pale blue eyes. She lay one hand against her chest, took a single large breath, letting it out slowly as she began all over again.

"And yes, I do like the yellow ones. Don't get me wrong now - not near so much as those little kinda white clear ones that taste a bit like pineapple? But I'm not so picky a all that - I'll take whatever you'd like to share Deli, I don't mind at all." As if to prove her point, Pauline snatched up the nearest of the bright yellow gummy bears with a grin, popping it in her mouth to suck on for a bit. Sure, gummy bears were for chewing, but these might very well be the last gummy bears left in the universe. There was absolutely no way she was going to rush these precious moments.

"So what is it you do here in Hangar Six, Deli?"

Whiskey and wine, sluts and yeast, she grinned and wrapped her mind around them, little problems that were more immediate and more easily solved than the bigger ones humanity faced. She could do something about the little ones, and nothing about the bigger ones so she focused on that.

“It doesn’t need to be grand,” she reminded him. “Anything we do will be grander than what we have.”

But she liked the idea of whiskey and wine and began to run through all the things that passed through her hands on shift. Bottles a plenty, or rather containers made of some plastic-carbon-polymer-substance that was somehow degradable and easily reformed. She didn’t know much about it but she wondered how much of it could be used for booze making. She’d have to nab and wash a few next shift and get them to Jack to see if they could be used. She hadn’t rummaged through the main kitchen storage much, but she was betting something was back there and Josey had seemed open to the whole still concept. She’d have to up her level of help. Especially now that Jack was talking in We about the whole speakeasy idea. She liked that. It gave her something to do to fill her time outside of work when she knew no one and got lost so easy. And more than that it gave her time to see Jack. The thought made her grin and her soft cheeks reveal their deep dimples.

“I’d like that Jack.” She said, enjoying the idea of them hunting up anything together. She brushed her thumbs lightly over the backs of his work, rough hands and added “I’d really like it.”

She was certain wherever he had in mind would be perfect, she was a little peripheral for that end of their growing plans, but she could be helpful somewhat in acquisitions.

“I can get us yeast,” she said, “but it will be the kind more suited to breads, not the wild yeasts that would have grown on the skins of grapes and apples. I don’t think that sort of yeast exists any more outside of the labs if even there.”

Her father had been a passionate oenophile and she’d absorbed quite a bit of the knowledge even if she’d never quite caught his passion or inherited his palate. He’d waxed passionate more than once about the subtle ways the natural yeasts found in each region would change the characteristics of the wine produced, even if the variety of grape was the same. Would that have been something the scientists would have thought of? Probably not. There were so many hidden things that affected so much, things people never even thought of.

The fact that her father would probably be horrified at what she was about to do somehow made her even more determined to do it. No, it wouldn’t be what he would condescend to drink. It would be different, but it would be just as valid. She recalled Jack’s earlier words about the humble things having more value in the new world and it made her even more determined to make this little place for humble folks, real people, to have some fun.

They were outside her door now and he was holding her hands in just the sweetest way. It made her bite her lip and scuff her feet.

“Well,” she said cleverly. “This is my place…” she trailed off and shyly looked up at him. The painful sweetness of the moment not lost on her even as she reveled in it.

Mike entered Hangar Six, clipboard in hand, Cpl. Lopez and Specialist Sczruba hot on his heels.

“Big place,” Sczruba muttered, his eyes panning the massive space. Lopez gave a low whistle in agreement.

Nodding his agreement, Mike reached out and slapped both men on the back, then strolled further inside, ignoring the various pilots and mechanics who bustled about, hard at work.

It was laid out almost identically to the hangars they’d already been through; 400 yards wide, 150 yards deep, with five bays for the team’s five mining ships nestled side by side, delineated by bright yellow safety lines painted on the ground. A larger bay stood at the far end, containing the massive recovery and rescue ship that would be sent out in case one of the mining pods came to harm.

Waving his two senior men over, Mike scanned his clipboard before pointing towards the door they’d just entered from.

“Pretty much the same score as the last five, gents,” he said, flipping through the pages until he reached the Emergency Procedures handout. “We secure this one the same way we would any of the others. It’s big, but there’s only two entrances, so as long as we have a clear field of fire and some cover, it shouldn’t be hard to keep somebody out.”

Not that he anticipated having to do so; the tactics and responses they were working on were for repelling boarders or putting down a mutiny. Neither of those seemed terribly likely, but his crew had to cover it. The Marine knew first hand that planning for every possible eventuality was key. In the outlandish event that his boys had to secure one of these hangars, he didn’t want them walking into it blind.

“So, machine-gun and a rifle on the far door, the other three cover the near door,” Sczruba said, briefly removing his cover and running a hand over the bristles of his shaven head.

Lopez nodded. “Yup. Casualty collection point at the back, by the storage room.”

“And if we’re overrun?”

“Heavy suppressing fire. Commandeer a ship, boogy out the air-lock, then loop back into one of the other hangars and assault from another direction.”

“Good.” Mike said, nodding. “Last Stand actions?”

“Seal suits. Blow the door. Suck the whole bunch of ‘em into space, and hope we survive long enough to get picked up by the MPs.”

Nodding grimly, Mike gave both men a gallows smile. “Hopefully it won’t come to that.”

Glancing towards the offices, Mike caught a flash of strawberry-blonde hair and grinned broadly, slapping the clipboard into Lopez’s chest.

“Yes. Excellent. All of that. Keep doing...This stuff. I’ll be back.”

With that he spun on his heel and bee-lined towards the rear of the hangar, leaving his two (slightly perplexed) men to finish looking over the Emergency Procedures for Hangar Six. They’d already done it five times; he figured they could handle this one on their own.

Mike crossed the distance between the offices and the door at a rapid pace, slowing as he reached the young woman he’d spoken with earlier.

“Hey!” he said, beaming and giving her a small wave. “Pauline, right? You feeling any better?”

Park watched the two go with a faint smile on his face, deciding if this 'Josey' character was even half as intimidating as their head of security made him sound...well, maybe it wouldn't hurt to stick around and scrub a few dishes. It was some time yet before he was to meet with Pauline, and the quiet familiarity of soap and bubbles was somehow more soothing than anything else he might have hoped for in the moment.

--

Deli couldn't remember having seen Pauline during the briefing, but that was hardly unusual. The young demolitionist was forever getting little details like that, and she was notoriously hopeless putting names to faces in the first place -- hence her penchant for nicknames, as with Curmy and Blue.

She had not, however, named Reece anything, and while she was more or less oblivious to Pauline's labored breathing, she hadn't missed the bit about being hired. Deli tilted her head to one side rather like an inquisitive bird, rolling an orange gummy bear around on her tongue as she tried to figure out why the simple line sat so strangely with her. Not bad, of course. Deli didn't dislike many people at all (she had been downright rude with Dr. Park, and she only "nothing'd" him), and certainly not anyone who was so willing to eat more than her fair share of the yellow gummy bears.

But it was strange. And she couldn't, for the life of her, place just why.

"He hired you?" Deli asked outright after a moment, her expression somewhere between awe and disbelief. "Wow, Reece must like you. Or you're real good at your job," she added with a grin, suddenly more curious than suspicious. "Hey, if you work with the training programs, maybe you can -- oh. Hi."

Deli dropped the sentence as abruptly as a child might drop an old toy for a new one when the newcomer walked up. She'd never been very shy, so she spared him only half a glance before getting back to the matter at hand -- her new friend, and her new friend's talents -- and then did a double take as her brain registered everything else about this stranger.

This absurdly, magazine-center-fold-of-the-year handsome stranger.

"...oh," said Deli again, and went abruptly, uncharacteristically pink. "Guay..."

She only barely registered that the newcomer was speaking to Pauline, or at all, and it was as if from a great distance she heard him ask after Pauline. Curiosity piqued in the back of her mind again, but it was quickly overwhelmed by the desire to keep staring at the new kid.

And to speak. She knew how to do that. Didn't she? Yes. Sort of.

"Do..." she stammered, then swallowed and tried again. "Do...you...bears?"

Gavin bade Dr. Park farewell, and joined Abby in the corridor—a decidedly safe distance from the pantry, and the wrath of its keeper. He fell into a contented silence as they began winding their way down the passage, with Abby speaking about microchipping the staff, and the likelihood of finding Antoine in his quarters.

In all honesty, Gavin was only half listening to Abby’s words. His mind was still yet divided between the various scenarios in the case of Sylus Adams, as well as the lingering headiness the brief moment in which Abby had taken his hand inside the pantry had granted him. The latter was a juvenile perception, Gavin was aware enough of that, but nonetheless that singular instance had sowed a seed of emotion he had not felt since his days at university.

There was little doubt that Abby’s taking of his hand had been nothing more than a means to get the lot of them, Dr. Park included, up and out of the kitchen area before Josey returned. The contact itself had been only fleeting, and wholly a movement of function, and not of sensuality.

Or was it? said one half of Gavin’s thoughts with a pleasant coloring of happiness.

The other half scoffed. Are you truly doing this right now? Dissecting the intricacies of your hand being held?

You’ll shut it, the first half retorted, if you know what’s good for you, damn it!

It was only then, amidst his inner turmoil, that a part of Gavin realized he had been walking for some time in silence, with Abby walking somewhat nonplussed beside him as she awaited a reply.

Clearing his throat, his face reddening slightly, Gavin at last regained his full mind. “Oh, um, yes. Please forgive me, I seem to have taken a leave of my own senses for a moment.” He chuckled, as much to emphasize his apology, as to poke fun at himself. “I suppose in this instance, I’m keen to give our man’s quarters a go. Although,” Gavin said with a twinkle in his eye, “we may yet need to visit the vet—she might need to examine me after that little out-of-body experience I just had.”

>>Collab between Justric and AmongHeroes<<

OLGA sat upon crossed legs, her eyes darting rapidly over the footage data which streamed in a blur before her. Thanks to Hob’s gift of freedom, OLGA lingered comfortably within the Copernicus’ server farm, wrapped in an oversized sweatshirt with the same Cal-Tech logo that he father loved so much. Her knees, folded as they were, bounced distractedly as she went about her work. She had been at it for several hours now, pouring over the footage of Second Shift, and the digital woman counted it a blessing that there was no subroutine in her programming to account for humanlike fatigue.

She had yielded nothing of interest yet, though she was hopeful something would appear. There’s simply too much here for it all to be a waste of time, OLGA thought. I wish Hob would show up to help…

As if on cue, Hob materialized into the digital world scant seconds later. Being within the server network, OLGA had little control over the appearance of their surroundings, and so currently the two of them resided in a space virtually indescribable to the human mind. Still, even within their singular location, OLGA turned to Hob and gave him a dazzling smile. She pushed a lock of light, golden hair behind her gauged ear before patting the “ground” beside her.

“Speak of the devil, and he shall appear,” OLGA said, her nose crinkling. “Take a seat and we can share this blockbuster film together. We’re still in the ‘build up’ stage of the plot, unfortunately.”

As the elevator doors slid open, Hob's mind automatically began to fill in the cyber-limbo with details and scenery. The human imagination abhors a void, and so his filled it. Like a wave it flowed out from him in a vast and ever expanding globe, mixing metaphors as it went to make some sense of where in the computer's system he and OLGA had come to be at. The smell of sweet hay and grass filled the air, a warm August's breeze tugging playfully at her hair. Then a vast barn arose up around them, outside of which could be seen a vintage farmhouse and a rolling landscape that was pulled directly out of a Bob Ross painting. The structure of the barn was classic, right down to the hayloft above them. Hob's clothes readjusted themselves as well. Instead of the snazzy boater's jacket and hat, the NI-tech was decked out in jeans and a t-shirt with a green John Deere baseball cap that had seen better days.

Out of twisted humor, Hob's imagination placed one additional feature near the door. True to his early message to her, it was a big thing. Made of hay. All in a stack.

The contents of the barn, however, were not what one would find in a normal farm setting. The walls were lined with metal filing cabinets. Against the back wall was a movie screen upon which flickered footage from an ancient projector in the middle of the floor. To Hob's perception, OLGA was rifling through the contents of a file cabinet at superhuman speed while glancing at the moving picture now and then as if to confirm what she was reading.

"Hey, what can I say?" Hob snickered as he walked up to her, "I'm a man of wealth and taste!"

A folding chair came to being in his hand, and he flipped it open to then sit and watch both her and the movie. There was no point in his digging into the same files. Better to wait until the next reel change. In the meantime, he tried to focus on the feature film.

"You hear about Sung Pak?" he asked awkwardly after a few moments. "They found him. All... locked up like a buggy app. No one knows what to do. There's been a Ghost sighting, too, only in a mining pod; you know, the last place a Ghost should have access to? I'm also getting the horrible feeling that Command is planning on 'recruiting' more people to become NI-techs. Meanwhile, there's some staff who started becoming all nicey-nicey with the NI-techs, and I'm not sure if I should be thankful or suspicious."

Glancing back over at the teenage girl, Hob chuckled wearily. "Sorry, dear. Let's try this again. How was your day? Any progress? I don't think anyone on the outside knows you're loose, by the way. Oh, and I might have... pissed off your Dad. A bit."

OLGA smiled and laughed lightly, looking about to the fruits of Hob’s imagination as it filled the digital void around them. She noticed the large haystack affectation near the barn door, and she gave an exasperated nod of agreement.

“Your wit is so very subtle and nuanced,” she said. “Though certainly accurate.”

Leaning back with her legs still crossed beneath her, OLGA propped herself upon her palms. She gave Hob her full attention as he continued, speaking of Sung Pak and Ghost spotted within the mining pod. A deep frown crossed over the avatar’s delicate face, and her bright eyes darkened with concern.

“Oh my God. Hob, I had no idea.” She searched her friend’s face for a moment, almost not believing what she was hearing. “A Ghost…? I…how did this happen? And getting to NI-techs? This shouldn’t be possible. All the systems get defragged every twenty-four hours right?”

A thought came to her, and the petite woman rose quickly from her place on the barn floor. She stepped towards Hob, where he sat upon his folding chair, regaled in his John Deere cap. When she reached him, OLGA waved away Hob’s question about her progress and the statement about her father.

“Forget all that.” OLGA bent at her waist until her emerald eyes were level with Hob’s. Several stray strands of blond hair freed themselves from her messy ponytail, and fell before her face. “Hob, you just began your shift. You don’t have to go looking for that Ghost do you?”

Looking into OLGA's eyes, he found there was no way he could deceive her or simply put it off. If anyone onboard cared about Hob, it was OLGA, and he'd be damned before he lied to her. With a tired smiled, he reached up and tucked the stray strands of hair behind her one ear tenderly. "Not immediately, but it's on the work docket for whoever drew the short straw for doing troubleshooting this watch. Which was me. So I could spend time with you. Helping you, I mean. I've to have something to show for my time away from processing astro-navigational corrections and regulating the waste disposal systems. And it's kind of weird, don't you think? No one's seen any Ghosts since start of Second Shift, now one pops up in a mining pod's communications! And it was one of mine, OLGA! How freaky is that?!"

Leaning back into the metal chair, Hob sighed and pushed the baseball cap further back on his forehead. "De-fragging has never affected Ghosts one way or the other. No one knows why. Hell, no one even knows how they get created to begin with. Best anyone has been able to guess is that they're sort of like a browser cookie, a little something left behind to mark the passage of an NI-tech. As far as Sung Pak?" Hob shrugged. "Again, your guess is as good or as worse as mine, there. The other team said they found him near the linkages between this and the ship's emergency computer backup. We don't go in there much. No need to, really, it's pretty much just a big warehouse containing everything needed in case the main computer core fries."

Hob suddenly frowned as though something struck him. "Which... make me wonder. What was he doing down there?"

OLGA frowned, her green eyes squinting with worry as Hob reached forward to tuck a strand of her hair behind an ear. As he did so, she leaned her head towards his hand, and let out a small sigh as he spoke of his duties. Silently she listened to him describe the Ghost and its singular characteristics, and her sense of concern for her dearest friend only deepened.

For an entity created digitally, OLGA was ironically woefully uneducated in the ins and outs of the inner workings of other computers. Her father had built her first and foremost to aid him in his manipulation of genes and their sequencing. It was only since she had been brought onboard the Copernicus that she had had extended interaction with a vast, advanced network of machines.

The Ghost scared her, and Hob’s nonchalant attitude did nothing to dissuade that feeling. Even if he presented a brave, carefree attitude about the whole thing, OLGA could see in his eyes that the Ghost’s existence bothered him too.

“Damn it Hob,” OLGA said. “You make it sound like you’re looking for nothing more than a lost cat in the server room.” Her voice was low, and filled with righteous apprehension. She reached up, and flipped the baseball cap from the top of Hob’s head. “If you have to go look for this…this Ghost, you be careful okay? Damn careful.”

She stood and crossed her arms, causing the neck of her oversized sweatshirt to drape slightly over her right shoulder. For a time she merely looked down to Hob, trying her best to convey that her request was anything but optional. After she felt her point had been made, OLGA cocked her mouth so she could blow yet another loose stand of blond hair from before her eyes.

“Besides,” OLGA said, “you have to help me look through this video data. You don’t have time to play Ghostbuster anyway.”

"I'll be careful, " he replied sincerely as he tried to keep his eyes from shifting to her bare shoulder. It was hard to ignore how perfectly the line of her neck flowed down into that young flesh, a body crafted to have all the grace and suppleness of youth. Hob forced himself to stay on the topic. "Ghosts by themselves aren't dangerous, but I'm starting to think that there's more to them than anyone realized. They're a symptom of something. I just don't know what. So trust me, OLGA, I am not going to rush headlong into things! Besides, I look'd ridiculous wearing a proton-pack. I'm hear to help, just like I promised, just bear in mind that I have do some other work or folks'll get suspicious. Before the end of my shift, I should check on Sung Pak myself, too."

Hob waved his hand at the filing cabinets, trying to dwell on how OLGA's hair had felt no more or less real than Devika's hand. "So... let's keep going and see what we find. Did you find anything odd yet? Missing time or duplicate time stamps, personnel in places they shouldn't be, clowns lurking in the sewer, a butler with an unsavory past and muddy shoes, someone holding up a sign that says 'I am the real killer, ha-ha'?"

OLGA found herself smiling in spite of herself. Hob had that ability, to make her smile, even if it was only to distract her. With a sigh of resignation, OLGA stepped over to where Hob had envisioned her sifting through the contents of the video file cabinet. Withdrawing a stack of files, she turned back to her friend, and dropped a hefty stack of folders into his lap.

"I haven't found anything of interest yet, and I've been through a good chunk of the video data." OLGA said with a forlorn air, as she resumed her own spot upon the floor before the ancient reel-projector. "I've been following this Sylus character around from the time he was awoken at the beginning of Second Shift."

OLGA shrugged, before tucking some hair behind her ears as she focused upon the video screen. The image started to scroll past at incredible speed, and OLGA squinted her green eyes as she looked upon it. "I don't know, maybe it would be easier if you worked backwards from the time Sylus was apprehended we can find something in the middle?"

Hob grimaced at the sight of the paper and photo filled folders that had landed in his lap. He felt like cursing his own imagination; the files even had the weight and feel that he would expect to come out of a bureaucrat's office! "Oh, joy," he muttered, "Paperwork."

His hand hovered over the first folder for a moment, pausing as a sudden thought came to him. The musical had never been one much for murder mysteries; not in literature, not in theatre, and certainly not in film. Yet there was a common theme to be found within the genre regardless of the medium, and that was there was always one cruel piece of evidence missed at the very beginning. Clever authors and directors would throw in any number of false leads and red herrings to divert the observer's attentions away from the the real culprit, all the while smugly congratulating themselves for leaving the primary clue right in front of the readers' eyes from the outright. Hob set the folders on the floor next to his chair as he arose the stalked over to the file cabinet again.

"Actually..." he drawled as he pulled forth a few more folders, "I think I'm going to start backwards from a little later. Just after his execution, actually. I want to see Checkov's gun used so we know to look for it hanging on the wall in the first act."

He wasn't quite sure that OLGA would get his metaphor. Considering the nature of their investigation, he thought the term to be rather appropriate! As he sat down again, he began to rifle through the files and the photos therein; they moved like filp-card animations before his eyes, which flickered back and forth nearly as fast as OLGA's. The scene of the gathered witnesses at the man's execution played backwards for him. "I think I prefer watching this in reverse," Hob snarked darkly. "Then it becomes the wonderful story of a dead man they find the airlock who comes to life, heals a woman, and then revives a couple of people from the dead to then put them back into the safety of stasis." Let out was that should the reversed timeline hold true, the story would also then include how a bunch of people arrived on Earth as an alien population was dying out...

"Part of me is almost thinking that there's more than just one crime here," Hob muttered as the grisly recounting of the execution played out in reverse, "Did he get started on one thing and then start wondering what else he could get away with? How would a partner benefit from all of what happened, hm? There's no evidence that anyone else other than him raped the women, and that sort of thing would be difficult to remove from all of the security videos. Did he start with his own crimes and then someone blackmailed him into doing their for him? Or was he hired on to do the dirty work and just kept on going, secure in the knowledge that he got away with it the first time?"

"Or we could just be paranoid and inventing conspiracy plots to keep ourselves gruesomely entertained," he admitted wryly as Sylus shuffled backwards out of the airlock, "since there's nothing other than our gut feelings that something's out of place in all of this."

OLGA had no clue what Hob meant with the statement about Checkov’s gun, but she smiled sweetly nonetheless. There was an innumerable number of references and idioms from the long history of humanity that she would never understand, or even hear in the first instance. But, the one’s she did come across she appreciated all the same—even if they made no sense to her.

“The more data we cover, the better. So starting from the time of the execution sounds like a good plan to me.” OLGA said, not looking up from her own work. “No matter where we begin, we’re still looking for something that might not exist.”

Hob gave voice to some of her own thoughts as they set to work, and OLGA contemplated his words silently. Sylus’ actions were terrible crimes, especially when framed by the context of humanity’s survival. The almost unnatural ease at which he was able to bypass the various levels of security, and even just the fact that no other human awake during Second Shift had caught him until it was all too late, was all the more disturbing. To OLGA, it seemed that there had to be more there, that a motive, or other hidden wrinkle, had yet to be uncovered. It was like everyone involved—herself included—had read the first and last chapters of the story, but had somehow missed everything else in between.

Even all the video footage she had been over, which was a total of nearly half the duration of Second Shift, from every available camera, had yielded nothing that seemed to deviate from the original plot. It was a frustrating reality, and one that OLGA realized must have been something detectives from all eras of the human litany had experienced—that of a gut feeling that was supported by absolutely no evidence.

She was about to force the thought from her mind, and resume her work, when an idea came to her. Blinking her green eyes with excitement, she stood and rushed around to behind where Hob sat. Taking his shoulders in her hands, she bent beside him with a palpable sense of inquisitiveness.

“Hob, can you look into the footage of Sylus from the time he was taken into custody until the time of his execution?” OLGA smiled, and gave Hob a pinch on his arm. “Or from the time of the execution to when he was taken into custody? Whichever floats your boat.”

“Anyway,” she said, kneeling beside his chair so they could both look at the projector. “I want to see if Sylus had any frequent or unusual visitors while he was awaiting his trial and punishment.”

Pauline nodded to Deli, her smile bright with an honest joy, savoring the memory of the moment she'd finally earned her first job that didn't have a thing to do with bussing tables or "Do you want fries with that?"

"Oh yes, hired," she quipped as the little yellowy lemony sweet rolled over her tongue, letting it sit in her cheek for a moment while she talked. "And yeah, I'd like to believe it's bit of both: Owen is a great guy." She bit her tongue and didn't add the part about him not earning the same estimation from Mowzer. "And I have been working on these equations for a couple months now, for the training programs. Second Shift didn't see much point, but Owen seems to agree they could be helpful planning for certain eventualities - "

Pauline started when she saw Mike Davis framed by the doorway, her pale eyes widening in genuine surprise as she returned his small wave almost instinctively. She swallowed the yellow gummy bear she’d been sucking on, her smile tentative at first with the memory of her graceless exit from the gardens earlier garishly bright at the forefront of her thoughts. Mike had deserved better from her than some flimsy excuse about having to get to the hangar, not feeling well or to go pee or something like that - and all because he recognized her name?

'God knows, I can act such a fool... ' Antoine had shown her that wasn’t really so bad, being recognized - not at all. Not even a little. And frankly, the Copernicus didn’t have enough hidey holes in all its miles and miles of hallways if she bolted every time someone figured out who she was, and why she was awake. The shame wasn't hers after all, and it certainly wasn't little Eva's.

’Besides, the man laughs with his eyes. That’s really... That's really nice… ‘ And that was the thought that lifted her smile from tentative to positively brilliant.

“Mike? I’m fine, thanks - but what are you doing here?” She laughed softly, pushing off the desk she had been leaning against, standing to her feet to wave Sergeant Davis inside. “I almost didn’t recognize you without your 2Pac accompaniment! Sergeant Davis is a pretty amazing dancer Deli,” she said as she did a really terrible imitation of the graceful shuffling step-slide he'd been caught doing this morning in the middle of a temperate forest. “Yeah yeah, I’m gosh awful, but he - ”

Pauline's eyebrows raised in surprise as she turned to Deli, who was... Well, "dumbstruck" was probably a good word. "Awed" was another one. "Amazed" - probably even "stunned" would work, and Pauline just couldn't leave her like that!

"Gummy bears, of course!" Pauline interjected swiftly and easily, "And with what might be the last gummy bears in the universe? Psh, I mean who doesn't bear, right?" She picked out a few more of the yellow gummy bears from the bag, her pale gaze traveling lightly between the two as she held them to Mike in the palm of her hand, a sweet little welcome offering.

"Deli, this is Mike. Mike, Deli - she and I'll be working together here in Hangar Six, and she's also the lady with the bears! Like a few?"

**********

Abby grinned, shaking her head with a warm chuckle. Her head tilted slightly, curious about the soft blush that crept across Gavin's lightly freckled skin, though of course she said mentioned it not at all as the pair made their way through the

"Oh Gavin, all forgiven - but... A visit to the vet? Hmm... " She tapped her chin thoughtfully for a moment as if deep in thought, before double-checking the location of Antoine Eodore's quarters. "Well, I suppose Stella Albright can have you - but only so long as it's just for a quick once-over! I still need you Doctor Brock, and I think I'll be keeping you around for a good while longer. I mean, what kind of fool would put down a perfectly good geneticist, I ask you?"

Abby winked slyly up at Gavin, still grinning as she nodded her head down the hallway in the direction of the cryotech's quarters. This business with Sylas Adams weighed heavy on her shoulders - shoulders already weighed down with a thousand other worries besides, and she'd only been woken from her cryosleep a few days now. These lighter moments with Gavin still had the cast of something precious and stolen, and she honestly could not - would not - stop herself from enjoying them wherever and whenever they might be found.

"A perfectly good geneticist mind you, who still owes me a real date... " she murmured just loud enough to be sure Gavin heard her, as she stopped outside what should be the room of Antoine Eadore. Abby's knuckles rapped against the metal casing of the door swiftly, a touch of the more old-fashioned Earth-bound manners that some of Her people still embraced before pressing the call button outside his room.

"Mr. Eadore? Are you home?" she said into the speaker piece. "This is Abby Larson, from the briefing this morning? I'm here with Dr. Brock - would you have a few minutes to talk with us?"

There was nothing, blessed nothing, for a time.

No dreams, no thought, no cares or anything at all to occupy his mind, just rest. He floated through much-needed unconsciousness with mattress below and cat above. It was like cryo-sleep, actually. Nothing to see, hear, think smell taste or feel. The world, the universe was so far away, his own mind so far away. It was a rest he knew he would enjoy, once he woke up. Once he came too, blinking and yawning, these moments of nothingness would be a blessing to look back on.

Cryo-sleep had been just the same. And like then, Antoine was woken up far too early.

"Ah... ughhh..." He groaned along with the sudden, harsh rapping on his door, the sound clanging through his room with all the grace of a foghorn. Mowzer yapped a response of his own as Antoine twisted and turned, trying to find that one, oh-so-comfortable position he had somehow achieved before waking. He found it once, he could do it again, right? Whoever was bothering to knock on his door could wait. If it was truly important, they'd use the- "-Uragh!"

Sweet merciful daggers right to the ears, they used the call butto-

"YES!"

He was stumbling out of bed the moment his tired brain managed to connect name with position. Groaning to himself as he tried to make it across the room safely, blurred eyes made a hasty check of his current state. Slacks and button-down rumpled and fur-covered, shoes unaccounted for, belt unaccounted for, nothing tucked in to anything, a 'right mess' to be sure. Nothing that should be a concern for a civilian who was just woken up while off-duty, but old training liked to stick around. Wonderings on the punishments that might have been doled out had he appeared like this in training helped wake him up just a bit more, accompanied by yet a third, drawn-out groan.

A water bottle and pair of pills were set out by the door, and a grateful Antoine snatched them up without delay. Pills in the mouth, splash of water in the face, gulp of water down the throat, and the world began to improve. He wiped what water he could from his face with a hand while the other reached to swing open the door, and then he was ready.

"First Sergeant, Ma'am." Antoine stood tall and straight, meeting Ms. Larson's eyes with his own steady gaze as he stepped out into the doorway. Any leftover hint of sleepiness was shoved ruthlessly away where it couldn't make a scene, the cryo-tech presenting an alert -if sloppy- figure at attention.

"...And... Dr. Brock?" After a moment, he allowed himself to shift his gaze, noting quickly the man at Ms. Larson's side. He wasn't sure what the First Sergeant wanted with him... but the Geneticist as well? Antoine offered the man a quick nod before turning back to Ms. Larson. "Yes, I'm free for a while, actually. What did you want to talk about?"

"Yes, b'y," Jack replied a little inanely, "this here's the place! Your place, dat is. Where you sleep an' such."

The Newfoundland actually cleared his throat in a slightly nervous gesture, the first real sigh of embarrassment or shyness he'd displayed since before even meeting Penny. Giving her hands a squeeze, he leaned in for another light kiss upon her lips before straightening again. His grin was lopsided but honest as he looked at her. "Time of my life, Penny. Guaranteed, oh yes! Hearing you talk an' seen' your face an' holding' your hand, it's been... Well..."

His smirk became a full fledged smile, and Jack suddenly laughed out loud at himself. "Look here at me, trying to find words what I ain't got! Some stunned, I am! By now you're t'inkin' I'm an angishore of a lubber, no doubt, standing' here with me gob hangin' open! Late as it is, me having to get up early to me work, an' still runnin' off at the mouth!" Shaking his head, he looked at her ruefully. "So t'marrow, den? I'll be by after your shift and mine, an' we'll take another stroll about, eh? For the now, I just wants to say it's been a date like no other an' dat your some company, you is, Penny."

Having said his peace, Jack still stood there. The grin on his face was goofy in infatuation, and he couldn't quite find the wherewithal to let go of her hands while fearing all the while his palms might be sweating on her. For several more moments he could only look upon her as his own special sort of goddess before chuckling again and shaking his head at his own silliness. When Jack finally did let go of Penny's hands and began to retreat down the hallway, it was not without a number of glances back over his shoulder as though to reassure himself that she was still there. Even after he had turned the corner and the red haired baker was out of sight, the man was tempted to turn back around that corner to see if she might still be there. He refrained, however, not wanting to seem too desperate to her. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the last of the cookies she had made for him. All the way back to his own quarters, he chewed slowly and thoughtfully.

There were those who thought the end of the world was the end of life, he pondered. More fools they!