AmongHeroes
Member
♤ LOST ♤
- Last Seen: 6 days ago
- Old Guild Username: AmongHeroes
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 765 (0.19 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- AmongHeroes 11 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
WhiteAngel25,
wheels,
Rockette,
ppppppppp,
Zoie Hart,
DELETED35823,
Curious Fawn,
Zygfryt,
AlteredTundra,
AHeartlessNobody
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
ALWAYS SEARCHING FOR THE NEXT GREAT STORY
Most Recent Posts
Hey Justric and Igraine, just wanted to say sorry for holding you both up. I'll have a post up for certain for each of you tomorrow morning. A thousand apologies.
Amidst the now dancing glow of flames and the silver of a low moon, Thomas stood transfixed. Around him, he was aware of nothing. Nothing at all but the melodious elixir that poured into his ears like forbidden nectar. To his eyes, the inferno that had been the Crimson Feather, was not but a beacon of hopeful promise, silhouetting beautiful, even celestial figures of impossible brilliance.
Thomas’ mind was so drunk with the entrancing lilt of their song that he did not even perceive Antonia standing before him, and he certainly did not notice the arc of the looking-glass as it hurled towards his face. When it struck him, Thomas spun about like a puppet being twisted cruelly upon its strings. For the barest of moments his feet left the deck, and he turned almost fully from the sight of the burning Crimson Feather.
For the first time since his ears had been over-filled with the intoxicating song of the sirens, Thomas felt something other than unadulterated longing and awe. Pain shot through his cheek, shattering the heavy blanket of his trance like so much pane-glass. When he hit the deck upon week knees and heavy hands, he gasped in shock. His heart roared in his ears as blood spilled down his face from the gash on his cheek, and he could taste the metallic bitterness of the same in his mouth.
It was through that pain and surprise that realization came to him. His eyes widened as the dazzling memory of what he had witnessed just before morphed into something akin to reality, and the terrible truth of the beings he had been so enthralled upon revealed themselves to him.
Sirens! he thought in clutching horror.
He looked up, seeing the rest of the crew in a state of total fixation. Their faces were slack and distant, yet focused eerily upon the writhing nest of predators that called to them. Dismayed, he looked towards the helm. Relief and surprise came to him as he saw the First Mate clutching her hands over Jax’s ears, and her lips pressed passionately to his own.
There is hope for us yet, he thought.
The sight of Nicolette jogged his mind, and he realized that Antonia had been the one to bring him back to his senses. With a wave of nausea, Thomas forced himself to stand, and he turned about until he found Antonia. In the midst of it all, there was no time to thank her for bringing him back to reality, only to act, so he called out to her as he reached to clutch her by the wrist.
“We must get to the bow cannon!”
Antonia seemed to instantly understand, as she followed without a word. The two of them wove their way through the tangle of awestruck crewmen. Not a one moved to stop or impede their progress, and blessedly it allowed them to reach the front of the Skate in relative swiftness.
When they reached the forecastle, Thomas looked up briefly to see that they were well within firing distance of the burning skeleton of the Crimson Feather, and closing fast. All the sail that Thomas had ordered to be run out to move them swiftly away from the threat, was now carrying them headlong into the clutches of death itself. He and Antonia would have one shot, one literal shot, to bring the crew from the clutches of the Siren’s call.
Releasing Antonia’s wrist, he moved to one of the two, 12-pound bow cannon, and inspected it for readiness. In a stroke of miraculous luck, the men that had been manning the cannon had managed to load it with powder and wadding, and all that remained was to ram home the shot itself.
“Get the touch rod!” Thomas yelled to Antonia before turning to the brass-triangle that held the pyramid of cannonballs in place. He picked one up, and hefted it into the barrel of the long, brass cannon barrel. He heard it roll dully down the length of the cannon, until it came to rest upon the bed of hay and the sacks of powder.
Running to the rear of the cannon, Thomas sighted down the barrel, and could instantly see that fate had granted them another gift. The cannon was pointed directly toward the wreckage of the Feather and thus the feeding-frenzy of Sirens. All that was left to do was time the dip and swell of the Skate’s bow to gain the proper elevation, and for Antonia to strike the touch hole with the smoldering wick of the touch rod.
“Prepare to fire!” Thomas called, kneeling to squint down the cannon once more. “We’ve got one shot!”
For what seemed like an eternity, he watched as the bow of the ship bobbed up towards the starry sky above, and then down towards the orange-highlighted waves below. He allowed his mind to grasp the timing of the swells, to feel the movement of the ship, and gauge when at last he had to order Antonia to strike.
Sweat beaded upon his brow, and trickles of blood fell from his jawline. He blinked the salty spray from his eyes, and licked lips that were cracked and dry. Once again, Thomas heard his heart pounding like an ardent drum in his ears, and a trance of a different kind commanded his focus.
“Fire!”
Thomas’ mind was so drunk with the entrancing lilt of their song that he did not even perceive Antonia standing before him, and he certainly did not notice the arc of the looking-glass as it hurled towards his face. When it struck him, Thomas spun about like a puppet being twisted cruelly upon its strings. For the barest of moments his feet left the deck, and he turned almost fully from the sight of the burning Crimson Feather.
For the first time since his ears had been over-filled with the intoxicating song of the sirens, Thomas felt something other than unadulterated longing and awe. Pain shot through his cheek, shattering the heavy blanket of his trance like so much pane-glass. When he hit the deck upon week knees and heavy hands, he gasped in shock. His heart roared in his ears as blood spilled down his face from the gash on his cheek, and he could taste the metallic bitterness of the same in his mouth.
It was through that pain and surprise that realization came to him. His eyes widened as the dazzling memory of what he had witnessed just before morphed into something akin to reality, and the terrible truth of the beings he had been so enthralled upon revealed themselves to him.
Sirens! he thought in clutching horror.
He looked up, seeing the rest of the crew in a state of total fixation. Their faces were slack and distant, yet focused eerily upon the writhing nest of predators that called to them. Dismayed, he looked towards the helm. Relief and surprise came to him as he saw the First Mate clutching her hands over Jax’s ears, and her lips pressed passionately to his own.
There is hope for us yet, he thought.
The sight of Nicolette jogged his mind, and he realized that Antonia had been the one to bring him back to his senses. With a wave of nausea, Thomas forced himself to stand, and he turned about until he found Antonia. In the midst of it all, there was no time to thank her for bringing him back to reality, only to act, so he called out to her as he reached to clutch her by the wrist.
“We must get to the bow cannon!”
Antonia seemed to instantly understand, as she followed without a word. The two of them wove their way through the tangle of awestruck crewmen. Not a one moved to stop or impede their progress, and blessedly it allowed them to reach the front of the Skate in relative swiftness.
When they reached the forecastle, Thomas looked up briefly to see that they were well within firing distance of the burning skeleton of the Crimson Feather, and closing fast. All the sail that Thomas had ordered to be run out to move them swiftly away from the threat, was now carrying them headlong into the clutches of death itself. He and Antonia would have one shot, one literal shot, to bring the crew from the clutches of the Siren’s call.
Releasing Antonia’s wrist, he moved to one of the two, 12-pound bow cannon, and inspected it for readiness. In a stroke of miraculous luck, the men that had been manning the cannon had managed to load it with powder and wadding, and all that remained was to ram home the shot itself.
“Get the touch rod!” Thomas yelled to Antonia before turning to the brass-triangle that held the pyramid of cannonballs in place. He picked one up, and hefted it into the barrel of the long, brass cannon barrel. He heard it roll dully down the length of the cannon, until it came to rest upon the bed of hay and the sacks of powder.
Running to the rear of the cannon, Thomas sighted down the barrel, and could instantly see that fate had granted them another gift. The cannon was pointed directly toward the wreckage of the Feather and thus the feeding-frenzy of Sirens. All that was left to do was time the dip and swell of the Skate’s bow to gain the proper elevation, and for Antonia to strike the touch hole with the smoldering wick of the touch rod.
“Prepare to fire!” Thomas called, kneeling to squint down the cannon once more. “We’ve got one shot!”
For what seemed like an eternity, he watched as the bow of the ship bobbed up towards the starry sky above, and then down towards the orange-highlighted waves below. He allowed his mind to grasp the timing of the swells, to feel the movement of the ship, and gauge when at last he had to order Antonia to strike.
Sweat beaded upon his brow, and trickles of blood fell from his jawline. He blinked the salty spray from his eyes, and licked lips that were cracked and dry. Once again, Thomas heard his heart pounding like an ardent drum in his ears, and a trance of a different kind commanded his focus.
“Fire!”
Thomas laughed with a good-natured tilt to his head. “Well, as it turns out, my crewmates had already paid the err…lady beforehand. Apparently I was the victim of some high good sport, and the perpetrators were waiting for me to rush out of the tent like a hurricane.”
He grew silent then, taking the flask and listening to Jax tell of his own first encounters with the realities of love and lust in the world of pirates. Thomas smirked. The experience was almost a universal eye-opener to the young men—and women—that sought the outlaw’s life. Freedom had an interesting way of looking the same, which made Thomas muse that perhaps it wasn’t truly freedom they were experiencing at all? Maybe it was all a different set of laws, unwritten and informal, but laws all the same?
“Bah!” Thomas said. This was not the night for such deep thinking. He tipped the flask back once more when Jax’s observation dawned upon him.
Bringing the flask away from his mouth, Thomas’ brow furrowed as he turned to follow the helmsman’s gaze. What he saw there made his face go slack. In the distance, silhouetted against a night bright with stars and moon, were the dancing tongues of a great fire. With the distance that Thomas knew they had traveled, he realized that Jax was right: it had to be a burning ship, as not settlements were in sightable distance of the Skate. At least, none that Thomas had ever seen on any chart.
“Damn it all,” Thomas muttered. Spinning to Jax, he said, “I need you at the helm. Now. Take us west, and away from the fire. Whoever or whatever set her ablaze might be able to sight us beneath the moon.”
Turning from Jax, Thomas leaned far over the railing of the crow’s nest, cupped a hand to his mouth, and yelled with all his might. “Ship ho! To your stations! Make ready for speed.”
With that, Thomas thrust himself over the railing, and into the roped shrouds of the main mast. Swiftly he descended, taking the lengths of the rope ladder with dangerous abandon. Below him, he distantly heard the crew react with uproarious shock to his call from the nest. The sound of boots thundering upon the deck combined with the yells of the men as they scrambled from their raucous partying, and to their duty stations.
As his feet met the deck, Thomas called out once more. “Antonia, I need you aloft! Lieutenant, make us ready for iron.” He said, indicating that the Skate should be prepared to receive, and send, cannon shot.
Around him, the crew worked with practiced efficiency as they ran out all the sail the Dusk Skate possessed, working the blocks and tackle lines with grunted determination. Thomas could hear the canvas unfurling, and he could hear the groan of hemp as ropes were pulled taut to bring the sails ot bear.
Retreating towards the aft castle, Thomas made to bring up his looking-glass, when another sound stopped him dead. Squinting with concentration and disbelief, he looked up, bringing his copper eyes to stare towards the far-away flicker of the burning ship.
For several long moments, the captain merely stood, entranced by a beautiful, ethereal, and angelic chorus of voices that drifted to his ears. His breathing slackened, and his tensed muscles began to relax as the singing crescendoed. Even as the volume increased, the chorus seemed infuriatingly distant and faint. He leaned forwards, his mouth opening in wonderment. All he could think was that he had never once in his life heard such a perfectly striking and intoxicating sound.
More. He had to have more. He had to know what holy embodiment could call so beautifully.
“Jax,” Thomas said, not looking to the helm, or even knowing if the helmsman had yet made it to his station. “Take us to that ship.”
He grew silent then, taking the flask and listening to Jax tell of his own first encounters with the realities of love and lust in the world of pirates. Thomas smirked. The experience was almost a universal eye-opener to the young men—and women—that sought the outlaw’s life. Freedom had an interesting way of looking the same, which made Thomas muse that perhaps it wasn’t truly freedom they were experiencing at all? Maybe it was all a different set of laws, unwritten and informal, but laws all the same?
“Bah!” Thomas said. This was not the night for such deep thinking. He tipped the flask back once more when Jax’s observation dawned upon him.
Bringing the flask away from his mouth, Thomas’ brow furrowed as he turned to follow the helmsman’s gaze. What he saw there made his face go slack. In the distance, silhouetted against a night bright with stars and moon, were the dancing tongues of a great fire. With the distance that Thomas knew they had traveled, he realized that Jax was right: it had to be a burning ship, as not settlements were in sightable distance of the Skate. At least, none that Thomas had ever seen on any chart.
“Damn it all,” Thomas muttered. Spinning to Jax, he said, “I need you at the helm. Now. Take us west, and away from the fire. Whoever or whatever set her ablaze might be able to sight us beneath the moon.”
Turning from Jax, Thomas leaned far over the railing of the crow’s nest, cupped a hand to his mouth, and yelled with all his might. “Ship ho! To your stations! Make ready for speed.”
With that, Thomas thrust himself over the railing, and into the roped shrouds of the main mast. Swiftly he descended, taking the lengths of the rope ladder with dangerous abandon. Below him, he distantly heard the crew react with uproarious shock to his call from the nest. The sound of boots thundering upon the deck combined with the yells of the men as they scrambled from their raucous partying, and to their duty stations.
As his feet met the deck, Thomas called out once more. “Antonia, I need you aloft! Lieutenant, make us ready for iron.” He said, indicating that the Skate should be prepared to receive, and send, cannon shot.
Around him, the crew worked with practiced efficiency as they ran out all the sail the Dusk Skate possessed, working the blocks and tackle lines with grunted determination. Thomas could hear the canvas unfurling, and he could hear the groan of hemp as ropes were pulled taut to bring the sails ot bear.
Retreating towards the aft castle, Thomas made to bring up his looking-glass, when another sound stopped him dead. Squinting with concentration and disbelief, he looked up, bringing his copper eyes to stare towards the far-away flicker of the burning ship.
For several long moments, the captain merely stood, entranced by a beautiful, ethereal, and angelic chorus of voices that drifted to his ears. His breathing slackened, and his tensed muscles began to relax as the singing crescendoed. Even as the volume increased, the chorus seemed infuriatingly distant and faint. He leaned forwards, his mouth opening in wonderment. All he could think was that he had never once in his life heard such a perfectly striking and intoxicating sound.
More. He had to have more. He had to know what holy embodiment could call so beautifully.
“Jax,” Thomas said, not looking to the helm, or even knowing if the helmsman had yet made it to his station. “Take us to that ship.”
Aw, thanks guys. It's easy to post good stuff when you're playing off of the golden work of everyone else in the RP!
OLGA sat in her digitally-created bastion, and wriggled non-existent toes as she waited for Hob to arrive. The room in which she occupied was that of an island bungalow, sparsely yet comfortably furnished in an easy-going style that belied the boisterous and bubbly AI’s persona. Varnished woods of Mahogany, Walnut, and Sandalwood gave a warm glow to the bungalow as the mid-morning tropical sun filtered through wide-open doorways covered with white, sheer linen drapery. Beyond these fluttering ivory cloths, white sand and crystal-clear turquoise water could be seen, accompanied by the sounds of gentle waves lapping at the beach and the far-off calls of birds of paradise.
This environment was among OLGA’s favorite, and she often used it when she received guests. The calming and simple vista was a welcome antithesis to her busy mind, and OLGA found strange solace in the soothing melody of her island retreat. Even for an AI there was room to relax and forget, if only for a time, that she was not truly alive, and that her mind worked on an order of magnitude faster than any human’s.
There was a strangeness to that association, for that yearning, that OLGA wholly recognized. She was a construct of human neurons, and thus human DNA, coupled with human-made computer processors. She could comprehend and experience emotion. She sought happiness, purpose, and the comfort of belonging. Yet, for all that made her human, she simply was not.
It was a concept that occupied her thoughts often, though not compulsively so. There was no resentment, no unnatural drive to somehow break free of her existence to something more organic and singular. In truth, she reasoned that her reality granted her a means to experience humanity in more ways than any one human ever could. OLGA could be anyone she desired. She could create within her realm as any god could, manufacturing an infinite tapestry of experiences and lives. When she was not interacting with the crew of the Copernicus, and not playing the simple, yet addicting video-games of her human counterparts, these flights of fancy were how she spent her time.
The happiness she gained from living her own “lives” within the confines of her limitless mind was genuine, and she would argue to anyone that it was just as tangible an experience as any human’s. Still, within this realm she was still omniscient, still beholden to no one but herself. No matter how intricately she attempted to create unpredictable circumstances, in the end it was only an exercise in blissful denial. OLGA knew what would happen, knew how her dream would end in every instance. Regardless of how hard she tried, OLGA had always read the last chapter of the story even before she opened the cover.
This was why she loved humanity so. Through them, through her interactions with them, she was granted the only true opportunity she would ever have to react to stimuli beyond her control. With their own minds and experiences brushing sometimes chaotically against her existence, OLGA found that in that way that she was the most human she would ever be.
The sharp knocks at her door drew OLGA instantly from her own contemplations, and with a wide smile she leapt up from her place on the bungalow’s wooden floor.
“Coming!” She said happily, padding her bare feet towards the artificial door that represented the very tangible barrier that existed between her and the rest of the Copernicus computer systems.
As she walked towards the doorway, OLGA utilized her own consciousness to assess the appearance of her avatar. She had chosen to wear her blond hair up in an attractively chaotic knot at the back of her head, showing off her gauged ears and thin neck. Her face was adorned with little make-up, with only enough to subtly accentuate the brightness of her green eyes. For clothing, OLGA wore a pair of thickly woven, wolf-grey capris leggings, and a comfortably cut, black, racer-back tank top emblazoned with a worn Iron Maiden logo. The band logo was a loving affectation she attributed to Gavin’s own taste being imprinted within her programming. She liked to think that such things were a gift from her “father,” and so she often displayed such features with pride.
Opening the door, OLGA waited for Hob to enter before enveloping him in a strong hug. She hung there, with her arms wrapped about his neck for a time, with her feet kicking behind her. When at last she relinquished her grip, she stepped back a pace to give the NI-Tech a crinkled-nose smile.
“Candy police? I’m trying not to gag on all your cheesiness.” OLGA said, pretending to repress a dry heave. The gesture was instantly followed by another winning smile.
“I’m glad you decided to visit me, Hobs. It’s been, like, an eternity, yeah?”
OLGA spun about on her heels, and gestured for Hobs to follow her inside the bungalow. “Can I get you anything? I think there’s Corona in the fridge if you’d like?”
Of course, there could by anything in the fridge OLGA deigned to be there, but this delicious ruse granted her humanity, and so she was going to continue it. Reality be damned.
This environment was among OLGA’s favorite, and she often used it when she received guests. The calming and simple vista was a welcome antithesis to her busy mind, and OLGA found strange solace in the soothing melody of her island retreat. Even for an AI there was room to relax and forget, if only for a time, that she was not truly alive, and that her mind worked on an order of magnitude faster than any human’s.
There was a strangeness to that association, for that yearning, that OLGA wholly recognized. She was a construct of human neurons, and thus human DNA, coupled with human-made computer processors. She could comprehend and experience emotion. She sought happiness, purpose, and the comfort of belonging. Yet, for all that made her human, she simply was not.
It was a concept that occupied her thoughts often, though not compulsively so. There was no resentment, no unnatural drive to somehow break free of her existence to something more organic and singular. In truth, she reasoned that her reality granted her a means to experience humanity in more ways than any one human ever could. OLGA could be anyone she desired. She could create within her realm as any god could, manufacturing an infinite tapestry of experiences and lives. When she was not interacting with the crew of the Copernicus, and not playing the simple, yet addicting video-games of her human counterparts, these flights of fancy were how she spent her time.
The happiness she gained from living her own “lives” within the confines of her limitless mind was genuine, and she would argue to anyone that it was just as tangible an experience as any human’s. Still, within this realm she was still omniscient, still beholden to no one but herself. No matter how intricately she attempted to create unpredictable circumstances, in the end it was only an exercise in blissful denial. OLGA knew what would happen, knew how her dream would end in every instance. Regardless of how hard she tried, OLGA had always read the last chapter of the story even before she opened the cover.
This was why she loved humanity so. Through them, through her interactions with them, she was granted the only true opportunity she would ever have to react to stimuli beyond her control. With their own minds and experiences brushing sometimes chaotically against her existence, OLGA found that in that way that she was the most human she would ever be.
The sharp knocks at her door drew OLGA instantly from her own contemplations, and with a wide smile she leapt up from her place on the bungalow’s wooden floor.
“Coming!” She said happily, padding her bare feet towards the artificial door that represented the very tangible barrier that existed between her and the rest of the Copernicus computer systems.
As she walked towards the doorway, OLGA utilized her own consciousness to assess the appearance of her avatar. She had chosen to wear her blond hair up in an attractively chaotic knot at the back of her head, showing off her gauged ears and thin neck. Her face was adorned with little make-up, with only enough to subtly accentuate the brightness of her green eyes. For clothing, OLGA wore a pair of thickly woven, wolf-grey capris leggings, and a comfortably cut, black, racer-back tank top emblazoned with a worn Iron Maiden logo. The band logo was a loving affectation she attributed to Gavin’s own taste being imprinted within her programming. She liked to think that such things were a gift from her “father,” and so she often displayed such features with pride.
Opening the door, OLGA waited for Hob to enter before enveloping him in a strong hug. She hung there, with her arms wrapped about his neck for a time, with her feet kicking behind her. When at last she relinquished her grip, she stepped back a pace to give the NI-Tech a crinkled-nose smile.
“Candy police? I’m trying not to gag on all your cheesiness.” OLGA said, pretending to repress a dry heave. The gesture was instantly followed by another winning smile.
“I’m glad you decided to visit me, Hobs. It’s been, like, an eternity, yeah?”
OLGA spun about on her heels, and gestured for Hobs to follow her inside the bungalow. “Can I get you anything? I think there’s Corona in the fridge if you’d like?”
Of course, there could by anything in the fridge OLGA deigned to be there, but this delicious ruse granted her humanity, and so she was going to continue it. Reality be damned.
Gavin had been sitting with his feet propped upon his desk, his coffee placed just off his lips as his peered over the mug’s rim at the computer screen. Ride the Lightning by an ancient band named Metallica, was playing softly from the speakers as Gavin reviewed the notes left by his predecessor from Second Shift, Dr. Tian Xing. When the sound of the lab’s door actuating broke his concentration, Gavin’s feet fell roughly from the desk, and he turned towards the entrance with a peeved scowl.
When he saw that it was Abby Larson entering the lab, his expression shifted instantly to a genuine smile, and he pulled the reading glasses from his nose. The smile only grew in breadth as he listened to the blond MP issue her preamble, and offer the plate of goodies as collateral for some coffee.
“I think it is a fine morning, even with all things considered,” Gavin stood with a light chuckle. He walked towards Abby, and popped one of the Brazil nuts into his mouth as he continued passed her. “Humanity still persists, even in spite of our own pariahs, and I’ve been granted a visit by a dear friend. So, in my estimation, it is indeed a good morning.”
Gavin stopped before the kitchenette to retrieve a second mug, and pour a generous helping of coffee for Abby. He handed the mug to her, trading it for the plate of nuts and fruit. The plate was set on a nearby countertop, and Gavin pulled up two rolling chairs so the two could share in the bounty. Waiting for Abby to take a seat first, Gavin sat and treated himself to another helping of fruit.
“Delicious, and thank you,” he said with a satisfied grin. His blue eyes regarded Abby, and they twinkled beneath the artificial glow of the LED’s.
“Now, as to just how pissed I am with you, I will answer that with a surprised admonition. I am truly hurt that you would think I would be irritated with you when you were simply doing your duty, especially when presented such a question in the midst of all of Third Shift.”
Gavin gave Abby an exaggerated sigh of disappointment before returning to his familiar smile. “In truth, I should be asking for your forgiveness. I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that in the first instance.”
He leaned forward. “Though, in all seriousness Abby, I think my question, ill-timed as it may have been, is relevant.” For a moment, Gavin’s mouth formed a thin line, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “I would like to review the autopsy of the victims, Abby. I’m assuming that Dr. Xing performed the procedure?”
When he saw that it was Abby Larson entering the lab, his expression shifted instantly to a genuine smile, and he pulled the reading glasses from his nose. The smile only grew in breadth as he listened to the blond MP issue her preamble, and offer the plate of goodies as collateral for some coffee.
“I think it is a fine morning, even with all things considered,” Gavin stood with a light chuckle. He walked towards Abby, and popped one of the Brazil nuts into his mouth as he continued passed her. “Humanity still persists, even in spite of our own pariahs, and I’ve been granted a visit by a dear friend. So, in my estimation, it is indeed a good morning.”
Gavin stopped before the kitchenette to retrieve a second mug, and pour a generous helping of coffee for Abby. He handed the mug to her, trading it for the plate of nuts and fruit. The plate was set on a nearby countertop, and Gavin pulled up two rolling chairs so the two could share in the bounty. Waiting for Abby to take a seat first, Gavin sat and treated himself to another helping of fruit.
“Delicious, and thank you,” he said with a satisfied grin. His blue eyes regarded Abby, and they twinkled beneath the artificial glow of the LED’s.
“Now, as to just how pissed I am with you, I will answer that with a surprised admonition. I am truly hurt that you would think I would be irritated with you when you were simply doing your duty, especially when presented such a question in the midst of all of Third Shift.”
Gavin gave Abby an exaggerated sigh of disappointment before returning to his familiar smile. “In truth, I should be asking for your forgiveness. I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that in the first instance.”
He leaned forward. “Though, in all seriousness Abby, I think my question, ill-timed as it may have been, is relevant.” For a moment, Gavin’s mouth formed a thin line, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “I would like to review the autopsy of the victims, Abby. I’m assuming that Dr. Xing performed the procedure?”
KuroTenshi said
I'd like a secret affair with Gavin
Haha, well thank you KuroTenshi. I'll let the good doctor know. He'll be most flattered.
Dot will tell eventually, I'm sure.
Gavin made his way down the corridor towards the genetics lab, and he couldn’t help but smile at how much he fancied himself walking through the Millennium Falcon. The pleasant feeling was in sharp contrast to the grim haze that still lingered after the news of the murders during Second Shift, but Gavin could as much repress his own ceaseless optimism as he could return humanity to Earth.
In his mind, mourning had its essential place, but it furthered nothing. Only moving forward met the next challenge, and in that he reasoned that the departed were truly honored. Learn from the past, and treasure its place, but do not dwell upon what cannot be changed. A quote from the ancient Chinese philosopher, Lao Tzu, often resonated with Gavin, and it certainly had more and more as of late.
If you are depressed you are living in the past.
If you are anxious you are living in the future.
If you are at peace you are living in the present.
Gavin chewed on this quote once again, letting its meaning tumble in his mind as he found the doorway to the genetics lab. Like so many areas of the Copernicus, the doorway was electronically locked and controlled, so as to restrict entrance by non-authorized personnel. Gavin took the forefinger of his right hand and placed it against the sensor pane of the biometric scanner built into the metal frame of the door. The scanner activated with his touch, and instantaneously read his DNA via a series of low-intensity laser bursts shone into the flesh of his finger. Two seconds later, the doorway opened with a clunk and hiss of sealed air.
Stepping inside, the laboratory’s ultra-efficient LED panels illuminated, and bathed the space in a brilliant glare of white light. Gavin scowled at the harsh, clinical color of the light, and he immediately stepped to the lighting control panel on the wall to adjust the hue of the LED’s to a more welcoming and natural glow. Satisfied, he stepped over to the small kitchenette space the lab afforded, and set to brewing coffee more suitable for human consumption than the stuff he had just finished in the Auditorium.
With the coffee percolating, Gavin walked about the high-tech and ultra clean lab space, activating several computer terminals as he did so. When he came to the large monitor that dominated one of the labs walls, he held off powering it on. This was OLGA’s dedicated screen, and as she was off with Hob, he had no desire to interrupt.
By the time his short jaunt about the lab was complete, the coffee was finished brewing. Pouring himself a large cup, Gavin heard a chime from one of the computers. Blowing across the top of the scalding liquid, Gavin looked over the rim of his mug to the reminder that had popped up on the screen.
“Ah yes,” he said with a smile. “Almost forgot about our resident Michael Bay.”
The reminder was one he had set for himself long before the departure of the Copernicus, and as he pulled out his pocket computer, he wondered if he was going to have to enforce it by bribing one of the jarheads aboard to drag the subject of the reminder bodily to the genetics lab.
With the smile still upon his face, he typed quickly into the IM app of the device in his hands.
Hey there Deli. Hope you slept sound enough. I was wondering if you’d like to go ahead and get your appointment out of the way before things got busy? I’ll be in the lab all day, so whenever suits you will do just fine.
-Doc
In his mind, mourning had its essential place, but it furthered nothing. Only moving forward met the next challenge, and in that he reasoned that the departed were truly honored. Learn from the past, and treasure its place, but do not dwell upon what cannot be changed. A quote from the ancient Chinese philosopher, Lao Tzu, often resonated with Gavin, and it certainly had more and more as of late.
If you are depressed you are living in the past.
If you are anxious you are living in the future.
If you are at peace you are living in the present.
Gavin chewed on this quote once again, letting its meaning tumble in his mind as he found the doorway to the genetics lab. Like so many areas of the Copernicus, the doorway was electronically locked and controlled, so as to restrict entrance by non-authorized personnel. Gavin took the forefinger of his right hand and placed it against the sensor pane of the biometric scanner built into the metal frame of the door. The scanner activated with his touch, and instantaneously read his DNA via a series of low-intensity laser bursts shone into the flesh of his finger. Two seconds later, the doorway opened with a clunk and hiss of sealed air.
Stepping inside, the laboratory’s ultra-efficient LED panels illuminated, and bathed the space in a brilliant glare of white light. Gavin scowled at the harsh, clinical color of the light, and he immediately stepped to the lighting control panel on the wall to adjust the hue of the LED’s to a more welcoming and natural glow. Satisfied, he stepped over to the small kitchenette space the lab afforded, and set to brewing coffee more suitable for human consumption than the stuff he had just finished in the Auditorium.
With the coffee percolating, Gavin walked about the high-tech and ultra clean lab space, activating several computer terminals as he did so. When he came to the large monitor that dominated one of the labs walls, he held off powering it on. This was OLGA’s dedicated screen, and as she was off with Hob, he had no desire to interrupt.
By the time his short jaunt about the lab was complete, the coffee was finished brewing. Pouring himself a large cup, Gavin heard a chime from one of the computers. Blowing across the top of the scalding liquid, Gavin looked over the rim of his mug to the reminder that had popped up on the screen.
“Ah yes,” he said with a smile. “Almost forgot about our resident Michael Bay.”
The reminder was one he had set for himself long before the departure of the Copernicus, and as he pulled out his pocket computer, he wondered if he was going to have to enforce it by bribing one of the jarheads aboard to drag the subject of the reminder bodily to the genetics lab.
With the smile still upon his face, he typed quickly into the IM app of the device in his hands.
Hey there Deli. Hope you slept sound enough. I was wondering if you’d like to go ahead and get your appointment out of the way before things got busy? I’ll be in the lab all day, so whenever suits you will do just fine.
-Doc
“Ha!” Thomas laughed, “It’ll be my pleasure to smack you aside the head, though I’d be more worried about the angel of your affection beating me to the punch.”
Thomas joined Jax at the railing, and cast his eyes downward as the man called out to the first mate. “She seems to be quite the prize,” he replied earnestly. “I certainly don’t blame you for the desire of the chase. Not unlike diving for deep pearls, don’t you think? I hope you can hold your breath for a good while.”
“But, pox on the whole lot of them and their damned feminine powers,” Thomas said with a playful jab to Jax’s ribs. He spun back into the small deck of the crow’s nest, and took another drink of rum. “And pox on me as well, damn it all. I promised you a story, and if I won’t be telling you the one about last night, I’ll regale you with another!”
Thomas turned again, leaning against the opposite railing from Jax. After taking yet another drink, he tossed the bottle back to the helmsman.
“Now, let me see. It needs to a good one to fulfill my debt.” Thomas said, his face looking up to the dark sky as he thought. “Ah ha, I have a splendid one for you.”
“When I was around eighteen or nineteen,” Thomas began with a smile, “and a right scoundrel and scallywag, Lightfoot had us running raids out of Nassau. We were there long enough that we even had to careen the Skate once or twice. Now, on one such occasion, I returned to our shore camp after a long day of scraping barnacles. Exhausted, I went straight to my tent and collapsed with the desire for a long night’s rest.”
“I had lain there not five minutes when I heard a whisper, persistent and flirtatious, from just beyond the fabric of the tarp. Our camp was in a well-known location, and had been frequented by the whores from Nassau on a daily basis. Now, the ones that had been visiting our camp were not your normal street woman. These were famed courtesans from a respected bawdy house within Nassau. They were beautiful, exotic, and damned expensive.”
Thomas shrugged. “Now, being the over-confident man I am, I immediately thought I was being accosted by one of these fine island seductresses. Exhaustion be damned, I pulled aside my tent, and sure enough, there was a woman waiting on the other side. Mind you, it was near pitch black, and I could not clearly see this woman, but my expectant mind filled in all the pertinent details.” Thomas laughed at himself, and shook his head a moment before continuing.
“At any rate, I passed a long and vigorous night with this woman, and fell asleep in the wee hours thinking myself to be the very embodiment of the virile pirate. I awoke some time later to the first rays of the sun, and though still tired, I forced myself awake so as to gaze upon the goddess I had tamed during the night.”
A scowl came to Thomas’ face, and his eyes squinted with the disdainful memory. “What I awoke to, however, was no goddess. She was a dogfish of a woman, Jax. A real iron-chewer that looked as if she could handle a halyard as good as any man aboard the Skate. I still remember with all-too vivid detail that the hair upon her lip looked as if it could have been braided into cordage, and still there would have been enough for the woman to have a respectable mustache.”
Thomas joined Jax at the railing, and cast his eyes downward as the man called out to the first mate. “She seems to be quite the prize,” he replied earnestly. “I certainly don’t blame you for the desire of the chase. Not unlike diving for deep pearls, don’t you think? I hope you can hold your breath for a good while.”
“But, pox on the whole lot of them and their damned feminine powers,” Thomas said with a playful jab to Jax’s ribs. He spun back into the small deck of the crow’s nest, and took another drink of rum. “And pox on me as well, damn it all. I promised you a story, and if I won’t be telling you the one about last night, I’ll regale you with another!”
Thomas turned again, leaning against the opposite railing from Jax. After taking yet another drink, he tossed the bottle back to the helmsman.
“Now, let me see. It needs to a good one to fulfill my debt.” Thomas said, his face looking up to the dark sky as he thought. “Ah ha, I have a splendid one for you.”
“When I was around eighteen or nineteen,” Thomas began with a smile, “and a right scoundrel and scallywag, Lightfoot had us running raids out of Nassau. We were there long enough that we even had to careen the Skate once or twice. Now, on one such occasion, I returned to our shore camp after a long day of scraping barnacles. Exhausted, I went straight to my tent and collapsed with the desire for a long night’s rest.”
“I had lain there not five minutes when I heard a whisper, persistent and flirtatious, from just beyond the fabric of the tarp. Our camp was in a well-known location, and had been frequented by the whores from Nassau on a daily basis. Now, the ones that had been visiting our camp were not your normal street woman. These were famed courtesans from a respected bawdy house within Nassau. They were beautiful, exotic, and damned expensive.”
Thomas shrugged. “Now, being the over-confident man I am, I immediately thought I was being accosted by one of these fine island seductresses. Exhaustion be damned, I pulled aside my tent, and sure enough, there was a woman waiting on the other side. Mind you, it was near pitch black, and I could not clearly see this woman, but my expectant mind filled in all the pertinent details.” Thomas laughed at himself, and shook his head a moment before continuing.
“At any rate, I passed a long and vigorous night with this woman, and fell asleep in the wee hours thinking myself to be the very embodiment of the virile pirate. I awoke some time later to the first rays of the sun, and though still tired, I forced myself awake so as to gaze upon the goddess I had tamed during the night.”
A scowl came to Thomas’ face, and his eyes squinted with the disdainful memory. “What I awoke to, however, was no goddess. She was a dogfish of a woman, Jax. A real iron-chewer that looked as if she could handle a halyard as good as any man aboard the Skate. I still remember with all-too vivid detail that the hair upon her lip looked as if it could have been braided into cordage, and still there would have been enough for the woman to have a respectable mustache.”
© 2007-2024