Galina turned to catch Souma's gaze, nodding meaningfully to tell him she understood his words, his analogy of culture and gardens. The laughter that had bubbled up when he sounded so exasperated with her, when he claimed no one would bring weapons to the tea room - as if she were a small child much in need of lessons on the basics of just how the world worked? That laughter was cut short, brief for the sake of necessity and died swiftly in the sunshine of the Takahiro gardens.
"I could see this thing in you, this wanting to see 'more' in the world, and then even more after that, as if only whetting the appetite. There is never an end to the wait, is there? The anticipation of what might be just beyond that next corner, the next bend in the road. I imagine this is why you are so very good at what you do, and how your family becomes so very prosperous, even in your absence."
Galina spoke nothing of her intimate knowledge of just how prosperous the Takahiro clan had become. She could truly see no need - Souma could guess on his own for the moment, just how familiar she truly was with his family's business, and would know without the least doubt for himself soon enough.
And so the young woman's unmatched musical voice continued with the smaller talk of the moment, by all appearances to any who witnessed, simply the demure, lovely young Western woman who had charmed them all walking with the brilliant, skillful heir of the Takahiro clan. "We have many gardens in Russia," Galina continued easily, "Many kinds of gardens, from the humble, fruitful dacha gardens of the common men, to the spectacular, formal Russian Imperial gardens. We too have gardens on the Demidov estates, though they are now a touch... Difficult to traverse."
"To please my mama, Papa had acres of formal gardens created, for no other reason than to see her smile, and have her feel at home in this new land he brought her too - Papa loved her very much. There were hedge mazes and blind ends, secret lovers' groves, resting benches for the weary - even fountains with clear drinking water for thirsty travelers."
The young woman's dark gaze traversed the walkways once more, gaining a feeling for where this walk might end, where Souma would - of course - be expecting far more than pleasant words to pass the time. "But after my mama died, Papa let all her gardens run wild, and return to the old growth from whence those grounds were wrested. Still, it remains quite beautiful and terrible, all at once. Bear and wolf prowl among the deer once more, in the shadows of stone statues and the ruins of trellis and arbor."
Galina laughed softly to herself. "When I was very little, Papa used to say the wolves in mama's gardens howled to sing her babies to sleep in the night. It was... Strangely comforting. I miss them dearly."
"The gardens here are also comforting as well," she continued, nodding toward one simple bamboo fountain, cleverly built to time the fall of the water just so when a counterbalance was filled, adding a watery musical rhythm to their walk. "But so very differently. Your gardens do not protect you, or watch over you in your troubles like a mother protecting her brood. Here, I can see your gardens wanting to take the hand of a passerby, to invite him to sit and listen and be taught the secret things of this world that whisper and do not shout."
"We have some moments yet Souma," Galina said, using the familiar form of his name as he had seen fit to do with her own. "Tell me, have you yet found a favored garden of culture in the New World? What have you found there to delight you?"
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KuroTenshi said
Oooouch Idle Thank you for playing through the pain
Indeed - please take care of your poor hand hon.
And your Henry post - good grief, I was squirming with his awful discomfort >< Wonderful, discomfiting, squirmy - hallmarks of good writing? XD
See? Mike's gonna notice, and pissed off devil dogs are just a serious pain in the ass. He'll like, shoot someone in the face while he jams to 2Pac or something. So not worth not making the guy's space suit!
eta: the guy's SPACE MARINE! armor exo-skeleton suit of amazing!!!*
eta: the guy's SPACE MARINE! armor exo-skeleton suit of amazing!!!*
Hey, you asked for a nicer way to say it Kuro! I was trying to find one, but you dragged it right back to "he's too smart for all that," so don't blame me! 
And now really, don't you think among this relatively small crew, someone gone missing might be noticed?
And now really, don't you think among this relatively small crew, someone gone missing might be noticed?
*high fives Lil* 
Perhaps, Conner is too analytical and linear a thinker to be an NI Tech, hmm?
Perhaps, Conner is too analytical and linear a thinker to be an NI Tech, hmm?
KuroTenshi said
Isn't he too intelligent for it?
o.o... Ooooooooooooo burn!
Actually Dot, if you're referring to Pauline? I think she'd absolutely love to talk to Park, particularly when she realizes he's a pastor. No dragging into that good night and all that stuff!Awwww... thanks you Pauline is an awful lot of fun - I say we experiment with the fabric of reality eventually though, and play dangerously ;)
Oh, and Derren? That scar on Antoine's back, from neck to lower back - only a flesh wound, you say?
Pauline is an awful lot of fun - I say we experiment with the fabric of reality eventually though, and play dangerously ;)Oh, and Derren? That scar on Antoine's back, from neck to lower back - only a flesh wound, you say?
The whole world cracked open in her skull, consumed in a sheet of blinding light and searing heat in an instant of hot agony. She had no sense of the siren that wanted to devour her, nor the First Mate who saved her neck, but the fork of lightning that blasted both apart enervated every last cell in the rogue's body. Small sparks dancing across her skin like golden swamp lights for a moment before coalescing over her chest, and sinking within.
Antonia's back arced wildly, her whole body lifted feet from the deck where she lay. Her eyes opened wide as she gulped in an enormous, tortured breath into lungs suddenly opened once more, her heart pounding painfully behind her ribs. And just as quickly, she flopped to her side, gasping and helpless for a long moment, groans of pain lost in the crash of surf, the howling winds and the deafening blows of thunder.
'No no no, little sister. You cannot leave dis world... Not yet. Not while dere's still a debt to pay... ' Brother Sogba's voice laughed a wicked inferno through her head as Antonia desperately tried to pry open her eyes. She felt hands on her then, hands on her arms and shoulders, about her waist and legs. They weren't hurtful hands, not cruel or unkind but Antonia fought them anyway, weakly batting at them in protest, writhing feebly.
"Put me down... Stop. Put me down! Arrêtez! Thomas? Luc? Where... Where are they?" Antonia thrashed a bit more, feeling the grip on one calf loosen with a curse, and the heel of her boot hit the deck.
"Please sir, set her down! I'll help her... S'il vous plaît! The ones with Captain Lightfoot, they could use help, getting him to his cabin." That small voice she heard, calmed her like precious little else could in that moment, knowing Luc was fine, he was alive and well - but the words... Thomas? Help Thomas to his cabin?
She felt herself lowered to the deck, torrential rains and wind whipping around her and through her as she rolled to her stomach. The rogue pulled her knees beneath her as she unfolded her aching body to a wobbly standing position, finding just enough strength in her arms to pull Luc close, and hug him as tightly to her as she could.
And Luc returned that hug about Antonia's waist with a fierce love. He had heard the voices within his hiding spot in the hawse hole, where Jax had told him all cabin boys through the ages had ever run, and where Tante 'Tonia ordered him to go below deck. No, not the painful voices of the hideous silver-grey sea snake women, nor even the heartrending voices of the drying crew members, or Mademoiselle the First Mate, or Captain Lightfoot or even Jax.
No, he heard them, the bringers of the storm in his head. They talked to his Tante 'Tonia, though her voice was far too faint for him to make out much more than the familiar cadence and cant. And then there were screams, the human ones, and then the not-so-human ones, and still he remained obedient to the orders given, as he knew Captain Lightfoot would wish him to be.
Until, he heard the one voice again. Like an endlessly whirling wheel of the winds, a whisper and a howl, a voice still somehow substantial and ephemeral all at once, and flowing through his thoughts and his small body as if he were as well. 'Go to her, little broder. To your Antonia. She is tired, and Broder Sogba burn her bad - she cannot hear me. You tell her breade on him, and Broder Bade fill him. You tell her dis... '
Luc did not understand in the least what that voice told him to do. But he felt something lift him from the hawse hole, animate him up the stairs and hold him steady on a stormy deck that should have tossed his slight body to and fro like a rag doll. And that strength let him wrap his arm about her waist, Antonia's arm about his surprisingly steady slender shoulders as they staggered after the men carrying Thomas.
The rogue whined deep in her throat at the sight of the men with Thomas, staggered, nearly stumbled to her knees again - and would have, if Luc hadn't somehow managed to keep her upright. Antonia turned toward the First Mate as they passed, seeing her own gaze turned toward the helm, to Jax, and saw the light of relief flood those beautiful blue eyes. She could not begrudge the woman this happiness, no matter how she ached for her own. And Antonia did not look away from the golden angel of a woman until after they passed from the storm, into the relative calm of the aftcastle, to the officer's quarters.
Luc stopped short as the crew members carried their captain carefully into his room, to lay him on his bed before speaking to Antonia. Somehow he was sure, that this charge was not a thing meant for the ears of others. "Brother Bade," he said softly as his face turned up from her side, searching for his aunt's shadowed above him. "Brother Bade told me to tell you, to breathe on him. That if you did, Brother Bade would... Fill him? I don't understand... "
Antonia blinked slowly, tearing her gaze from the door to Thomas' cabin, where the men were only just leaving. She leaned down to kiss Luc's forehead softly. The rogue was still shaking, still exhausted and terrified for Thomas, though she hid it all behind the thinnest of masks for the boy's sake alone. "Luc... Thank you... The First Mate will have bandages, medicines... Go on. Bring her now... Please..." Antonia knew very well that Nicolette would be here any moment, that she wouldn't need any encouragement from Luc to hurry at all and certainly not a list of needful items to see to her own profession.
But no matter the storm water that saturated her thick locks of black hair that ran rivulets still down her face and neck - Antonia did not want the boy to see her broken, or the tears she knew she could not stop from falling.
Luc was a good boy, and did as he was told, disappearing to find Nicolette in an instant. And the moment he was gone, Antonia slipped into Thomas' quarters. Closing the door behind her, she dashed across the cabin, collapsing to her knees beside the bed they had shared only a single night before. Loving, shaking fingers gently traced the cold lines of his battered face, the bruise from a fist from the Boar still dark, the long cut on his cheek where she struck him with fist and eyepiece fresh and crimson - and she wept.
Her vision swam with tears as she tried to exam that angry bite at his side. Almost as wide as a shark's it seemed, and still bleeding dark and viscous fluids, blood mixed with some vile substance she knew instinctively she did not have the ability to right on her own. Antonia choked on her own sobs as she swiftly made to unbuckle the his pistol holsters, his belt and dagger sheaths before tearing open his ruined wet shirt, using it as best she could to gently, so carefully wipe the running blood from torn flesh.
'Breathe'
The rogue stopped in mid-stroke, looking back up to Thomas' too-still face. Slowly she leaned forward, took the deepest breath she could, tears be damned, and blew so softly across his cheek, across lips and nose until she had not the least breath left in her.
And yet, he moved not at all. Not a flicker of an eyelash. Not a twitch, or a twinge. Nothing at all...
Antonia fell back to her knees, her head dropped to her chest, defeated. She had nothing left, not an ounce of strength left to her and the rogue fell forward, her head resting against the bed's edge as she buried her face in the sheets. Something strange tugged at her hair, tickled at her temple, and her fingers reached for the side of her head.
The rogue whimpered with anguish when she saw what she pulled free.
Her Amazon lily. Her precious morning gift from Thomas. Somehow that lily had stayed plaited in her hair all this time, even sad and wilted and crushed as it had become. Antonia reached for the long, cold fingers of Thomas' hand and lay against the bed once more, placing his palm over her head, through her hair as she rested against the mattress. The fingers of one hand curled against her chest, wrapped about the lily's stem, while the other lovingly stroked the cool skin of Thomas' hand where it lay.
Antonia's back arced wildly, her whole body lifted feet from the deck where she lay. Her eyes opened wide as she gulped in an enormous, tortured breath into lungs suddenly opened once more, her heart pounding painfully behind her ribs. And just as quickly, she flopped to her side, gasping and helpless for a long moment, groans of pain lost in the crash of surf, the howling winds and the deafening blows of thunder.
'No no no, little sister. You cannot leave dis world... Not yet. Not while dere's still a debt to pay... ' Brother Sogba's voice laughed a wicked inferno through her head as Antonia desperately tried to pry open her eyes. She felt hands on her then, hands on her arms and shoulders, about her waist and legs. They weren't hurtful hands, not cruel or unkind but Antonia fought them anyway, weakly batting at them in protest, writhing feebly.
"Put me down... Stop. Put me down! Arrêtez! Thomas? Luc? Where... Where are they?" Antonia thrashed a bit more, feeling the grip on one calf loosen with a curse, and the heel of her boot hit the deck.
"Please sir, set her down! I'll help her... S'il vous plaît! The ones with Captain Lightfoot, they could use help, getting him to his cabin." That small voice she heard, calmed her like precious little else could in that moment, knowing Luc was fine, he was alive and well - but the words... Thomas? Help Thomas to his cabin?
She felt herself lowered to the deck, torrential rains and wind whipping around her and through her as she rolled to her stomach. The rogue pulled her knees beneath her as she unfolded her aching body to a wobbly standing position, finding just enough strength in her arms to pull Luc close, and hug him as tightly to her as she could.
And Luc returned that hug about Antonia's waist with a fierce love. He had heard the voices within his hiding spot in the hawse hole, where Jax had told him all cabin boys through the ages had ever run, and where Tante 'Tonia ordered him to go below deck. No, not the painful voices of the hideous silver-grey sea snake women, nor even the heartrending voices of the drying crew members, or Mademoiselle the First Mate, or Captain Lightfoot or even Jax.
No, he heard them, the bringers of the storm in his head. They talked to his Tante 'Tonia, though her voice was far too faint for him to make out much more than the familiar cadence and cant. And then there were screams, the human ones, and then the not-so-human ones, and still he remained obedient to the orders given, as he knew Captain Lightfoot would wish him to be.
Until, he heard the one voice again. Like an endlessly whirling wheel of the winds, a whisper and a howl, a voice still somehow substantial and ephemeral all at once, and flowing through his thoughts and his small body as if he were as well. 'Go to her, little broder. To your Antonia. She is tired, and Broder Sogba burn her bad - she cannot hear me. You tell her breade on him, and Broder Bade fill him. You tell her dis... '
Luc did not understand in the least what that voice told him to do. But he felt something lift him from the hawse hole, animate him up the stairs and hold him steady on a stormy deck that should have tossed his slight body to and fro like a rag doll. And that strength let him wrap his arm about her waist, Antonia's arm about his surprisingly steady slender shoulders as they staggered after the men carrying Thomas.
The rogue whined deep in her throat at the sight of the men with Thomas, staggered, nearly stumbled to her knees again - and would have, if Luc hadn't somehow managed to keep her upright. Antonia turned toward the First Mate as they passed, seeing her own gaze turned toward the helm, to Jax, and saw the light of relief flood those beautiful blue eyes. She could not begrudge the woman this happiness, no matter how she ached for her own. And Antonia did not look away from the golden angel of a woman until after they passed from the storm, into the relative calm of the aftcastle, to the officer's quarters.
Luc stopped short as the crew members carried their captain carefully into his room, to lay him on his bed before speaking to Antonia. Somehow he was sure, that this charge was not a thing meant for the ears of others. "Brother Bade," he said softly as his face turned up from her side, searching for his aunt's shadowed above him. "Brother Bade told me to tell you, to breathe on him. That if you did, Brother Bade would... Fill him? I don't understand... "
Antonia blinked slowly, tearing her gaze from the door to Thomas' cabin, where the men were only just leaving. She leaned down to kiss Luc's forehead softly. The rogue was still shaking, still exhausted and terrified for Thomas, though she hid it all behind the thinnest of masks for the boy's sake alone. "Luc... Thank you... The First Mate will have bandages, medicines... Go on. Bring her now... Please..." Antonia knew very well that Nicolette would be here any moment, that she wouldn't need any encouragement from Luc to hurry at all and certainly not a list of needful items to see to her own profession.
But no matter the storm water that saturated her thick locks of black hair that ran rivulets still down her face and neck - Antonia did not want the boy to see her broken, or the tears she knew she could not stop from falling.
Luc was a good boy, and did as he was told, disappearing to find Nicolette in an instant. And the moment he was gone, Antonia slipped into Thomas' quarters. Closing the door behind her, she dashed across the cabin, collapsing to her knees beside the bed they had shared only a single night before. Loving, shaking fingers gently traced the cold lines of his battered face, the bruise from a fist from the Boar still dark, the long cut on his cheek where she struck him with fist and eyepiece fresh and crimson - and she wept.
Her vision swam with tears as she tried to exam that angry bite at his side. Almost as wide as a shark's it seemed, and still bleeding dark and viscous fluids, blood mixed with some vile substance she knew instinctively she did not have the ability to right on her own. Antonia choked on her own sobs as she swiftly made to unbuckle the his pistol holsters, his belt and dagger sheaths before tearing open his ruined wet shirt, using it as best she could to gently, so carefully wipe the running blood from torn flesh.
'Breathe'
The rogue stopped in mid-stroke, looking back up to Thomas' too-still face. Slowly she leaned forward, took the deepest breath she could, tears be damned, and blew so softly across his cheek, across lips and nose until she had not the least breath left in her.
And yet, he moved not at all. Not a flicker of an eyelash. Not a twitch, or a twinge. Nothing at all...
Antonia fell back to her knees, her head dropped to her chest, defeated. She had nothing left, not an ounce of strength left to her and the rogue fell forward, her head resting against the bed's edge as she buried her face in the sheets. Something strange tugged at her hair, tickled at her temple, and her fingers reached for the side of her head.
The rogue whimpered with anguish when she saw what she pulled free.
Her Amazon lily. Her precious morning gift from Thomas. Somehow that lily had stayed plaited in her hair all this time, even sad and wilted and crushed as it had become. Antonia reached for the long, cold fingers of Thomas' hand and lay against the bed once more, placing his palm over her head, through her hair as she rested against the mattress. The fingers of one hand curled against her chest, wrapped about the lily's stem, while the other lovingly stroked the cool skin of Thomas' hand where it lay.
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.
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.
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