[IC] The Last Kings of Orion

[idlehands]

collab between Igraine and idlehands

Pauline waited several long moments for the ginger to do its work completely. The chilly sweat on her face finally began to dissipate, and she trusted her stomach wouldn’t flop completely if she dared get to her feet. Oh sure, the young woman was a touch embarrassed, no matter the sisters Ester and Naomi, each in their own way, reassured her there was precious little reason to feel so. Naomi’s shining, eternal cheer was like the warm sun on her face, and Ester’s practical, straightforward manner the solid ground beneath her feet. Pauline had rarely felt more safe or comfortable these past few months, than she did right now between these two women.

“So sorry about that,” Pauline said softly, swiping gently at her cheeks and forehead with the back of her sweater sleeve, brushing away the sheen of sweat and rubbing a bit more color into her lightly-freckled cheeks. She glanced up to Naomi with a small but genuine grin, holding her hand up for her friend to take and help her up off the bench. “Go on, tell me again please, that the morning sickness passes, that it can’t last forever!” she laughed.

“Please Naomi, give me hope for a brighter future!” Pauline laughed harder still, clasping the other woman’s hand lightly as she hauled herself to her feet. Running her fingers through the lengths of her strawberry blonde hair, she sighed contentedly, convinced her legs were going to hold her upright this time.

Naomi laughed, her white teeth flashing, “No it does not last forever, I think perhaps after the first trimester? It’s worth it though.”

She patted her belly and did not speak about the other discomforts of pregnancy that were inconvenient but mattered little in the outcome. Ester walked in silence, as was her habit, listening with one ear to their talk and keeping an eye on the gardens around them. The previous shifts had done a tremendous job in creating the biodomes as close as they could to what existed in nature. Each garden represented a climate zone and they were exiting the Mediterranean garden, a small but very important ecological zone back on Earth. Ester held the door open that separated the gardens. There was a walk way of concrete that allowed wheelbarrows and hoses to be run up and down between them the large rooms.

Ester felt strange looking up at the ship’s roof as they entered the next garden, it was a reminder that despite the computer image of the blue sky with soft clouds moving in the breeze caused by hidden fans, this was not outdoors, they were still breathing the recycled air, albeit with the addition of fresh oxygen from the plants. The sun that moved slowly overhead was just another generated image and she felt a heaviness in her heart as a moment of home sickness swept over her.

The other women chattered about the lush temperate forest they entered, with a mixture of deciduous fruit and nut trees and conifers. Along the trail were rambles of blackberry vines and raspberry bushes, near a pond cranberry and blueberries were ripening. Ester felt a smile tug at her lips looking at the bounty the ship’s gardens provided and tilted her head when she heard a familiar hum pass by her ear. A single honeybee going about it’s business and it caused her to wonder if there were beehives kept in the temperate zone. It made sense, the flowers that bloomed along the paths were the ones favored by the valuable insect. She would inquire later and she turned back when Naomi mentioned her name.

“Ester, these gardens are an oasis and lovely to behold,” she glanced at Pauline, “But they’re not the only place we get our food from.”

“No,” Ester agreed and looked at her tablet, “The labs are this way actually, I’ll probably spend most of my time there.”

She looked longingly at a path that lead up into a grove of mixed ash and oak trees. They were of little or no food value but their wood was useful and if the planet they were going to lacked anything that could be used as building material, the cedars, oaks, and ashes would play their role. Though the fast growing bamboo in the first garden hinted at what they would probably use early on as the trees matured.

Pauline had not yet seen “the labs” - they were not a part of Naomi’s bailiwick after all, and not as free to access by the Copernicus’ population as the environs of the biodomes were. Despite her curiosity, the perceptive young woman still caught the elder sister’s wistful gaze back toward the grove, and chewed her lip thoughtfully for a moment.

“Oh I’d love to see your labs Ester, but this is your day off isn’t it? You don’t have to go to work quite yet, do you?” she teased with a playful smile.

Ester looked away from the trees and glanced at her tablet, “It is a day off, though I should acquaint myself with the lab. I’m sure they left me plenty of notes to read and I must meet with my staff.”

She looked back up and caught the smiles from Pauline and Naomi and she blushed slightly, “I guess it can wait a few more minutes.”

Naomi caught her sleeve and tugged her up the path. The computer generated sky was full of cumulus clouds billowing in a sapphire sky. The fans blew off and on, in patterned intervals to not only entertain the visitors with a ‘fresh breeze’ but to simulate a real world situation for the plants. Pheromones, pollen and seed fluff all relied on the wind to carry them and the crew of the Copernicus’ botanical section tried not to overlook anything when building the gardens.

Ester walked down the path that lead through the ‘grove’ and admired the trees. They were larger than three year old saplings and were dug up from the last remaining healthy forests around the Mountain. The other plants had been part of botanical gardens in Denver and Salt Lake City, brought back when things looked dire in those cities.

“I miss the sound of birds,” Ester said finally, her hand on the silvery white bark of a young birch.

Pauline ducked just a little, catching sight of something small and roundish buzzing past her head. Though intellectually she knew very well that unless you slapped or antagonized a honey bee, you weren’t likely to be stung - but that didn’t stop the instinctual cringe when one came so close, right there in her line of sight -

She laughed, pale blue eyes widening in genuine surprise at the sight of iridescent green and blues whizzing by, to hover near a tall clump of tiger lilies on the side of the trail, closest to Ester. Pauline pointed toward the brilliant, hovering creature with a wide, playful grin, as if any of them could have missed its arrival.

“Ester look! I didn’t know you were a ‘bird whisperer!’ You’ve only to speak the words, and conjure up an avian or two!” Pauline did not stop to think whether the reference might mean a thing to Ester or not. Still, the delight on her face at the sight was unmistakable, and she might be forgiven her forgetfulness of the very literal mind of her new friend. “Though I have to admit, I have absolutely no idea if hummingbirds sing - or do you think the whirring of little tiny wings still counts?”

And as if it knew it had suddenly become the topic of mirth-filled conversation, the perfect, tiny little bird flitted upward once more, turning in midair to hover on blurred wings for a moment before the three women. The hummingbird regarded them for a moment, as if it were deciding which of them might yet provide the sweetest of nectar before disappearing back into the grand, artificial grove.

Ester caught sight of the blur of motion, the tiny bird zipping by them to investigate the lilies. A blue throated hummingbird, native to the western United States, she observed. He must have been packed along for the ride.

“I didn’t whisper anything?” Ester looked puzzled at the expression but smiled gently at the bird. “And no, they do not sing but they are beautiful. Gems on the wing and they’re helpful for pollinating flowers, of course .”

She watched as the little bird made his exit, the light glinting off the azure and emerald of his tiny head. Ester longed to look at it up close, to see the tiny scalloped feathers and bright black eyes looking back at her. Perhaps one day when she was alone and she would sit very still he might grace her with his presence.

Naomi watched with amusement at her sister’s face, “She’s always had an eye for the small things. Always looking down at the grass and flowers rather than watching where she was going.”

She put her arm around her and squeezed, “Time to look up at the stars, ac’hot.”

Ester glanced away sheepishly, remembering the teasing she would get about walking around with her head down. When she was a child, she had been short sighted and looking closely had become second nature until her parents noticed and got her glasses. She remembered the first thing that struck her was the leaves on the trees, she could see each one flutter in the breeze. That memory was vivid and she had fallen in love with plants, at their tiny details and perfections. By the time she was an adult, she had corrective surgery but she still looked closely at things, it was already ingrained in her nature.

Naomi released her and gestured to Pauline, “Does this garden remind you of where you are from?”

Pauline nodded her head slowly, her eyes gazing upward and about wistfully to the forest canopy and the bright blue “sky” overhead. “It does, some. But I don’t believe there was really any way to recreate the mountain environment inside a spaceship, no matter how vast these biodomes are.”

The young woman shrugged just a little, and smiled. “I’m not complaining though!” she continued on, that unending optimism not allowing her to leave the impression with the sisters, that she was not as entranced with these gardens as they. “Blackberries, raspberries, ash and spruce - and hummingbirds!”

Pauline’s eyes twinkled merrily as her quick thoughts roamed the last minute of conversation, and realized that… Why, had Ester just made a metaphor? Almost she burst into laughter, not at Ester in the least, but simply with the delight of recognition, of the lovely, unexplored depths of her dear friend’s elder sister.

She somehow doubted though, that Ester would see the same loveliness as she in her beautiful little turn of phrase, and might even think Pauline was poking fun at her. And so she simply filed away the gem of a moment among her more delightful memories, and continued on with the catalogue of her Earthly recollections from her once-home. “And wolves too, and eagles and rams and bear. Deer too - so many deer!”

“No mountains,” she sighed, thinking out loud. “I wonder if this new Canaan has mountains as the old one did.”

Ester glanced up at Pauline’s comment and smiled a little that she had picked that out but was perplexed at her reaction. At her mention of the animals she thought about the nervous woman she had seen at the briefing. “I think the animals are kept rather close by. The veterinarian, Dr. Albright’s office was not far from the botany labs according to the map.”

[idlehands]

Henry looked up sharply as Josey’s tablet started to beep a notification. He swallowed hard when the man reached for it but both their attention was diverted when a bright eyed cute redhead entered the kitchen. Henry’s eyes widened slightly and he cast his eyes to the floor. She was curvy in all the right places with an adorable face and fine pale skin. She looked so soft and warm and he wondered what she smelled like.

Josey grinned, “A pretty lady is never late, she’s always welcomed and right on time. Come on in, Miss Penny. Come on in. I’m Josey, I’m the head chef. This boy here who seems so interested in the floor is Henry. We got a line cook coming up from somewhere so you gotta be our baker.”

He took her hand gently and bowed his head over it like a knight in a shining apron. “You got a baker’s hands, I can tell, Cupcake.”

He let her go and gave a deep chuckle of amusement, “Correct me if I’m wrong but I rarely am.”

Henry shoved his hands in his jean pockets and tried to smile what he hoped was a winning smile at her. She offered her hand to him and he took it, gripping it lightly and tried to ignore the sensation of her smooth skin against his palm.

“Nice to meet you, Penny,” he said, glancing at her from under the short fall of dark hair.

The beeping of Josey’s tablet finally caught his attention again and he fished it out, tapping it to receive the message. He read it, his dark eyes growing narrow and he looked up at Henry and Penny standing together. He took a deep breath, his big hands tightening on the thin computer as he composed himself.

“Henry,” he said, trying to keep his voice even so not to alarm either of them. “Can you come with me son, I gotta talk to you real quick. We’ll be right back, Cream Puff, just go on and settle yourself in. Anything in this kitchen is at your disposal. ‘secpt my knives, those are off limits to everyone. Don’t mess with a chef’s knives.”

He put his heavy arm around Henry’s thin shoulders and pulled him into the freezer where they would not be overheard. Henry shivered, not only from the sudden freezing temperatures but from the ominous look in Josey’s eyes and he knew what was coming.

“Care to tell me why you kept quiet about this?” he held up the tablet for Henry to see his file on the screen.

The young man winced and looked away from his mugshot and the brief description of his conviction. Josey stared at him, waiting for an answer but as the seconds ticked by he grew impatient.

“You knew after that briefing I’d find out about this. You should have come clean right away. I don’t like this kinda bullshit taking me by surprise.”

Henry folded his arms defensively and to conserve body heat, “I don’t like talking about it.”

Josey barked a laugh out, it echoed in the freezer, “I bet you don’t boy. Not a pretty thing is it, nothing glamorous about being a rapist.”

The thin youth tucked his head in at the word, the sound of it ringing in his ears. “I...”

“‘I’ what? You gonna tell me you’re innocent, that it was all a misunderstanding?” Josey asked, tapping the screen. “Convicted for second degree rape, third degree sexual assault of a minor...goddamn. You was on parole when they scooped you up. I guess there wasn’t a chance to be choosy about criminal background checks when the world was ending.”

Henry shivered again and looked down at his feet, “It’s true...there was this girl, I didn’t know she was only fifteen. I was nineteen and at the time I was dealing. Weed, meth, pills, whatever I could get to sell. She knows this and wants to hang out...always hoping to get some free weed.”

He paused and shrugged, dropping his arms helplessly, “She was really cute and I thought she liked me. Not a lot of girls paid attention to me. I didn’t want to stop...she cried. She ended up telling her mom.”

Henry paused and rubbed his face, sighing deeply, “If I hadn’t been stoned I wouldn’t have done it, I swear. I got clean in prison, Josey. I found ways to keep from wanting to use, to forget all the shitty things that happened to me as a kid. I was going to these sessions you know? Before the Change hit...but it helped me. I’m not that same person.”

He looked up earnestly, hoping he would believe him. The therapy had helped and he found out how to meditate and how to resolve things without giving into rage. All the anger and shame from his past that drove him to seek solace in drugs was now controlled with what his psychiatrist had taught him and the medication. Of course, now he did not have it, but he was aware of his issues. Impulse control disorder, ADHD, control issues...things that were not his fault and made him act the way he did. He knew about it now and it helped.

Josey sighed and put away the tablet, looking at the skinny kid and then he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “First we got that freak from second shift killing people in their sleep and now I got you. And Miss Penny...I see you look sideways at her I will personally see that you put on the shittiest janitor detail this ship has. You got me? And if I hear about you grabbing any girl aboard this ship I’ll serve you up with onions.”

“Yes, sir,” Henry said quietly.

He looked up at Josey, “Are you going to tell her?”

“What? Tell Penny she’s gotta work with a rapist? Nah...you gonna tell her that. If she wants you out, then you’re gonna get gone.”

Henry’s face fell and he nodded, it was hard but fair. They exited the freezer and he felt the flush of warmth from the kitchen and from the sight of Penny. It was useless for him to feel anything for her, she would be repulsed by him anyway. He pushed aside the thoughts and stood in front of her, Josey just behind him.

“Penny...I have to tell you something,” he started out, staring at her chest for a moment to avoid her eyes and realized where he was looking. His head snapped up so he could look her in the face and he took a deep breath. “I’m a sex offender. I was convicted of second degree rape. I served my time and I have been in therapy and am considered a person with a low chance of recidivism. I was granted parole earl-”

Josey cleared his throat, “Enough. All she needs to know is what you did. Miss Penny, it’s up to you. If you feel uncomfortable, I’ll kick his skinny ass down to janitorial duty.”

Henry shoved his hands in his pockets, the fierce shame at having to admit his past flushed his face red and he could not meet her gaze.

Before she could answer, the sound of someone approaching turned their heads. Henry blinked at the man’s words, it sounded like English but he would be hard pressed to understand just what he was talking about. He noted the man’s janitorial uniform and he glanced at Josey. Maybe telling Penny was just a punishment before he sent him to scrub toilets.

Josey cocked his head and frowned at the man’s speech, “Hold up now, what ‘old sluts’ are you talking about, Mr. Pumphrey? Watch your mouth around Miss Penny here, she’s a good girl and I won’t have your foul talk in my kitchen!”

The tension was relieved slightly at the man’s sudden appearance. Henry felt the spotlight shift off of him and Penny certainly was not on the spot to make her decision. He stepped back, letting Josey deal with the man with the funny accent.

[Lillian Thorne]

Oh they were just wonderful, Penny thought as her hand was taken gallantly by the older gentleman. Her shy smile bloomed to a grin when the big man who introduced himself as Josey called her Cupcake and guessed her occupation. She loved pet names! Food ones were the best. And then the thin, shy boy, Henry, was shaking her hand and looking up at her from under hair that fell over his eyes in a manner that Penny had always found so appealing. She melted a little at the sight. Henry looked like a little lost thing and her impulse to feed him until he was stuffed grew exponentially.

“Nice to meet you both.” She said to them. “And no, Mr. Josey, you are not wrong. I am a baker but I’ve run lines too so you can count on me for help with that should you need it.”

Josey’s tablet beeped again and pulled his attention from the moment and Penny took the opportunity to sweep her eyes around the place, which was really just a cover for her to sneak in glances at Henry who was back to staring at the ground and looking lost. She wanted to rumple his hair and feed him so desperately. She wondered what kind of cookies were his favorite. Chocolate chip, she thought, who didn’t like chocolate chip?

But then Josie was excusing them since he had to talk to Henry. She just nodded at the two men and began actually doing what she’d been pretending to do, looking around the kitchen, trying to figure where everything lay. It wasn’t so different from some of the early places she’d worked, cafeterias and large scale places. Certainly not as specified as her last few gigs which had been straight up artesian bakeries. She’d really been able to stretch her skills there but had almost missed the simpler work of a less rarified establishment. But this was a spaceship, she reminded herself. For all that people seemed to be so wonderful and normal it was hard to escape the grim reality of their mission: survival of the species. Well a species needed food and she aimed to make it more than just sustenance.

She hadn’t moved when the men returned, just turned in place, her hazel eyes sparkling as they sought out familiar equipment. She turned toward the two men, a faint vanilla spiked scent reminiscent of sugar cookies filled the air between them, answering Henry’s earlier pondered question. She’d just located a rather large and shiny looking stand mixer that filled her with familiar comfort. Her smile focused on the younger man who stood before her. Her expression was sweet and expectant as she waited for him to speak since he clearly had something to say. Chocolate chip cookies, she was certain of it. With milk, cold milk.

Her smile didn’t last, it tried, oh how it tried. As he spoke, her already pale skin took on a new pallor which was something like curdled milk. Her smile stayed in place valiantly but in the end it faltered as her forehead puckered in confusion and worry. Why was he telling her this?, was her absent thought. Her eyes looking past Henry to see Josey’s grim expression. She shook her head as if denying something but confusion was the primary emotion written on her sweet face.

She didn’t like that the decision was on her, especially not with Henry standing right there before her looking like a puppy kicked to many times. But was he a puppy? He’d raped someone, he’d just said as much. But he’d been let out and…

She shook her head again. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t want to make any such decision, she didn’t want to kick anyone, she just wanted to make bread and cookies and not be put on the spot.

“No…” she said. Then “Um, I mean…”

She was wringing her soft, baker’s hand before her.

“I don’t even know where the flour is.” She whispered to the floor that had been of such interest to Henry just a moment before.

But then they were joined by another and his voice with its strange accent and open entreaty pulled her eyes up from the floor to fix on his open, honest face. She liked his smile but she hadn’t the faintest idea what he’d said for all that his voice had rolled over her like warm caramel. She’d been too lost in worry and discomfort to even have attempted to follow along but Josey had certainly followed enough to have picked out some words and she felt her cheeks pink up at the words repeated back. But there was nothing in the new man’s face to indicate and insult. She felt off-kilter enough with Henry’s confession to be happy not to add insults sent her way to the list. Benefit of the doubt seemed the best course of action for everything.

She would not be put on the spot and so with sweet side-stepping and a desperate need for distraction she offered her hand to Mr. Pumphrey, her smile sweet for all that her eyes looked sad and worried. She hoped he didn’t notice that her hand was shaking.

“Hello Mr. Pumphrey, I’m Penny, Penny Raffin and I have no idea what you just said but I want you to say it again.”

[Justric]

Jack was taken aback by the vehemence in the big chef's voice. The custodian had no idea what he might have said that was so wrong or offensive to anyone, much less the foxy head in the room! He ended up blinking several times as he tried to think of exactly what to say. Thankfully he was saved as said young woman almost seemed to rush forward to greet him. At this, Jack could only smile in gratitude down at her. He couldn't help but smile, actually. She was a sweet, plump little thing with pleasant face, and there was something about her being in the kitchen that just looked all to proper to Jack. He had always thought there was something to how a person looked as to what they should be doing in life, and while he admitted it was a flawed theory, this girl looked as though she knew her way around a kitchen! It actually made him... slightly homesick for The Rock. Jack pondered if there might be anyway in the future he might be able to sneak down to the kitchens more often to strike up more of a chat with her.

"Yes, b'y, duck!" he agreed amenably, "And isn't dat just the proper way to say hello to a new face, I must say. A right stick of gum, too! Never mind wit dat 'mister' stuff, m'love, I'm not dat formal a man. Pumphrey is fine enough wit out any honors in front of it, Jack is all the better from a friend's gob, isn't it just? So I'll be Jack to you if you'd be so kind here as to be Penny to me. " Jack took the offered hand and shook it in a warm, dry, but calloused grip, the smile on his lips reaching up to his hazel green eyes as looked directly into hers. There was nothing but open honesty in both the handshake and the gaze. He wasn't so why the larger of the men had so dour a look on his face, nor why the younger man looked as if he'd just been kicked, but Jack was thankful enough at the woman's greeting that he paid them no mind. Releasing her hand but keeping his gaze on her, he reiterated what he had said in that same bizarre lilting accent that came rapid fire from out of his mouth.

"Now as I were sayin, I were wondering if you had an old slut about you'd no use fer? Wide bottom, narrow at da top, so tall?" Jack's hands made a vague pattern in the air. "It'd have to be fairly large for what I'm having in mind, y'see, which is a bit of screech to help keep us all from gettin' shinnicked. And ain't this ship's air just sumptin' at times, cold enough to skin ya!" He grinned wider as a thought came to him and chuckled. "'Course, in here wit da stoves it probably poisons ya outright so you may not have much of a t'ought to it! Still, if I can get a brew of it, we can have a proper screechin' in! Which is why I was wonderin' if there was any lassy about I might lay my hands on. Hard to make screech without lassy!" Ending his humorous ramble with a friendly wink at Penny, he waited for a reply.

There was a long moment of silence as waited for that reply, and in that moment it dawned on the Newfie that these were people from the States. Like his family's neighbors, they probably had their own words for things and did't know the proper way of saying what any given object was. Looking from face to face, he could see the confusion plainly on everyone's features. With a slight cough, Jack settled his gaze back on Penny's as hers at least was the prettiest and friendliest of the confused expressions to look at.

"A slut," he repeated a little slower as though trying to jog her memory, confident that she knew what he was talking about but had just forgotten. "Like for brewing tea, b'y? And lassy. Molasses for making Lassy Mogs and the like? I'm needing a few udder tings, like pipes an' tubing, sure, but t'tought I would try my luck here first, you see. It's damn shame there's little enough of a drop to be had on the ship, so I were hopin' wit da help of a few new coves that were of a like mind I might just make da most of that shame and do a small batch of black rum... if I can get da parts we're sore lackin' anyways!"

Jack's grin turned sheepish as he continued to focus on Penny. "I just didn't want to cause a fuss about it, is all! Sure, b'y, and da officers about are fine men and women, but dey may not take too kindly to it so I were hoping to keep this here under da boards. So if the answers a no, then I'll understand well enough and be on me way and not a anudder ting' said, eh?"

[Derren Krenshaw]

"It does."

Antoine agreed readily to Ms. Albright's question -rhetorical or not- noting the sudden shyness that seemed to take her. He rose slowly, watching her continue to lavish attention upon the eager Mowzer and nodding along with her words.

Not that she really seemed to be concerned if he was paying attention or not. Maybe that was thanks to his own charming personality, that of course he would hang upon her every lovely word. The only other explanation, really, was that Mowzer held her so in thrall that anything outside of scritching him was simply noise. Either option was just as likely as the other, of course, despite how Ms. Albright seemed completely unable to tear her eyes away from the cat by her side... or despite the unnervingly intelligent glances his pet kept tossing his way.

Okay, maybe the two options weren't so evenly weighed upon the scales.

"A pleasure to meet you as well, Ms. Albright." She did turn her attention towards him after a while, at least, Mowzer seeming to take this as his queue to move on for now. With nothing so much as a second glance back at the two humans, the cat strode away and out of the auditorium. Of course, now that Ms. Albright had been marked as a human more than willing to fawn over him, Mowzer was unlikely to stay away for too long.

Which worked just as well for Antoine as he traded grips with the young veterinarian.

"I imagine he could be convinced to stop by before too long." He grinned along with the words, imagining finally being able to 'trick' Mowzer into a thorough examination. "And I may have to take up your offer on the antiseptic, too. He seems to take quite some pride in his claws..."

~-~-~-~

Well, that was a nice change of pace from the recent days.

Satisfied for the first time in what seemed like ages, Mowzer left the wonderful human with his own for now. He thought he could smell other animals on her as she pet him, the subtle lingering scents that reminded him of his favorite grounds. So the wonderful human spent time with other animals, then? No wonder she knew just how to attend him... though he might have to make sure she didn't forget him for some... other.

But that would come later. Right now Mowzer was feeling quite well-scritched again, like the days when his Human actually knew who to pay attention to. It was time for another walk, then, maybe take a nap in one of those nice, pod-like things inside the huge room.

He had no need to read the directions printed far too high up to help the humans along, remembering easily how to get where he needed to. There was quite a bit of noise coming from the large room, noises from humans and other ones he didn't quite recognize. Of course, now that humans were moving around everywhere, they'd be causing all sorts of problems, wouldn't they?

Well, as long as they left his favorite pod-thing alone, there'd be no problem at all. In this large, wonderful new home, danger seemed to have gone away forever, noise meaning safety and scritches rather than something to be concerned over.

A good thing, certainly, and so Mowzer strut his way into the hangar that was his current favorite nap-room. His favorite 'pod-thing' was a mining vessel thankfully set further down the line, away from most of the humans. Another excellent fortune on top of an increasingly good day, Mowzer giving an extra little twitch of his upraised tail in pleasure as he made his way down the walkways, nothing more than sleep upon his mind.

[RoadRash]

Bill Cothran stood silently in the equipment room just off of Hangar 6, where the non-integrated portions of the drilling and mining gear were stored. His blue eyes were aflame as they played over what was now his responsibility, taking in the dirt, grime, and general filth caked and smeared on the complicated hunks of machinery scattered haphazardly around the room. It was clear that the mining team for second shift had stopped caring months before their shift ended; the equipment was a wreck, and clearly hadn’t been cared for nearly as well as it should have been.

“Lazy sons’a’bitches…”

His words became a snarl, and his massive hands flexed dangerously for a moment as his iconic temper flared like gas on a bonfire. Growling in his throat, the burly miner stuck one coal-shovel paw under a nearby cart piled high with filthy tools and parts and upended it with a grunt, scattering the offending objects with a shocking clatter of metal on metal. He stood for a moment longer, reigning in his wrath, then stalked over to a worktable holding another pile of grease-caked drill parts.

Can’t clean up after themselves...Can’t even make sure shit’s in workin’ order for the next crew…. Bill was a hardass where work was concerned. He always had been. His father had taught him that your tools were analogous to your life; if a man couldn’t keep his gear in order, how could he expect to keep his life in order? The state of a man’s equipment could tell you the state of his finances, the state of his house, and the state of his personal life. Bill always kept his in top shape, and he expected the same from those he worked with.

Seizing a detached drill-bit about the size of a basketball, Bill hauled it up onto his shoulder with a growling grunt and stalked from the room, the 100+ lb chunk of steel settling its uncomfortable (but by no means unbearable) weight onto the meat of his shoulder, secured in place by the iron-like grip of his right arm.

“Reece!” he roared, storming towards the good ship Loretta, his long strides eating the distance with surprising speed for a man of his age.

“Shit-birds! Shit-birds, every one of ‘em! They didn’ clean a fuckin’ thing, half the damn gear has busted up hydraulic lines, there’s hydro-fluid every-fuckin’-where, and…”

He paused, eyes locking on Delilah, and pointed at her with the sausage-like index finger of his left hand.

“Who the fuck are you? We don’t want any ThinMints. We got shit to do, girl.”

[AmongHeroes]

OLGA moved to sit with crossed legs upon the wooden floor as Hob retrieved a beer from the fridge. She rolled her eyes good-naturedly at his comment about her “father” knowing if she had the beverage at her disposal.

“No upgrades, Hob,” she said, answering his next comment. “Just a few modifications to some of my appearance subroutines. Thanks for noticing though.” She smiled, tilting her head slightly. “You’re not looking bad yourself, especially after being a nice icicle for so long. Grape flavored, I’m assuming? Cherry maybe?”

The avatar bounced her thighs against the floor, her hands resting upon her crossed ankles in a somewhat impatient manner. OLGA watched Hob enjoy the beer, and watched him relax into the digital world that she had created. It brought pleasure to her to see a human feel comfortable within her constructs, and since only the NI-Techs could interface with her in this manner, of all the humans, Hob received the bulk of her efforts.

That notion sent a slight tinge of sadness surging through her circuitry. Since only the NI-Techs possessed the proper modifications to link into the strange realm of the computer, no one else would be able to share her world. Her creator included. Gavin understood her ability on some level, but OLGA knew that it was like describing music to a person that had been deaf their entire life. She longed for that connection with her father, but it would most likely never come to fruition. Even her newer friends, like Abby’s son Michael, could only see her through the digital displays of the Copernicus, and so she would never wholly be able to interact with them. It was like having a pen pal that lived only feet away, but was encased behind an impenetrable wall.

She brought her attention back to Hob, as her mind was beginning to stray into any number of thoughts, writhing like the many heads of a hydra. Normally, she would have loved to spend a few cycles wiling away the time in some now forsaken locale with Hob, but there had been much happening aboard the Copernicus, and OLGA’s curiosity regained her full focus.

“Well, I’d like to stay here for now, Hob. I know what happened during Second Shift, and of course, since I don’t have access to the rest of the ship’s network, I know next to nothing…” OLGA bit her lip, appearing somewhat anxious about her next line of questioning.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but I know for sure that Gavin would say no.” OLGA’s large green eyes dropped to the floor, hidden for a moment behind long lashes. “Hob, can you grant me access to the network?” She looked back up to the man, her gaze imploring. “Please, before you say no, I know I can help find out exactly what happened, and hopefully help prevent anything like that from happening in the future. Please, Hob? I swear, it will only take me a few cycles, and then you can close the window, I…”

OLGA realized she was rambling, and hadn’t even given Hob a chance to answer. She closed her mouth, the corners of which teased upward in a nervous smile. Her eyes met his as she waited for him to speak.

[AmongHeroes]

Gavin smiled automatically as Abby reached to pluck his reading glasses from his shirt pocket. It was a simple gesture, but one that spoke of familiarity and friendship. He relished the fleeting moment, and washed it down with a drink from his coffee cup. His warm feeling didn’t last overly long however, as Abby continued with her explanation of the murders and the details of the subsequent investigation.

As Abby spoke, Gavin merely listened with an ever deepening furrow to his brow. He would add the occasional “hmm” as the MP delved into the fact about General Lahnan’s daughter being the last victim, and the further news that the girl had become pregnant, and had decided to keep the child. That eventuality had not even occurred to Gavin, and once more he cursed the undying cruelty that man could perpetrate against itself. He had never had any children, but he could imagine how shell-shocked that General Lahnan must’ve been when he had heard the news.

When Abby had finished with her question, Gavin leaned forward to rest his elbows upon his knees. His hand found his forehead, and his fingers kneaded at the wrinkles thought was forcing upon his face.

“Thank you, Abby,” Gavin said first, “for the access to the files, I mean. I must say that there is much more to this than I even…I mean the General’s daughter? God.”

He trailed off for a moment, lost in thought. Reaching without looking, Gavin clutched several times for his coffee before finally grasping at the handle. He brought it to his lips, and drank in a gulp much larger than he had intended.

“Damn,” he sputtered, placing his free hand over his mouth as he coughed at the scalding liquid. “Sorry,” he choked, “sorry about that.” His face twisted into an expression of embarrassment. “Bloody hell, I can’t hold my own drink, eh? Worthless…”

Clearing his throat at last with a final “harrumph,” Gavin returned to Abby’s question. “As to your thoughts about the how of the matter, with the safeties on the cryobeds and all, you raise an excellent point. I am not a cryo-tech, but of what I do understand, it would be next to impossible for a tech to be able to kill with medication.”

His eyes found Abby’s, and he squinted with conviction. “The beds are specifically safeguarded against manual or accidental overdoses. Hell, the whole system was designed so it would be a cruel miracle for a single person to be alter the chemical delivery enough to cause damage. Beyond killing someone in the beds with blunt force trauma, no one, including a cryotech, should’ve been able to kill with such ease. We should ask after the tech on shift. What’s his name?” Gavin said, snapping his fingers, “Ah yes, Mr. Eadoré. He should be able to lend more insight into the matter.”

Gavin paused to scratch idly at his goatee, the thought lines deepening once more. “Abby, you don’t think…” His voice trailed off as he shook his head. Gavin flexed his jaw, willing his mind to think up another explanation. When he could not shake the notion, he returned his eyes to hers.

“Abby, I know this case is pretty much closed, but could Second Shift have missed something? I mean to say, something as big as an accomplice?”

[Lillian Thorne]

Stella’s eyes dipped to the Med-tech’s chest when he spoke of the antiseptic. She nodded, he’d borne it well but Mowzer was a fine specimen, fit and healthy and his claws were not to be dismissed.

“Well then, you’d best come along and I’ll see what we have on hand. I haven’t been to see my office since right after I was brought on board and before I was put into stasis. I have only faint memories of what I’ll find there.”

She took a step towards where she thought her office might be and realized she wasn’t entirely certain which way to go. She bit her lip pensively and tried to ignore the feeling of rising panic filling her. Her eyes sought out the map high up on the wall, well above Mowzer’s notice. As per usual she’d forgotten her tablet. Tracing the map with her eyes she picked out a route that she thought would work. She looked back at her companion again and thought she saw something in his expression that put her a tiny bit on guard.

She’d done it again, hadn’t she? Her expression turned somewhat sheepish and she turned back towards him with head bowed looking almost like a recalcitrant child down to the foot that scuffed the smooth surface of the hallway.

“I must apologize Mr. Eadoré, I think I just used you.”

She made herself look him in the eyes despite the discomfort and misery in her own.

“I am not so good with people, as you may be observing at just this moment. It’s a result of lack of practice rather than lack of inclination and sometimes I get a little lost along the way. I am good with animals, they are easy and seeing Mowzer…” she twisted her fingers, looked down at them and then visibly forced herself to look back up at him.
“Well you saw how I get. On top of that I’m admittedly a bit of a Luddite and all this,” she swept her hand around at the halls broken by doors and panels of softly glowing light and their accompanying screens. “All this has me on edge. I can’t seem to get past what we all lost and so I retreat. Into fur apparently.”

Her life was a series of losses followed by retreats. She watched her parents die and retreated into herself for years. Her grandparents died and she did so again, diving into academics, moving from school to school, program to program telling herself she was seeking the best education but really fleeing from attachment and roots. And when her degree was earned she simply kept on retreating. Her career was a long series of different posts as her wandering feet moved her before she could grow too attached to the charges she loved so much. She moved on before they sank their claws deep into her battered, untrusting heart. But now there was no further retreat to be had. She had nowhere to go. Funny for her to realize just then, in this sterile hallway before this stranger with his cat padding majestically away, that she’d reached the end.
She laughed a tight, sad little laugh and cocked her head to the side, her curls bouncing from the movement.

“I bet you never imagined when you turned to answer me, Mr. Eadoré, that you’d get such a long-winded and unsolicited confession. Perhaps I’d best retreat to my office and lose myself in my work and spare unsuspecting shipmates my odd little rambles.”

And there she was, retreating again.

“Or we can get you that antiseptic and pretend that I did this right and wasn’t the neurotic and odd woman who forgets her fellow humans in the face of a fine piece of tail." her words came out in a rush and once started she couldn't seem to stop.

"I don't suppose there is a bar here? I feel like I owe you a drink or something. No, I imagine it's too early for that, not to mention it probably isn't regulation or what have you, but still, human invention and... perhaps I should just stop talking while I am ahead?”

A sheepish apologetic smile peered out at him from under the curls as she held her breath waiting, not even certain which outcome was desired.

[Justric]

Hob stuck in tongue into his cheek and ran it along the flesh as he waited for her to wind down. When OLGA had trailed off to stare up at him from beneath long lashes and with such bright eyes, he calmly took another sip without breaking eye contact. Even that slow, shy smile... Damn. Talk about a sight to tug at the heart strings! The NI-tech didn't quite know where she was learning some of her human behaviors from, but it was obvious that she was an apt pupil. The again, could he blame her? OLGA could see out into the rest of the system and into the rest of the world, but she could never truly interact with it. There was no knowing how much a sense of her own mortality she had or if she feared death as humans knew it, but there was a fate he knew that would be horrible for her: to be forgotten. The notion that none of Second Shift had really bothered to interact with the AI at all became all the firmer in his mind. While she had been no doubt used by the other scientists on First and Second Shift, how many of them had a broad enough view of life to regard her as anything more than a computer? Whatever else she was, her personality was that of a teenager girl. And she had been ignored. That didn't sit well with Hob.

Still...

"You know what you're asking, don't you?" Hob was proud of himself. The tone of his voice remained calm and reasonable as he replied while maintaining a sufficient degree of gravitas. "Let's leave aside what would happen to me if they find that I let you out. Let's face it, OLGA, who else would do it but me? They're gonna know."

The fate in store for him if he broke a serious regulation, such as unshackling the AI to roam freely about the network willy-nilly, was not one he cared to think about or voice. He wasn't even sure if OLGA would know about it! It wasn't like the threat had been written down anywhere. Who cared about legalities when to a great degree the NI-Techs had no rights; half of them had been kidnapped and forced to undergo the surgeries to start with! For all that, the NI-Techs were too valuable to simply imprison or put back in storage or even execute. If one of them crossed the line too far and did something that could potentially put the ship and crew in danger, it was a sentence of living death. The offender would be placed in a drug-induced stupor, a medical coma, and then basically hardwired into an interface tube with feeding tubes and everything needed to keep the body alive. The brain's automatic portions would still synch to the Copernicus's life support and other regulatory systems even as the conscious mind was denied its freedom. All the headaches and nightmares with none of the perks. The other two NI-Techs on watch would have a bit more work to handle, but nothing impossible to deal with. And there was worse the higher-ups could mete out as punishment, things that were hinted at during the NI-Tech's orientation but never openly declared...

"Do you know what they'll do to you if they catch you messing about?" Hob asked pointedly. "Especially if something goes wrong? At best, they'll force the Doc to close off your windows and set user codes on everything. You'll be locked in here by yourself, unable to do anything or contact anyone or anything unless you're given permission by 'authorized personnel.' They'll cut you off entirely. Solitary confinement for the rest of the trip. How many cycles is that? Or they might shut you down entirely. As far as most of the folks are concerned, you... and to some degree me... are just a part of the ship. If they think you're too dangerous, they'll either try to replace you, jury-rig something else, or simply do without." He took a deep breath then, realizing he was about to tell her that the absolute worst would be exactly the same fate he would face if things truly went wrong. "At the worst... they'll have your father or some other computer whiz lobotomize you. They'll delete your personality matrix and just leave the bits that do the job. Don't get me wrong, I think your father would fight tooth and nail to keep that from happening! But the military jerks in charge of this thing have one goal in mind: the survival of the human race at all costs. If command thinks drastic measures are needed, they'll take those measures regardless of their personal feelings; they may not give your father a choice."

Hob let that sink into OLGA's head for a long, silent second as he paused to sip his beer. Not once did his gaze leave those lovely green eyes of hers, and once more he was struck by the wistful regret that there were some things that were simply beyond possibility.

"That said," he followed up after swallowing, "When do you want to do it?"

Jerking a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the authorities, Hob smirked. "Let's face it, OLGA. Whatever else you are, whatever else I am, you're my friend. Pretty much my only friend. I get along with Yuriko and Charlie, sure, but that's not the same thing. So I either trust you as a friend or I don't. Besides, let's face it. This place is a prison. You've said so yourself, although not in those worlds; you always know how everything works out. So... time to leave the nest, kiddo. Time for real adventure." He grinned broadly as a skeleton key of antiqued bronze appeared in his fingertips. "Time to grow up and take a chance. Whatever you do, just don't get caught, alright?"

Hob rose up and bent to place his beer bottle upon the floor before he walked over to her. Still looking down at OLGA, his eyes were full of compassion and regret as he reached down and handed her the key. "I'll also see about hooking you up to the holographic projectors in the auditorium later on. Won't be the same as interfacing like this, but maybe you can at least interact with others in person, so to speak, instead of just through the screens all the time."

[Igraine]

Abby knew very well, subsequent to innumerable basic lifesaver courses over the years, that slapping a choking person on the back was pretty much futile. But that didn't mean all the Mom instinct in her wasn't screaming to reach over and give Gavin's back a few hard, helpful smacks anyway when his hot coffee went down all wrong. The only thing that kept her in the seat was the knowledge her erstwhile efforts would probably end up sending scalding coffee in Gavin's lap, and he probably wouldn't thank her for yanking him from an uncomfortable - but recoverable - bit of sputtering, to a burn injury of the groin...

She chuckled at the thought, waving away Gavin's self-deprecations with a wave of her hand and a roll of her eyes until he began to speak in earnest, sharing his own knowledge of the cryobeds even she had not realized. Her fingers wrapped tighter still about the mug in her lap, her shoulders aching and stiff with the tension. Abby had not even considered the idea, that Sy Jacobs could not have managed the medications in the cryobeds on his own, her own expertise [or blinders] leading her to question how the security measures and alarms could have been breached...

Abby let loose a long, pent-up breath, ice blue eyes closing for a moment against the relentless ache in her head, returned with a vengeance and punctuated like a sledgehammer by Gavin's every last dire word. She let loose her two-fisted death grip around her own mug of coffee, finger and thumb massaging the bridge of her nose some seconds before she could open her eyes semi-comfortably again.

"Oh 'I think,' Gavin. I really do think. That's why I'm here, talking to the smartest man I've ever met," she said softly, though with a firm conviction as her fingers wrapped about the mug again. "And it doesn't hurt that your coffee's always second to none anyway."

A breathy gasp of a laugh escaped her lips, but Abby knew her small attempt at a jest was lame and broken from the moment it left her mouth, and mercifully died in the air between them.

"But no, nothing you're telling me now doesn't square with the big fat ugly suspicion Second Shift missed something huge. An accomplice? I'll admit, it's a stretch. The survivor... " Abby let loose of her mug, setting it up on the counter beside them swiftly before the fingers of one hand flickered over her tablet again. She lifted it up a few inches toward her face, squinting and resisting the urge to purloin Gavin's reading glasses again.

"Pauline," Abby said finally, laying the tablet back to her lap again. "Pauline Weber is her name. Pauline only identified one attacker, but... Damn... God alone knows what the hell she had coursing through her veins at the time. And Jacobs never gave up an accomplice's name, not even to save his hide from execution. Then again... "

Abby's voice trailed off, the frustration gnawing at her gut just begging for some small confidence to lighten the load she carried, even by a single ounce. "Gavin, what I'm about to say doesn't leave this room. Please. Between you, me, and these four walls, yes?"

She leaned forward toward Gavin without even realizing she did so, as if even this small measure helped keep her words closer still between them. "Even if Jacobs had coughed up an accomplice, I don't believe for a second that would have saved him from being shot out an airlock. Jacobs' execution was a foregone conclusion, the moment he laid a finger on General Lahan's daughter."

Abby sighed, and then sat back in her chair once more, taking a long final swallow of her coffee before setting the empty mug on the counter. "And the interviews of Second Shift personnel? They're woefully short on particulars - cursory, at best. All I can imagine is that they had their guy, and wanted the whole Godforsaken mess done and sealed and over with. Anything further digging was just... Well... Unwelcome. Unthinkable."

'Unthinkable... Until it suddenly isn't.'

"No one even thought to nab a friendly cryotech as a subject matter expert either. Antoine Eodore - that's his name. And it was hard not to notice, he was the only one of the cryotechs in the Third Shift briefing who had the huevos to stand up and name himself."

Abby shrugged her shoulders helplessly, one eyebrow arched dubiously. "Not a clue if that makes him honest, callous or just batshit crazy, but he's as good a place to start as any. I plan to catch up with him later today, but I'd really like you there with me. Seriously, if he starts throwing technical jargon at me in that French accent, I'm just going to blank and stand there nodding like a bobblehead doll... "

"Spare me the humiliation of becoming the embodiment of another 'dumb blonde' stereotype, Gavin." Abby graced the doctor with her widest, sweetest smile, a little surprised to discover doing so actually helped lift her spirits, even a little. "Please... ?"

[Derren Krenshaw]

Antoine nearly cut his tongue on his teeth, biting back laughter that would only serve to scare the poor lady more.

Part of him urged to look for a retreat, himself, the part that took stock of each woman who crossed his gaze and judged who might be worth the time to pursue. Nervous ramblings tended to raise more red flags than green ones, the sympathy and desire to comfort raised by such acts usually falling to tears in the end. Part of her seemed eager to simply walk away, to escape the hole she was excavating by any means possible. That part of him saw it as an opportunity to do the same, to let her escape and in turn find freedom himself.

But that part of him was fought by the part who felt that, if nothing more, Ms. Albright was a woman he would run into often, and should have a good impression of him.

And both of those parts, were swiftly being drowned out by the desire to devolve into unabashed hysterics at the comment she made- either from nervous naiveté or as a frighteningly cunning lure. Either way, those words couldn't help but bring a smile to Antoine's lips.

He often found himself distracted in the face of a 'fine piece of tail', as well. It'd be wrong to fault someone else for the same.

"Well, I'm in a listening mood. So we can get that antiseptic and say you're a lady who loves to entertain her patients, animal or otherwise. What do you think?" Part of him wanted to pat her on the shoulder, but he wasn't sure he could stop himself from following the act up with a 'there there, it's all right'. So he settled for the warm smile and a simple gesture to continue -walking or talking or both, whichever she might take from it. The gesture was comfortable, so easy to make he had to do it a second time.

"And as for the bar? Well I've always found drinks to taste better when you're happy or celebrating. Those are the best times to break regulation as well, so if you find your self in a particularly wonderful mood..." Gesturing a third time just to savor the sensation again, he leaned forward as if sharing some dire secret. "I can show you a place some might cal a bar."

[Lillian Thorne]

Penny stood before this charming man with his lovely workman’s hands and nodded and grinned and got lost several times in the course of his speech. It didn’t matter, she loved it and wanted him to talk and talk and her grin said as much. He seemed rather inclined to do so and she was rather inclined to let him. His name was jack and there were gobs and apparently she had one or was one? It didn’t matter, she’d be a gob and his Penny and he’d be Jack to her if he just kept rambling on.

She did honestly try to follow along, it was a delightful distraction from that horrible on the spot moment of before. She could feel the two men behind her, Josey all sweetly affronted for her sake despite her being a stranger. Then there was Henry, whom she wanted to feed and flee from all at once. A rapist. Part of her wanted to know the circumstances, the rest of her said the circumstances didn’t matter in the least. She shook off the uncomfortable thought and returned to the delicious ramble from her new friend Jack who apparently wanted a slut.

She couldn’t’ help it, she giggled when he said the word. She knew from something like context that it didn’t mean to him what it meant to her and hearing that oh so crude word dropped so blithely was worthy of a giggle that made her eyes dance and her hand lift to cover her mouth like such a gesture could hold in the mirth.

Then he started to explain, real slow like and that just made it funnier to her. She didn’t exactly follow but the slow explanation and then hand gestures started to paint a picture for her. Slowly like a seed in one of the hydroponic tanks her understanding grew and then her eyes widened in understanding. He was talking about booze. He was talking about moonshine and what’s more he was talking about doing it under the radar of the authorities. Oh how wicked, how wonderful. Images of flappers and speakeasies flashed into her head, gilded and frosted with romanticism rather than reality. A speakeasy in the stars, how perfect.

She let out a high pitched sound of delight when it all clicked into place and she bounced on her heels. When Penny bounced, things happened. Softness shifted and moved and made itself known in appealing little jiggles all over several key parts of her.

“Are you talking about a still, Jack?” she asked finally in an excited stage whisper. “Like for making booze?”

She looked back over her shoulder at Josey, her eyes all alight, nodding her head as if coaching him to agree.

“Can we? Pretty please?”

[Lillian Thorne]

Ok, so it was a disaster, she was running at the mouth and nothing like sense was coming out. But he wasn’t running. Whether out of pity or kindness or some sort of masochism she couldn’t tell. But he was willing to play along and was being rather nice about it. The least she could do was hold her tongue and not run screaming from him, poor man. The latter was much harder than the former but she managed it. She turned and moved towards her shaky recollection of the route she’d chosen on the map trusting Mr. Eadoré to follow or flee as fit his mood.

As she walked she ran through a variety of possible topics to fill in the quiet space between them but nothing felt like it wouldn’t feel forced. She could talk about her work she supposed but beyond owning Mowzer, or being owned by, she didn’t know how much interest he had in animals. She worried about asking after his life lest she bring up the loss they had all experienced. The loss that felt like an oppressive pallor to Stella at all times. The metal of the hallway, the distant hums and beeps of machinery wore at her and the silence that was anything but silent became almost too much. But they then they were outside her office which was blessedly empty. She wasn’t certain what the set up for the second shift was for Veterinary services but she imagined she’d have all sorts of things to read and make sense of. But notes, even on one of those horrible tablets were better than people telling her too much all at once.

She opened the door and gestured Mr. Eadoré in and walked the few strides to the small medical kit by the door that lead to the animals, ignoring the desk with it’s blinking screen that no doubt had a million things she’d need to attend to. Not yet though. She’d petted one fine piece of tale and then embarrassed herself. She found she was needing a bit more fur therapy and maybe it could work into an effective round about apology.

It was a matter of seconds to open the box and pull out the small bottle of spray antiseptic and held it up to him.

“We’ll get you cleaned up and then if you like you can come along as I tour the nursery and see what’s new. Wanna pet a baby apex predator?”

She pulled the top off and tossed it to the desk where it bounced of that cursed blinking screen and clattered into the corner. She ignored it.

“Lift your shirt so I can get your back.”

[Igraine]

((collab with Idlehands, RoadRash and Igraine))

Mike stood before the small mirror in his cramped room, clad in his undershirt, trousers, and boots, carefully inspecting his shave. The last thing he wanted on his first real day as SRT Leader was to be caught wandering the halls of the Copernicus in a state that his old Drill Instructors would have considered “unsat”. After a few moments of scrutiny, he beamed a smile at his reflection, gave it the old “Fonzy” thumbs, then threw on his black-digital blouse and buttoned it down, smoothing the front before buckling his duty-belt into place.

The various bits-and-pieces of his SRT loadout went into their respective pouches; two pairs of handcuffs, some vicious orange-slime-of-pain-style pepper spray, a collapsible ASP baton, and his 3-battery mag-light that, truth be told, made a meaner club than his baton.

He slipped the two-shot TASER into its holster on his left hip, grip forward, then performed a quick function check on his M9A3 sidearm. The pistol was a favorite of his; originally a Beretta 96, the pistol had been retooled by the military to fire the NATO 10mm round, a bullet of surprising stopping-power. They’d added an integrated laser sight, a rail under the barrel for the attached flashlight, and then topped it all off with a threaded barrel, currently protected with a screw-on cap. He racked a round into the chamber, then ejected the magazine and slipped one more bullet into it to ensure a full load. Mike knew from experience that sometimes, that one extra bullet meant the difference between life and death.

The pistol went into its place in the tactical-holster on his right thigh, and Mike slipped his radio earbud into place and triggered the mic.

“Messiah, Messiah, this is Prophet. Radio-check, over.”

The lightly-accented voice of Corporal Jesus “Messiah” Lopez buzzed faintly in his ear.

“Roger, Prophet. Have you Lima-Charlie. It’s about time you got to work, ese.”

“Noted. Save me some lunch, chunk. Don’t wanna have to put you on half-rations. Prophet out.”

Mike chuckled, shaking his head at the familiar banter as he settled his freshly-pressed cover into place, and left his room for his patrol with a bounce in his step.

---

One uneventful hour later, Mike’s wandering patrol route led him into the garden section of the ship. He passed through the tropical area, a grin on his face as he lightly played his fingers over the leaves of real, honest-to-God trees for the first time in days. Wandering into the Mediterranean biome, he momentarily lost himself in the emptiness of the gardens, enjoying a few minutes with nobody else around so he could let his guard down. A rap song began bumping in his head, and he sang along out loud as he passed into the temperate-forest biome.

“I won’t deny it, I’ma straight ridah, you don’ wanna fuck wit’ me...Got da po’lice bustin’ at me...But they can’t do nuttin’ to a G’…”

Mike froze mid-song and mid-stride, caught in the middle of a shuffling dance that he pulled off with surprising grace. Blinking, he looked from Naomi, to Ester, then to Pauline, before breaking into a sheepish grin and settling back into a relaxed stance, his hands casually on his hips.

“Ladies! How might you three be doing today?”

They looked up at the strange sound that rang clearly in the quiet garden. The sight of the young sergeant singing and dancing made Naomi burst into laughter, her smile wide and full of amusement. Ester caught sight of him from over her shoulder and she felt a sudden tightening in her stomach. As he looked up at them and spoke, she looked away quickly, certain her face was turning a shade to match the ripe raspberries that lined the trail. It was him, that handsome soldier from the briefing and her palms began to sweat.

Naomi noticed her reaction and tried to contain her giggling at her composed older sister suddenly turning into a blushing schoolgirl. Ester’s dark eyes were wide as Naomi subtly pulled her around even as she resisted.

“We’re doing well, sir!” Naomi called out with a smile, one hand on her belly and the other on her sister’s arm. “How could we not in a place as lovely as this?”

“And we get a show at that!” Pauline quipped with a wide grin of her own, giggling softly, her fingers over her mouth for a moment before she forced them away from her mouth, and back to her side. Always, she would associate the sight of a man in military dress with safety, with comfort and security even in the most hellish of storms.

And besides, he did have a nice smile, and an easygoing way about him that simply radiated genuine warmth and good humor, no matter the more deadly accoutrements holstered, stowed away and tucked into his service belt.

Pauline glanced toward the sisters from the corner of her eye, still keeping that bright, pretty smile despite her genuine surprise at Ester’s sudden, silent timidity. For no reason she could name, Pauline’s first impression of the elder sister was one that whispered “eternally composed.” Ester’s reticence to speak was not one she expected, but no matter. It only goes to show the depths of a person aren’t always - well, almost never really - revealed by the surface they show the world.

“I’d ask you the same, but it seems safe to say anyone bursting into song in the middle of a forest is probably rather alright with the whole, wide world. Well, even if it is rap… ” Pauline wrinkled her freckled nose with another small laugh.

Mike winked, grinning from ear to ear.

“Hey now, there’s nothing wrong with paying homage to the great 2Pac,” he said, raising a finger in mock admonition. “The man’s not just a rapper, he’s a legend.”

He took in Pauline’s face for a moment, trying to place the feeling of recognition she evoked, before snapping his fingers.

“I remember you. You were in one of the civilian convoys that made it to The Mountain. My team was with the group that helped bring you guys in.”

Mike’s thoughts flashed briefly back to the running battle against the Kind on the highway leading into The Mountain’s security perimeter. A brief smile of pride touched his lips, despite the horror associated with fighting the monsters. It had been his SRT group’s first action together, fighting alongside a contingent of MPs. His men had performed exactly as operators of their standing were expected to; all noise and fury, black-clad gods of war, leaping unhesitatingly from their vehicle and holding off a large group of Kind while MPs in ACUs had loaded the civilians from a damaged SUV into one of their transport trucks. He shook his head to banish the sounds of gunfire and shrieking monsters, the ghost-whiff of sulfur and cordite and blood the memories brought, and surveyed the other two women in the group.

“I’m Sergeant Davis, but pretty ladies who catch me singing get to call me Mike.”

Naomi nodded, “Well, hi there, Mike. I’m Naomi Ben Zeev, another holdover from the second shift as you can see. I’m afraid my sister, Ester Baum, and I missed that excitement.”

She nudged her when she spoke her name and Ester turned all the way around to face the smiling soldier. She stared at him for a moment and dropped her gaze, feeling Naomi squeeze her arm.

“These are her gardens,” she said, her elbow tapping against Ester’s side.

Ester looked up at the trees, the flowers and anywhere but Mike’s face and she nodded, feeling her ears burn, “Yes, I’m in charge of the botanical project for this shift. The gardens, the hydroponic farms, the labs...”

She trailed off and brushed a hand over her long brown hair, finally looking him in the eyes. And what clear green eyes they were. “If...you know, you want to see anything of mine...I mean of the farm or gardens...not that you would be interested in such, it’s not anything exciting.”

She cleared her throat, embarrassed at her awkwardness and it did not help that Naomi giggled at her slip of the tongue.

For one brief, mortifying moment, Pauline’s face went as pale as Ester’s was red, her heart in her throat when Mike exclaimed he remembered her. Dear God in heaven, no… She didn’t want to be known for that, recognized for what had been done to her - but then she sighed with relief, catching her breath while bright sunny Naomi and sweetly demure Ester spoke their own introductions. She heard the words, heard the sisterly teasing implicit in the giggles, and the sweet, silly memories of her own sister Eva helped set her racing heart right again.

Pauline was so grateful for the respite and so adored Naomi, she could never hold it against the kindly younger sister that she spoke of what her people endured on the way to The Mountain as merely “excitement.” Of course Naomi wasn’t there, and Mike spoke so lightly of what happened to the caravan from Rock Springs - how could she possibly know? Who could imagine the ravages of monsters as black and foul as anything found in the pits of Hell? Pauline could still hear the din of little Aaron Rice’s screams in her head, even deafened as she should have been by the gunfire and screeching shrieks of the Kind as they fed…

Quickly she shook her head, let out a breath as she smiled at Mike, and held out her hand to him in that quintessentially American greeting. “Pauline Weber, and I hope you’ll forgive me for not recognizing you too. You were kinda… Well… “ She ran the fingers of her other hand lightly about her face as she laughed, more her vibrant self with every passing moment.

“A little more incognito, what with the helmet, the glasses, that black thing up over half your face there. But I promise, if you break out in 2Pac again in all that gear? I’ll never make that mistake again.”

“Naomi, Ester...And Pauline,” Mike said, shaking her hand firmly and quirking his eyebrow in recognition of the name. He continued smoothly, changing the subject as quickly as possible. After an experience like hers, he was sure she didn’t want to be reminded of it.

“To be fair, we didn’t exactly have time for introductions, what with the gunfire and monsters all over the place.”

He favored the shy Ester with a grin, then gestured at the flora around them.

“So all of this is your baby, eh? That sounds like a lot of work. I’m glad I’ve only got four knuckle-heads I have to keep an eye on, instead of several jungles and a couple of farms.”

He reached out and brushed a few leaves, nodding thoughtfully to himself.

“My mom would love it here,” he murmured. “If the cedars in Lebanon have gone the same way as the trees in the States, I’m sure she’s pissed.”

Mike was never aware of referring to his parents in the present tense. It simply never entered his mind as a possibility that they’d be anything but alive and well. After all, Mike had learned everything he knew about being dangerous from his father, the Marine-Turned-Mercenary. Ryan Davis was the human definition of “lethal”, and Mike knew that somewhere down on that rock they’d left behind, his scarred up old man was keeping his mother safe and sound behind a wall of biting sarcasm and terrifyingly accurate gunfire.

Ester’s eyes brightened and despite her anxiety a small smile twitched her full lips. Indeed the gardens were her baby, to nurture and guide, to make them fulfill their potential. His mention of the famous cedars of Lebanon made her forget her self consciousness for the moment.

“Your mother has a special affinity for the Cedrus libani?” she asked, surprised. “A very historical plant, the Phoenicians conquered the Mediterranean on ships made of those trees. King Solomon built his temple out of cedar.”

She paused, realizing she was running away with the subject that was dear to her. Ester looked away, toward the way Mike had come from. “If you wish to see them, they’re in that room you just came out of. At the back, samples procured from Mount Lebanon itself. Not many Americans appreciate the value of those trees.”

Ester dared a smile at him, despite the heated blush she felt rise again in her face. Naomi kept quiet, biting her lip to stifle a laugh at her sister. Of course the only thing that would bring her out of her shell was to talk about her work. She hoped it at least broke the ice with her and she would relax.

And just as Ester began to bloom so sweetly, Pauline’s petals wrapped slowly, almost protectively about her though the ever-present smile never left her face, rather like a mask. Mike was a kind man, a good soul without a doubt and a brave one at that. But the lift of his eyebrow, the hesitant start she felt in his handshake and the too-smooth change of subject said all she needed to know, of what he truly knew about her. The soldier would never mean to hurt her, not in the least. But she hurt anyway, and the young woman took a step back as the talk turned to the value of Lebanon’s cedars.

“Naomi, I completely forgot, I meant to go see about some of the Third shift in the hangars,” she said in a soft whisper, not completely a lie though she wished Father Heffernan was awake so she could make the confession anyway. Pauline lifted to her toes to give her friend a light, swift kiss on the cheek, taking her fingers and giving them a gentle squeeze.

“Ester, I’m sure I’ll catch up with you soon enough - and thank you for everything. The tour. The figs. The ginger... “ Pauline did truly laugh then, a soft tinkling like sunshine as she turned to Mike.

“And so good to… Well, we’ve met before, haven’t we? See you again, I guess?” The young woman nodded, with another smile, a little tighter but closer to genuine nonetheless as she turned toward the exit. To walk, not jog. Certainly not run.

Naomi noticed the sudden change in her light hearted friend, like the drawing of the blinds against a sunny day. Something had reminded her of...that. She looked at Ester and though her sister was shy and introverted she seemed to be relaxing and did not need her, not the way Pauline might.

“Well, I hate to say hello and goodbye but the baby is kicking me in just the right spot and I’ve got to find a restroom,” she said cheerfully, giving Mike a wave. “Enjoy the gardens, it’s a welcome respite from all the hologrammed nature around the ship.”

She moved quickly after Pauline, her slender frame swaying slightly as she walked. Naomi caught up and walked in silence next to her, reaching out after a moment to touch her hand briefly. She wanted to go to the cryobed area anyway and it was halfway to the hangars.

Ester watched the go, her lips slightly parted in confusion at the sudden retreat. She was alone now with Mike and she slowly turned back to him, unsure what to say. Her sister had abandoned her but nature called, as it were.

[KuroTenshi]

(Collab between Idle, Kuro and Dot)

Someone’s voice was louder than hers, which would have caught Deli’s attention even if she hadn’t guessed this was who they were waiting for. She turned just in time to watch him enter the hangar and was already beaming brightly by the time he spotted her, several raging seconds into his diatribe.

She seemed utterly unfazed by his words – though she realized now she was hungry, and would do pretty much anything for a box of Thin Mints – instead stepping forward to meet him, one hand outstretched to grasp the entirety of his pointing fist. His hands, perhaps unsurprisingly, dwarfed hers in an instant, but Deli didn’t mind that much, either.

“Curmy, hi!” she said brightly. “I’m Deli. I blow things up.” She sent a sidelong glance back to Reece and winked conspiratorially. “But only outside. Because your friend is attached to his limbs.” She giggled at her own joke before her green eyes drifted to the drill bit balanced on the older man’s shoulder.

“Guay,” she said, eyes widening as she took in the giant piece of machinery just as she had the giant man before her. “Qué es eso?? Er…Sorry, I mean, what’s that?” She inched forward until she was standing what was probably uncomfortably close to the excavator.

Connor jumped from inside of the engine when he heard someone roaring at the top of their lungs. The sounds echoed off the metal walls of the pod and he crawled his way back out of small space to see what was going on.

He rubbed his forearm across his forehead to mop up the small amount of sweat on his forehead. He peaked out from the open door of the cargo bay and grimaced when he saw the source of the commotion. It was the giant, bearded miner from the briefing and he looked like a pissed off grizzly bear at the moment.

He felt bad for the curly haired girl that currently had a blunt finger pointed at her. He wondered what her job was, her age didn’t really bother him considering he was probably around the same age as her. He knew not to underestimate someone because of their age. Still he certainly didn’t want to be in her place at the moment. In fact it sounded like Loretta’s engine was calling him back…

It was a flash of blue that drew Del’s attention aside at the last minute, subjecting the young demolitionist to one of her greatest weaknesses – distraction, in the form of meeting new people. This person in particular. Deli’s first love had, in no uncertain terms, been destroying everything in her sight. But she’d adopted a keen love for machinery and robotics in her early teen years, and those that were specialized to blow things up held a special place in her heart.

“Hi, I’m Deli,” she said again, almost vibrating now with excited energy. She was glad they’d woken her up, gladder still to get to work. She’d almost forgotten about being moved around, maybe to accommodate her iffy past. “Do you need help with the engine?”

“Uh,” Connor should have been faster to duck back inside of the pod. The clashing energies of the giant angry miner and the smaller cheerful woman, Deli, was a bit staggering. “I’m good.” He answered slowly, walking out completely onto the ramp since he’d been caught glancing down at his feet. His fault for picking the loudest color possible for his hair, even if he did love it, it did not help with stealth. “I’m Connor.” He introduced himself rubbing the back of his neck. He appreciated the offer to help with the pods, he was actually going to need it, but he didn’t know Deli’s credentials and at the moment he was feeling a bit territorial of what he considered to be his ‘babies’.

Owen Reece looked up as Bill stormed in, the filthy drill bit over his shoulder. He shook his head, the mining crew of the second shift had really gone to shit at the end, seeing only that their work was coming to an end and their rest was soon. Like a barn broke horse, he thought and made a note to keep that from happening in their watch.

He raised his eyebrows at him when Deli spoke out and he waited to see how his old friend would react, “Ah, yeah...that’s our demo man...person. I’m still not quite assured I’ll end up with all my fingers intact but we’ll see.”

Deli threw him another sheepish grin. “S’okay. I read somewhere you only really need...half of your fingers. Half, total. Five. Not half of all ten fingers, that would be weird.” She made a face then turned back their mechanic and waved. “Hi, Connor.”

Reece spotted Conner and looked a bit relieved, gesturing at him to join them. “Deli, you got someone your age to play with.”

Connor wrinkled his nose a bit at the quip but jumped down off the ramp and onto the floor. “We should conspire against them in our blanket fort.” He mocked whispered to Deli.

Deli blinked, first in suspicion, then in disbelief, before nodding, completely straight-faced. “Would that be before or after nap time?”

“After, you want to be all cranky and not thinking straight? We need to be well rested.” Connor shook his head as though he was exasperated. He was trying hard not to laugh but his lips wouldn’t stop twitching as he fought off a smile.

“Alright kids, juice boxes and cookies when our training simulation is over,” Reece drawled and turned to Bill. “Conner here is gonna run those mechanics ragged over the pods and he’ll make sure the mining equipment gets the same treatment. As soon as the maintenance crew assembles we’ll get them scrubbing.”

He absently popped another toothpick in his mouth, the craving for a cigarette strong right now at his irritation with the previous shift. It was concerning how so many hand picked professionals got so sloppy. Reece rubbed his short beard thoughtfully, giving it a tug. He would look around his office, see if the last pilot captain had left any clues as to why such a thing would happen.

He stepped over to the blue haired kid and muttered, “You been in your office yet?”

Connor shifted just a little back when he felt his bubble of personal space was invaded too much. It wasn’t anything personal against Reece he was just anal about being too close to people he hardly knew. “Briefly. I read the last mechanic’s notes and did a little diagnostics for the pods then got straight to work because Loretta wasn’t working at all. Why?”

“Just wondering,” he replied after a moment of silence. He rolled the toothpick around in his mouth, his mind obviously turning over the matter.

Connor shot him a confused look, not understanding why it mattered if he had been in his office already. “The previous guy left that a mess too.” His fingers twitched at the thought of the mess and pushed aside the urge to go back and clean everything up. This was a bit more important than a messy office. “Did you want me to go look for something specifically?”

[Igraine]

Pauline felt the brush of Naomi's fingers against her own as they left, and she smiled sadly as she turned to her friend. And though she could not have read Naomi's mind, her friend was entirely correct of course: Pauline did need her now, though that need didn't encompass much more than simply the calm, soothing presence of the gentle, shining woman who walked beside her. Oh most certainly there were moments that they spoke, and sometimes they even spoke of the... The harder things of her life, and Naomi's strong shoulder had been soaked with tears Pauline had shared with no one else.

But this was not one of those moments, and it seemed Naomi knew this instinctually. The two ladies walked in that comfortable silence, the kind full of unspoken understandings between two dear friends as they moved through the Copernicus' halls, and Pauline pulled herself together all over again. She knew she ought to track down poor Mike, and apologize for being so... Flighty. Well, rude really...

Pauline smiled to herself then, just a little. Mike was a big boy, he'd be just fine and Ester's company was certainly no hardship - any more than her little sister's, no matter the differences between earth and sky. The young women parted at the pod bay where Naomi's beloved husband slept, a soft kiss on the cheek and a gentle squeeze of their clasped hands, promises made to catch up with one another a little later as well.

Pauline took a deep breath as she took those first steps toward the hangar she hadn't seen in months. The mining pod mechanic who'd worked there for the second shift? Steve hadn't been... Well... Fond of her. She had tried to understand of course, and she did forgive when he'd finally given up all pretense of tolerating her genuine offers of help, and finally just told her to get the hell out, and not come back. Steve was sad. He was hurting, just like everyone else was on the Copernicus, in one way or other. His sadness didn't turn to tears though, but to ugliness and anger - and Pauline really did understand, that sometimes it's just easier to be mad than sad.

But that didn't mean she wouldn't try again, to see if this shift mechanic and his crew might have a little change of heart? It wasn't arrogance or pride speaking, when Pauline acknowledged to herself she really did have a certain useful skill set, that really could be useful to the mining crews - if anyone would ever give her a chance to be more than another pregnant woman in the nursery. Well, it never hurt to try, and the worst anyone could say was 'no' - and it certainly wouldn't be the first time she heard that anyway. She didn't like it, any more than anyone else would, but 'no' didn't kill you. She'd survive.

She hadn't even stepped foot into the hangar, before hearing the sounds that announced the place was far from empty. Pauline peered around the corner of the enormous doorway, toward the lively gathering near Steve's old pod ship, and wondered just how likely this shot at finding a place was going to turn out.

The young woman started as she felt a pressure at her leg, eyes wide as she looked down to the floor - and then laughed so softly. "Oh! Well hello there handsome," Pauline whispered, bending to pet the pretty spotted cat's perfectly shaped, perfectly soft head for a moment, a scritch behind the ears gently before he was on again about his own business once more, walking into the bay as if he just owned the whole place.

There was no shame in taking courage from a cat!

Pauline did just that, sliding quietly into the hangar, past the pod ship and toward the office, her big blue eyes still wide and wondering as she watched one of the strangest assemblages of people she'd ever seen. The slender blue-haired man with the tattoos and the hilarious taste in T-shirts seemed, well he seemed a bit bewildered - especially next to the ebullient, pretty little lady with the bouncy curls all pulled back (though Pauline wondered that any binding could hold all that hair - much less the woman they sprang from - for very long).

But the most magnificent sight in the entire bay at this moment, was the enormous, drill bit-wielding man (dear sweet heaven, but he was HUGE!) who put her in mind of nothing less than an enraged Santa Claus who'd spent not-a-few years in the WWF circuit. Pauline clapped her hand over her mouth quickly over her mouth at the thought, keeping the sudden giggles inside as her eyes flickered to the handsome older man with the stunning grey eyes. The way he moved, the way he talked and stood there - even if she couldn't hear their words, she felt sure somehow that he was the 'guy in charge.'

Pauline didn't stay to listen in on whatever passed for conversation among this motley group - if she were lucky and diligent enough, she just might find out herself one day. For now she had a mission, and a hope - however slender that might be. She let herself into the office unnoticed (or at the very least, no one moved to stop her - she'd take that as a semi-good sign). A soft sigh escaped her lips as she peered about. She might have known Steve would have left things just like this, but that didn't stopper the disappointment, that he hadn't really climbed his way out before he finally just gave himself over to cryosleep...

There was no time to waste pouting though. She had no idea when these people would finally break their funky little clatch, or when the mechanic might traipse in, and so Pauline moved like the wind. First things first - she collected all the garbage, the detritus of apathy, filling a bag full of old coffee cups and wrappers and ancient printouts to be tossed and setting it by the door. Another search procured a very full bottle of computer equipment cleaner, a few precious recycled paper towels and a can of air for cleaning the more vital, delicate parts of the circuitry and electronics.

Pauline threw herself into her work with relish, wiping every last thing in her reach until it shone. She even balanced precariously to reach those items she could not at first, wavering and wiggling in such a way that Naomi, were she there, likely would have chewed her out (in the nicest of ways and much deservedly anyway). The various consoles received all her most special attentions though, as Pauline ensured the fragile, delicate arrays were freed of dust and - to her everlasting disgust - dried up coffee drips and bits of potato chip, sandwich bread crumbs and sticky buns.

She even wiped down the rolling chairs until the vinyl gleamed and, the instant the last one dried, fell into one with a weary little grin, throwing her hands up in victory as she tossed that last paper towel with a perfect shot into the now-full garbage bag. The entire office smelled... Well, Pauline supposed the slightly astringent smell of cleaning fluid had to be a nicer scent than molded coffee filters, old body funk and even older, leftover food.

Pauline sighed happily as she took up one of the tablets on the gleaming metal counters, settling back into the chair with such a slouch that Sister Mary Frances, her third grade teacher, probably would have been obliged to chastise her if she witnessed such poor posture! Her fingers flew over the small screen as a holographic display screen appeared before her, flickering into life as Pauline searched for the file of equations and calculations she'd had to leave behind...

More victory! "And the crowd goes wild!" Pauline threw her arms overhead again, tablet in hand as she twirled around a couple times in her chair, toes tapping wildly on the floor as she flew about, mouth open and smiling as she breathed that funny sound that emulated an enormous crowd of screaming fans.

But the whirling probably wouldn't do her stomach good for long, and Pauline knew it of course. She stopped, and hugged her tablet tightly for a moment before getting right back to those equations, and the world of variables, possibilities and chance she knew so very, very well.

[Derren Krenshaw]

Maybe he had scared her a bit? Instead of seeming reassured or opening up more, Ms. Albright only closed in on herself, moving steadily along towards the veterinary wards. Not ideal, not at all, but perhaps there was hope to be found behind those bouncing curls.

That in mind, Antoine followed her with a steady smile, glancing around only quickly when they at last reached Ms. Albright's office. Given how recently she -and most of the shift- had been awakened, it was possible this was the first time she had stepped in here herself. Still, though, personal offices and workspaces tended to hold an attachment to the people who worked within them, and he'd rather not embarrass the lady any more by appearing as if he was judging the space.

Besides, she had turned back to him once more. Far better to pay attention to her than anything else.

"A private tour, how could I pass that up?" He flashed her a wide grin before turning around and raising his shirt. Mowzer's most recent marks stood out starkly against his skin, angry red lines overlaying the faint, pale reminders of previous climbs. Apart from those, however, his back was in great condition. There were a couple, star-shaped scars near his left shoulder blade, sure, and the solid line running up his neck from the middle of his upper back. But given the badges he had seen more than a few friends sporting on their own flesh, it seemed nothing to make a deal over.

"It's not often I get to play patient." He couldn't help but chuckle at the though, arms up by his ears to keep his shirt out of the way. "It's kind of fun."

[idlehands]

Her giggles made Henry’s heart speed up. Certainly she was focused on the man with the funny accent and he could not see her face from where he stood but he could imagine how it must light up and how her eyes must have shone. He sighed quietly, watching Jack and Penny engage in a confusing conversation. Josey was just behind him and it made it impossible for him to slink away for when he made the move to leave, the man’s big hand fell on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze.

Henry stopped when Josey leaned in, whispering, “Don’t you go runnin’ off just yet. We got unfinished business once Mr. Pumphrey leaves.”

He nodded and gulped, Josey releasing his shoulder and the chef turned to the Newfie.

“‘Lasses? Whew, boy. Gonna cook up some shine then?” he laughed, his white teeth flashing against his dark skin. “I’ll see what we got. Sugar, honey we have for sure. Cupcake, the molasses would be in the bakery pantry if we got it. You can fetch some for Mr. Pumphrey if I can get a promise outta him for a jar off the first batch.”

Josey chuckled and leaned back against the counter top next to the stove. Henry stood awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, alone and unengaged in the conversation apparently about moonshine. He would not have any of it, when he gave up drugs like weed, meth and whatever else he could get his hands on he gave up booze as well. Anything that would make him slip and lose control. He had to maintain control always lest he become that person again. He shuddered slightly, as if suddenly cold, and he turned away from the delightful vision of Penny’s round backside. There would be none of that either.

No girls, no booze, no drugs. Henry closed his eyes a moment, taking a few deep breaths, remembering the mediation exercises. His thin chest rose and fell and he opened his eyes again, reaching for his mop. It was better to focus on his work, get the kitchen spotless and feeding the crew of the ship. He began mopping furiously, the sinews of his wiry arms standing out as he pushed the mop back and forth.

Josey glanced his way and shook his head once, he would still have to deal with the Henry situation and he needed Penny’s opinion on the matter. He admitted to himself he had put the poor girl on the spot but the idea of having her work with someone with Henry’s past made his stomach sour. He was not sure he would even want to share space with the kid but he was a large man and Henry was not danger to him. Penny, however...Josey chewed over the issue until he noticed Henry had stopped mopping and was attending to his tablet.

The beep had taken him by surprise and yet he had been expecting it. A surge of anxiety hit him as Henry tapped it and saw a blinking message from Dr. Park, the ship’s shrink. He would return to his sessions and it filled him with a mixture of dread and relief.

[Lillian Thorne]

Stella didn’t spare a moment to look around the office. Technically it was hers, but she hadn’t made it hers yet. There were no signs of her habitation, just like in her quarters. No real sign that anyone lived or worked there outside the few stray items the person she was replacing hadn’t cleaned out. She frowned at the thought and made a point to try to track them down before they went under. Reports were all well and good but she knew from past experience that taking over from someone was more than just reading some reports. The only thing that kept her from filling someone else’s shoes was the fact that the entire shift was, well shifting. So she didn’t have to retrain anyone’s subordinates, just her own. It should make things easier and give her more time to do what she loved.

“No,” she said, a pause too long after his statement about being a patient. “No I don’t suppose you get to. But that’s a good thing, no?”

She turned her attention to the back bared before her and began to spritz the antiseptic on the numerous surface wounds left by the cat. There were marks of others, a testament to the human’s forbearance and the Cat’s committed bad-boy attitude. She smiled and sprayed and had enough sense to appreciate the canvas before her. Marks and all. She hesitated over the strange star shaped scars up near his left shoulder blade and the solid line running down his back and tried to discern what had happened there. Surgery for the straight line, she’d done enough operations on her charges to recognize the careful line. But the star shaped ones didn’t make sense at first.

Had he been in the military? Was everyone on this entire ship in the military? Not everyone, she assured herself, she was a stray picked up with her charges, there had to be others. He hadn’t seemed the type, but then she wasn’t certain what that even meant. She hadn’t spent much time around anyone in the military enough to know if there was a type. Put them in a uniform and she supposed that lent a very decided and probably useful anonymity and uniformity.

“You were a patient once, I see.” She touched the thin scar, running her finger up along it without thinking, only belatedly realizing that she maybe was crossing some lines and pulling her fingers back as she mentally cursed her fumble.

“Sorry, don’t mean to pry so I won’t ask if these are bullet wounds or anything so impertinent at that.”

She moved to the desk and put down her antiseptic. “All set.” She said her cheeks flaming and bent over the screen wrinkling her nose in distaste. She used to insist on paper reports but that wasn’t possible here. She would have to learn to deal.

“Let’s see what we have.” She murmured as she slowly and with great hesitation called up files and worked her way through it.

“Tigers and some Lynx kittens.” She said and looked up at him, blowing away a stray curl from her vision. The tigers were orphaned and more than that, they’d been rejected by the other nursing female tiger on board. That was a problem she’d have to ponder at a later point. For now, it meant some furry fun.