Chapter Ten: Arc Light!

[Captain Hesperus]

"Teammate of my daughter, I have seen the look you wear before in the eyes my own human crew here on the Broadsword. Uncertainty. Fatigue. Bewilderment." Zyorna chews then swallows. "If my advice is welcome at your table, then I say to you what I have said to them - we are a people at war. War brings chaos. Chaos brings times that create questions. Do not spend too much time trying to make sense of it all lest you miss out on the time that you have left. Rest.... knowing that time will provide answers of its own. Analyze, but also let go. For life is to be lived,"

Hercules paused in the act of shovelling another forkful of grilled chicken breast over egg-fried rice into his mouth to consider Zyor- Commander Kirin's words. Was he over-analyzing things? Should he just pass off the events of the day as done and immutable? There was certainly merit in that way of thinking, why overthink that which can't be influenced? But more that that, he needed to regroup, mentally. Seeing his respected commander trapped in an immobile suit of armor with failing life support systems brought back sore memories of another hero, another non-Traverser, who had risked his life alongside them. A man of immense strength, bravery, wisdom and mirth. Hercules missed Booty. More than anything, he had felt a kinship with the hulking sergeant in the short time the two of them had known each other. Men who appreciated good food, powerful physiques, fighting forms and firearms. He swore to himself after that loss, he would never let a member of his team die before him if there was even a single thing he could do to prevent it. Even if it meant giving his life, just like Booty had done for them.

He finished his plate of food, rose to his feet and saluted the COs in the room, "Respectfully, ma'am, I'm hearing my rack calling me. Thank you for your thoughts, and welcome back."
So saying, he turned and grabbed himself some much needed rest.

*****​

Hercules rose early, like always. His mind and body were conditioned to the point that he needed about five hours of sleep before he was finding himself staring at the insides of his eyelids. He got up, showered and hauled on fresh fatigues and a uniform jacket. First order of the day, he hit the gym. Thirty minutes on his arms, thirty on his chest, thirty on his shoulders and a final thirty on his legs. He pushed his muscles, adding an extra 50 kilos to his usual weights until the bar creaked uncertainly at the significant weight it bore either side of his frame. While his sleep had been complete, his mind had been mulling something over, something that he felt he needed to do. Once his last reps were done, he toweled himself down then took himself down to the armory. Once he got there, he searched around for tools, high-speed saws, grinders and drills. Once he'd found them, he sought out a SAM (or SAMANTHA) and posed a question.
"If it's still around, I'd like to get my hands on what's left of Captain Sharp's old megasuit breastplate. I have a... project I'd like to work on. Do you know where I'd find it?"

 

[Silanon]

Some things never change. A battle over and on antarctic ice. A ship from the future, and murderous red clouds. An incredible Logan - with a voice and a mind, of sorts. Technopathy. A commander, returned after who-knows-how-long slumber. Broo, rituals, and a captain saved. Quite the day, filled with the incredible, the impossible, miracles. And yet, amongst these wonders, some things never change. A simple truth, now as certain as the laws of gravity: After a long, tiring day, nothing beats the greasy, unhealthy abomination of a burger with way too much cheese and too many roasted onions. Let others eat fancy steaks, or slurp their soup - they just don't know how it's done. Guess one has to stay up too many long nights for research to find out the truth. She did that - and heck, it does not disappoint. She wasn't even hungry before entering the mess - too damn tired and exhausted for that, before the scent of food woke up her grumbling stomach - but now... it's just the divine taste she needs.

And while she eats, the Swede observes. Quietly, just like she's been for the most part in these last few hours. A helping hand where needed, yet ultimately happy to stay in the background. Part of science is to acknowledge where others are the experts. Not like there wasn't enough to keep her thoughts spinning in circles. She's asked questions before, in the midst of danger. But today... has been too much for a mind that likes plain, well-structured answers and a world that works in a certain, reliable manner. Again. Surely, things aboard the Broadsword are not boring.

And thought-provoking. Little by little, old certainties are eroded. Fighting in Munninn felt natural. The medbay - marvelous, and yet slowly familiar. The Broo... well, they are the Broo. Some things may still stay beyond logical comprehension.

"I prefer Ajaxes myself, when I get the chance to fly

Of all the words that are spoken, these make the Swede turn her head. Quizzical, the eyes muster the new arrival for a long, silent moment like one musters one whose character one has misjudged. Still, food is more important than a rebuke. And more important than the food... is the commander. The one they deemed more important than immediate progress. The trump card they bet their futures on. She tries to impress. Perhaps she does. But so did Gustavus Adolphus, Swedish king and savior of Protestantism. And yet, more than a decade later the very same war he'd died in still raged on. Inspirational leaders do not win wars on their own. This one? Time will have to tell. Ylva reserves judgment - and has mostly been reserved up to this point, in the commander's presence. There's the part that's happy for Toph - for mother and daughter. But no more than that. Let others be euphoric. For the Swede, at this moment, a simple burger is quite enough. But who knows. Times might change. There's no meat on that burger, like just a few months ago. Subtle changes that add up over time. One day, she might wake up and understand the Broo. Use technomancy to open her windows just to see a peaceful world underneath. Who knows. Dreamers don't win wars. That's why she tried to change. That's why she follows reason, not potentially ill-placed hope.

Her body, now fed, calls for a rest. Quietly, she attempts to retire. There'll be another time for answers, and for questions.

...


Morning comes late. It rarely does, in the military, and yet it's still not enough. Ylva's body calls for a longer rest. Fighting drains energy away. So do hour-long tension and exposure with the unexplained. And yet, wars are rarely won in the bed sheets, so she shakes off the sleepiness as well as she possibly can, grabs some clothes, ties back the long, blonde hair - and finds the shortest way towards a shower. Nothing wakens the body like icy water - afterwards, nothing reminds a soldier more easily of her duties than her uniform. Only that, today, duty seems light, with a tendency to non-existent. One of the ever-present Sams or Samanthas might provide clarification...

"Any orders I missed? Nothing woke me up."

With the answer likely being negative, there's time. Time in a futuristic ship, with little to keep her curiosity at bay. There's no grand plan for this. Everywhere's exciting. Even though... there's little that'd compare to what she's just seen yesterday. Or what she'll see when the moment of peace inevitably ends. She stops in her tracks to somewhere, turns... and smiles in direction of the Sam or Samantha she asked. "We don't happen to have a guitar aboard, do we?"

 

[Purr]

Sherwood

When Mario finally wakes up, he stretches, gets cleaned up and dressed in a set of workout clothes and heads for the ship's gymnasium. After a hearty sweat from the treadmill and pumping some weights, the Italian showers and gets into his uniform and sets out to find a person, but at the moment, he doesn't know who that person is yet.

Mario can still feel the wear and tear of yesterday's struggles in him for his body tells him so. If he is wise, he holds back a bit during his workout - makes the gains without pushing his inner organic tachometer into the red. If he's not, he'll pay for it later - or so the wordless signals in his body try to warn.

The gym turns out to a very clean, very well-maintained, and downright lonely place to be at the moment. This too has its charms for there is no waiting for the treadmill and no one else's own sweat to have to worry about when he wraps his hands around the weights of his choice. Mario's workout is a test in privacy for he is the only one there. Besides the endlessly comforting hum of the great machine all around him, Mario hears only the sounds of his own exertions which fill the tidy gym. On a vessel as storied as the UEEF SCL-107 Garfish-class Broadsword, some might see that as quite a blessing, but that, of course, is for Mario to recognize and give worth to.

Sams and Samanthas are busy beings. Like ants, the robotic animated CVR-3 armor units never seem to pause for long unless there is a specific duty that requires it - like talking to an eager Mario fresh out of the showers. This particular Samantha has a long pink ponytail with a matching reflective tinted visor which Mario can see his own reflection in. "She" is pushing a hovering cart filled to the brim with what looks like neatly-stacked small electrical devices about the size of E-clips but Mario does not recognize them. And can anyone blame him? The cart itself - floating on thin air - does not yet exist in his life. Only big vehicles can do that in the Army of Southern Cross. There is much aboard the Broadsword that the vast majority of the ASC will never even dream exist.

Not so for the one and only Wild Cards.

He stops a passing Sam (or Samantha) and poses a question, "Hey there! Got a question for you that I was hoping you could help me out with. I'd like to learn how to speak the Broo language. Who would be the best person to go to for that?"

Upon being addressed, the Samantha unit ceases her efficient-specific movements. In the span of two heartbeats, "she" rights herself and stands tall and proper like a proud Southern belle. The empty CVR-3 armor before Mario certainly seems filled with an invisible something as she suddenly poses and looks... well... as cute as a button. "Sweeetheaaart, there ain't but one fella on this here whole space-boat who I could recommend ya an' that'd be ol' Scary Jerry! That feller is the only one besides the Beast People who talk as they do, as well as they do!"

Samantha points at Mario and gives a girly tilt of her head. "Seein' as you an' him'r both human, prob'ly best you give him a holler once he's outta that there Sickbay, y'know? As fer them Beasties," Samantha turns to a happy pair of the Broo walking together, one of each gender, hand in hand, "they t'aint never held no language classes I ever heard. Seems they gotta speak American whenever they're around humans like you, sweet sugarplum! Thems the rules they follow as far as a gal like me knows. Lordy only knows how Scary Jerry learned. It suuure took him a him quite a many turns of the world. But yer still a hunkin' youngin'. You got the time, but hey! I sure don't! Gotta hustle now! Happy trails, handsome!" Off the Samantha goes down the hall with her well-laden cart that never touches the floor leaving Mario to do as he pleases.

 

[Purr]

Kaerri

Before...

"If I may ask a personal question, Auxiliary Specialist Cera: you say that War-queen Taniya gave life to you. Do you mean she commanded the cloning facility you were grown in?"

Cera glances at Commander Kirin's plate and choice of food before answering. "The mightiest of War-queens did not command the secret cloning facility. Only Empress Ura the Unforgiving, the one for whom the Ura-Meltrandi are dubbed after, held that honor."

After she answered that (or declined to answer), Eadric had another question, this one for both of them to consider, though he addressed only one. "Commander Kirin, you are in the command structure of this ship, are you not? Or will be, once you're able to resume your duties. And aren't the Wild Cards part of the ship's complement? Wouldn't that place Cera under your authority, through the Broadsword's chain of command?"

Commander Kirin thinks and with that thought a brief, amused grin crosses her beautiful and deadly features. "Perhaps among humans. Not so among Meltrandi." With a raised chin, Kirin looks to Cera. "No being in all the great and grand universe holds dominion over Cera's being as War-queen Taniya. Not even Empress Ura herself can command such fealty from the likes of her... and only a fool would try. I am no fool."

'Hmph," Cera replies shortly. "Your words are as eternal as time itself, commander."

"As is your allegiance to Taniya."

"Ah... Commander," he began hesitantly, "I suspect this is almost certainly something I'm not to know until my status clarifies, but I can't not ask. Did you really just say you're from our future?"

Both Meltrandi stop eating at that. Commander Kirin puts down her utensils, stares at her food, and folds her hands with a serious expression. "I did. I was informed all Wild Cards were aware of this?"

Cera thinks a moment, frowns deeply, and closes her eyes with a frustrated sigh. "Though Lt. Eadric Braidwood is a Traverser, he is not a Wild Card."

Commander Kirin's face shows only serenity. "It appears I am a fool after all." The Lisara-Meltrandi warrior resumes enjoying her meal as if nothing were amiss.

 

[Purr]

Kaerri

Also earlier...

"Thank you, Sam," he tells the presumed provider, wherever that entity might currently be.

A speaker from a wall panel with several controls on it replies in Sam's surfer tones. "Like, no prob, dude! Can't have you struttin' the halls in your birthday suit, can we, man?"

And so he does. Identifying something he suspects to be a shower, he starts there, locating the presumed controls and touching a finger to a spot that seemed safe (i.e. wouldn't activate anything just by the touch). "Hello," he greets it. "What is your function?

Simply touching the smooth and attractive surface of the shower controls and speaking does nothing. But with the same focus he applied with the revolver long ago, the Canadian receives a brief but incredibly-firm reply inside of his mind. The voice sounds neither male nor female or perhaps a combination of both. Whatever it is, it sounds quite sure of itself.

"There is no function. There is only protocol."

How do your controls work?"

This question produces another answer. "By applying pressure to my buttons or adjusting the lever with your thumb and forefinger. Buttons adjust pressure, water speed, hardness or softness, and different modes of water dispersal. The lever adjusts temperature; the farther away from you, the warmer. The water cannot exceed temperatures that freeze, burn, or otherwise cause you harm for this is against my protocol. For your comfort, you are advised to station yourself outside of the path of the water until you wish to immerse yourself under it. As we are planet-side, there are currently no water restrictions in place."

(He will go on to do the same with other things in that area of the room that look relevant to getting cleaned up and dressed for the day.)

In short, this soon creates a circus of conversations with at least three other electronic devices all of which are as eager to assist as the first. Eadric enjoys such responses from these little Cores like:

"Levels of aftershave are key to completing my protocol. After I have completed slicing the hair from your face, your skin will react naturally and accordingly. Levels of aftershave, dispensed from the end opposite my blade, will create a soothing experience and healthy sheen to your skin. Do not use me in the shower or I will turn off. This will prevent me from electrocuting you. If I electrocute you, you will require the swift response of many others to relearn this lesson.... assuming you survive the experience."

"My protocol is to vibrate! Do you understand? VAIII-BRRR-AAAY-T! Insert me into your face so I can vibrate upon your bones that show! I recommend inserting me using your largest hole! That is where your filthy bones are!"

"The Core you have most recently interacted with must follow the protocol to vibrate. My protocol is to conveniently produce the healthy medically-designed and crew-approved substance called toothpaste that will make that Core's protocol of more use to you. However, that Core is new and does not yet understand my protocol. Please use me prior to using the other regardless of what it tells you."

 

[Purr]

Kaerri

Now...

"Er... Sam? Can you hear me? Or Samantha? I could use a little guidance, if one of you is free." Assuming a Sam or Samantha hears and responds, Eadric will ask to be shown the way to the hangar, so he can talk to BOOP.

The animated sounds of Southern-gal Samantha reply to Eadric's call. "Shore can do, honeybuns! You just gimme two shakes of a lamb's tail and I'll be right there!"

Along the way, he asks, "I came here with a man named Mikey yesterday. Are you able to give me an update on his condition? I don't like to pester the medics if I don't have to. I'm sure they've still got their hands full."

As Eadric follows alongside the guiding Samantha with the bouncing bronze pigtails, he passes many a different corridor, room, and elevator he is unfamiliar with. All the while, he is passed by humans, Sam, and Broo all going about their business.

"Sorry there, sunflower! Only the medical officer in charge can provide that kinda info. Her order, y'see! Her name's Dr. Hee-toh-mee Ya-shee-dah an' she's on today! Ain't thatta mouthful? Maybe y'all have met?"

While going down several floors and through a busy intersection where the human crew and two Samanthas are working together and soldering up minor damage done to the walls and floor, Samantha asks Eadric which of the three battle hangars he would care to see. When he replies his goal to see BOOP, Samantha turns on her heel and leads the way. Upon reaching that hangar bay, Eadric sees a number of mecha he plain does not recognize. Large red and white Veritech fighters of futuristic designs he has never been privy to, but there is one design that stands out as a forward-swept Veritech should do - it is BOOP!

BOOP stands in Battloid mode surrounded by all six of his mini-BOOPS. They appear to be fixing cosmetic damage. They have not yet noticed you. Samantha proudly waves her hands in display of the unique mecha. "Well, ain't that somethin'! A backward winged birdie? Makes ya wonder just how she flies, don't it? You need any little thing, you jes' holler, snookums!"

 

[Purr]

Captain Hesperus Kaerri Psychie Sherwood Silanon

Hercules rose early, like always. His mind and body were conditioned to the point that he needed about five hours of sleep before he was finding himself staring at the insides of his eyelids. He got up, showered and hauled on fresh fatigues and a uniform jacket. First order of the day, he hit the gym. Thirty minutes on his arms, thirty on his chest, thirty on his shoulders and a final thirty on his legs. He pushed his muscles, adding an extra 50 kilos to his usual weights until the bar creaked uncertainly at the significant weight it bore either side of his frame.

Hercules' only struggle here is to find equipment large and sturdy enough to handle his own Herculean requirements (see what I did there?). The big Greek's time in the gym is not interrupted.

Like Mario and everyone in the Wild Cards, one bout of rest and sleep is not enough to fully recover from the incredibly hectic events that occurred less than 24 hours ago. Though healthy and hale, each of the Wild Cards requires time to physically recuperate. Your bodies are telling you you'll need a minimum of two more days of rest (meaning non-mission activity; nothing stressful) to be back in top form, or longer if you should push yourself seriously for any unreasonable length of time.

* * *​

Hercules walks alone to the armory. Those fellow Broadsword crewmates he passes along the halls (most of whom stare at him in amazement and some of whom make attempts at being friendly) are evidently all busy doing something, and yet the halls and elevators of the Garfish-class vessel from your future never ever quite seems... full. People are missing. Even the constant busyness of the Sams, always carrying something, always getting something done, cannot fill what feels like odd voids all throughout the ship.

All of the human crew on the Broadsword who survived the Battle at the Black Binary and survived to make the time travel trip here to your year of 2025 seem to move around the vessel as if the Broadsword is a part of them, a neighborhood perhaps or maybe even the only home they have ever known. But most of them don't seem to know what to make of you - people in new UEEF uniforms unwrinkled by the stresses of the time and experiences they alone know.

While the Broo treat you with unconditional (some might say naïve) affection and friendliness, the savage folk seem to do so simply because you are human or humanlike enough in the case of Toph. Not so the humans. They do not know you. Not yet. It takes no genius to realize that, with few precious exceptions, most of the Wild Cards (with the exception of Mario) are easily among the oldest people on the Broadsword. The vast majority of the crew do not look a day over 21 years of age while the oldest among you are near to 30.

But from time to time, you get a sincere, "Hey, good job out there," or a, "glad you're on our side, new guys."

It's a good start for the Broadsword's newest crewmates. =)

 

[Purr]

Captain Hesperus

OOC: There are times when my Players make my work as easy as could be - and this is a good thing! =)

Once his last reps were done, he toweled himself down then took himself down to the armory. Once he got there, he searched around for tools, high-speed saws, grinders and drills. Once he'd found them, he sought out a SAM (or SAMANTHA) and posed a question.
"If it's still around, I'd like to get my hands on what's left of Captain Sharp's old megasuit breastplate. I have a... project I'd like to work on. Do you know where I'd find it?"

(Two Cap'n posts ago.) =)

He looked over at the forlorn pile of broken armor and went over to it. The ruined megasuit would never be for for purpose again, it's outer skin melted and fused, the clamps and seams cut and bent out of shape. But perhaps there was something more it could do. He scooped up his discarded tunic and carried it in one hand as he worked the growing soreness out of his muscles while following his squad mates to the Mess Hall.

The Samanthas and Sams appear to be easy to summon. Just by Hercules's action of looking around for one seems to make one appear out of thin air in a short time. Most of the androids are busy, hustling here and there like roadies at a concert, but they always seem to find you and have time for you. Yet from time to time, you cannot help but overhear the humans among the Broadsword crew talking with amusement at the "new sounds" of their familiar android allies.

One Sam unit with black and gray colors turns a corner towards Hercules and enters the armory. "He" is hefting a backpack and two good-sized armloads of what appear to be medical supplies. "Yooo, shaka brudda!" this Sam carefully gives a shake of his free hand with his pinky finger and thumb extended, the three fingers against his palm facing Hercules. He strolls as if without a worry toward Hercules. "That breastplate belonging to Captain Sharp? Yeeeah, my dude. Strangest thing happened, man!" Sam cocks his head. "Looks like some dudes were hangin' down in the Mess Hall last night after a long one - maybe you Wild Cards - and somebody just... kinda left the breastplate there, right by the dinner-table, on their way to their rack."

Sam leans in as if sharing a confidence. "But check this!"

Sam presents his left forearm to Hercules. Silently and smoothly, a hatch opens revealing a good-sized retractable viewscreen. It blinks to life and shows a view of the Mess Hall. There is a dark out of the way corner that crewmates appear to be avoiding. In front of that corner, partially hidden by the shadow is - and Hercules would recognize this anywhere - Captain Sharp's breastplate. Sleeping right on top of it and even more easily recognizable is the curled up form of one very out-cold Beema. The little furry girl appears alone and exhausted.

However, as three human crewmembers approach her, Hercules suddenly hears what sounds like one downright vicious meaner-than-hell hiss from the speakers on the viewscreen. It is a frightening sound to say the least. This is immediately followed by surprised warnings from the recoiling humans. But Beema does not seem to have stirred in the slightest. The youngest Broo seems completely unaware of anything. Instantly upon hearing that sound, all three of the crew freeze, transfixed. Then in unison, they begin to back away slowly and cautiously as if they had just stumbled upon a nest of poisonous vipers or worse. Then, once a safe enough distance away, they depart to the relief of the few others watching while eating their lunches. No one appears to want to make a second try.

Sam looks up at Hercules. "Ain't that somethin', dude? Like... wowzy-wowzy, maaan. Those bros there wanna see what's goin' down with Beema and her little prize there, but they can't get near her. Maybe you wanna go down ta the Mess an' like, see what's up?" Sam's viewscreen retracts into his forearm as he gives a thumbs-up. "Beema's really taken a shining to ya, bro. I bet if anybody can get to the bottom of this, it's totally one'a you Wild Cards. Cuz you dudes? You got the knack!" Sam nods confidently and says this last like it's a thing. =)

What does Hercules do?

 

[Captain Hesperus]

Hercules watched the surveillance footage with a wry smile on his face. It was almost as if she was reading his mind. He nodded his thanks to the Bro-bot and walked through the early morning corridors of the warship until he arrived at the Mess Hall. The crew who were present, eating their breakfast (or their suppers for those standing down from the dog watch), giving Beema and her prize a fairly large berth as they came and went. Unfazed by the scene he had witness not minutes earlier, he advanced on the snoozing Broo. He extended a hand, palm down, towards her nose so she could catch his scent and quietly spoke to her.
"Mikro gataki*, I want to take your toy from you, I have plans for it. If you like, you can help me or you can just sit and watch. Your choice."

*trans. "Little kitten"

 

[Kaerri]

Spoiler: Music I listened to while writing

Earlier...

Both Meltrandi stop eating at that. Commander Kirin puts down her utensils, stares at her food, and folds her hands with a serious expression. "I did. I was informed all Wild Cards were aware of this?"

Cera thinks a moment, frowns deeply, and closes her eyes with a frustrated sigh. "Though Lt. Eadric Braidwood is a Traverser, he is not a Wild Card."

Commander Kirin's face shows only serenity. "It appears I am a fool after all." The Lisara-Meltrandi warrior resumes enjoying her meal as if nothing were amiss.

"Not at all, Commander," Eadric hastens to assure her. "I just turned up today, and my status is, well, in need of clarification. None of which you could have been expected to know, seeing as you only woke up today yourself, as I understand it?" It's a semi-rhetorical question; he's asked quite enough for one night and he really ought to leave the commander to eat in peace.


Today

A speaker from a wall panel with several controls on it replies in Sam's surfer tones. "Like, no prob, dude! Can't have you struttin' the halls in your birthday suit, can we, man?"

Eadric laughs and replies under the assumption that Sam can still hear. "I was afraid I'd have to wear yesterday's clothes, which wouldn't have been much better! Thanks again."

Simply touching the smooth and attractive surface of the shower controls and speaking does nothing. But with the same focus he applied with the revolver long ago, the Canadian receives a brief but incredibly-firm reply inside of his mind. The voice sounds neither male nor female or perhaps a combination of both. Whatever it is, it sounds quite sure of itself.

"There is no function. There is only protocol."

Interesting that the shower had refused the term "function," preferring "protocol" instead. "Function" is something one does; "protocol" is a procedure or set of rules one follows. "What is your protocol, then?" he asks, before asking how the controls work (which phrasing the shower doesn't object to, fortunately).

This question produces another answer. "By applying pressure to my buttons or adjusting the lever with your thumb and forefinger. Buttons adjust pressure, water speed, hardness or softness, and different modes of water dispersal. The lever adjusts temperature; the farther away from you, the warmer. The water cannot exceed temperatures that freeze, burn, or otherwise cause you harm for this is against my protocol. For your comfort, you are advised to station yourself outside of the path of the water until you wish to immerse yourself under it. As we are planet-side, there are currently no water restrictions in place."

He stays in his own world to talk to the shower, which is interesting. He considers this while he cleans himself.

Is it because he doesn't need to delve so deeply to hear this device? Captain Sharp's suit had been much depleted of energy; perhaps it hadn't been able to make itself heard outside that strange blue version of reality. But then, who decides whether he goes to the blue place or just hears the machine in this one? It hasn't been a conscious choice on his part, either time. Does the machine decide? That seems unlikely, especially in the case of the dying suit. It had had quite enough to do just to make itself heard. Then it must be the Traverser's choice, somehow. Perhaps that part of him which knows what to do to Traverse in the first place also knows what level of contact was appropriate? Eadric wonders if it's more like a heartbeat or a breath. If the former, his subconscious will be the one to decide every time. If the latter, the choice of Blue Place or physical world is automatic, but can be overridden by conscious intent. More experimentation is needed, but not just yet. For now, it's enough to learn how to perform his morning ablutions in safety. Which, it seems, is also a priority of the devices he talks to. He thanks the shower and moves on to the next interesting-looking device.

"Levels of aftershave are key to completing my protocol. After I have completed slicing the hair from your face, your skin will react naturally and accordingly. Levels of aftershave, dispensed from the end opposite my blade, will create a soothing experience and healthy sheen to your skin. Do not use me in the shower or I will turn off. This will prevent me from electrocuting you. If I electrocute you, you will require the swift response of many others to relearn this lesson.... assuming you survive the experience."

"Noted, and thank you," Eadric says with a nod, and proceeds to, well, slice the hair from his face and apply the aftershave. Interesting that the razor was designed for automatic shutdown in the shower, but still warned him about the danger of electrocution. Likely there was some way around the auto-off, then, possibly an accidental one. Best to be careful.

"My protocol is to vibrate! Do you understand? VAIII-BRRR-AAAY-T! Insert me into your face so I can vibrate upon your bones that show! I recommend inserting me using your largest hole! That is where your filthy bones are!"

He tries, not entirely successfully, not to laugh, but the toothbrush is so enthusiastic he can't help a few chuckles. He glances around for the toothpaste, and finds something promising nearby to talk to.

"The Core you have most recently interacted with must follow the protocol to vibrate. My protocol is to conveniently produce the healthy medically-designed and crew-approved substance called toothpaste that will make that Core's protocol of more use to you. However, that Core is new and does not yet understand my protocol. Please use me prior to using the other regardless of what it tells you."

"Thank you," Eadric tells the toothpaste dispenser, and uses it first accordingly, then brushes his teeth with the young toothbrush, which he also thanks when he's done. The dispenser has given him something new to think about besides oral hygiene, however. It referred to the toothbrush as a "Core," with the implication that the others he's Traversed with are also Cores. Does the word refer to the mind, or essence, of a particular device? It seems so. At any rate, the "Core" is what he talks to when he's Traversing, and that's good to know. Terminology can be important.

Also of interest: the toothbrush is "new" (though it seems the toothpaste dispenser is not). A young one, yet to learn all that impacted on its own protocol? That's what the dispenser said, anyway. Interesting that the Core of a device could be young in that way. It seems the Core and its protocol are not merely a matter of programming, but experience. Eadric isn't quite sure what to do with this, but files it away all the same. It could be useful later.

As Eadric follows alongside the guiding Samantha with the bouncing bronze pigtails, he passes many a different corridor, room, and elevator he is unfamiliar with. All the while, he is passed by humans, Sam, and Broo all going about their business.

Eadric offers all a friendly nod and smile, though he can't help staring at the Broo. Humans he's familiar with, and Sam isn't too far outside his experience, but Broo! How he hopes he'll be permitted to stay and learn more of that fascinating species! But then he begins to notice something that has him almost as focused on the humans. Nearly all of them are so young. Eadric himself is only twenty-eight, but practically all of the human crew he passes are several years younger than he is. What had happened to their older crew? Surely there had been more than just Captain Sharp and Commander Kirin. He keeps that question to himself, however. No doubt it's on the list of things he won't be permitted to know unless and until he's officially part of the crew himself.

"Sorry there, sunflower! Only the medical officer in charge can provide that kinda info. Her order, y'see! Her name's Dr. Hee-toh-mee Ya-shee-dah an' she's on today! Ain't thatta mouthful? Maybe y'all have met?"

A different, reminiscing sort of smile crosses Eadric's face at Samantha's choice of endearment. "Sunflower" reminded him of Taymee and her plastic hair-decoration. He wonders how she's doing, and the rest of her team too, but that question would have the same answer as this one.

"Yes, I've met Dr. Yashida," he answers Samantha. "Some time ago, albeit in passing, and with proper introductions yesterday. I'll ask her later, if she's not too busy."

BOOP stands in Battloid mode surrounded by all six of his mini-BOOPS. They appear to be fixing cosmetic damage. They have not yet noticed you. Samantha proudly waves her hands in display of the unique mecha. "Well, ain't that somethin'! A backward winged birdie? Makes ya wonder just how she flies, don't it? You need any little thing, you jes' holler, snookums!"

"Thank you, Samantha." Eadric gives her the same friendly smile he's given the humans, then approaches the veritech. "Hallo, BOOP," he calls as he gets closer. "Don't let me interrupt, but I wanted to see how you were getting on, and if you needed anything. I'm as new here as you are," he confesses, "but I'm sure Sam or Samantha or another of the crew would be happy to help either of us at need. It's a big ship, isn't it?" he muses, half-turning to look around the hangar. "Three other hangars, she said. No, three battle hangars. Does that mean there's others for different purposes?" He shakes his head wonderingly. "I do hope they let me stay. And what of you? Surely you weren't intended to be stuck down there on Antarctica Base. Do you have somewhere you need to go?" BOOP had shown it could understand him just fine yesterday, so he didn't try Traversing, just speaking aloud.

 

[Purr]

Silanon

Morning comes late. It rarely does, in the military, and yet it's still not enough. Ylva's body calls for a longer rest. Fighting drains energy away. So do hour-long tension and exposure with the unexplained. And yet, wars are rarely won in the bed sheets, so she shakes off the sleepiness as well as she possibly can, grabs some clothes, ties back the long, blonde hair - and finds the shortest way towards a shower. Nothing wakens the body like icy water - afterwards, nothing reminds a soldier more easily of her duties than her uniform. Only that, today, duty seems light, with a tendency to non-existent. One of the ever-present Sams or Samanthas might provide clarification...

"Any orders I missed? Nothing woke me up."

With the answer likely being negative, there's time. Time in a futuristic ship, with little to keep her curiosity at bay. There's no grand plan for this. Everywhere's exciting. Even though... there's little that'd compare to what she's just seen yesterday. Or what she'll see when the moment of peace inevitably ends. She stops in her tracks to somewhere, turns... and smiles in direction of the Sam or Samantha she asked. "We don't happen to have a guitar aboard, do we?"

With the endless droning of the Broadsword's engines and electronic systems all around her, Ylva thinking proves correct as she wanders the wide and militarily-clean corridors. Ylva finds not one but two Samanthas. One has a brown pair of pigtails that bounce with her every step while the other is a dark-colored suit with some kind of simple yet practical coiling of her bright blonde hair. It might be Celtic in origin. The two Samanthas are each pushing along a pair of hovering carts filled to the top with what appears to be dirty laundry kept in organized, tightly-bound containers.

After a friendly pair of silent waves, the first answers Ylva's question concerning orders. Her body language and mannerisms are as Southern U.S. as Southern U.S. can be. "Why, Sunshine, not only didya not miss a single order, we all here had orders not ta disturb yer snoozin' unless we were under red alert! Seems our new captain wanted y'all ta get all the beauty sleep y'all needed. Not that y'all need much!"

The second Samantha replies in a near-identical fashion to the first when Ylva raises her second question. "Jes' what kinda strings you lookin' fer, Miss Ylva?" Wnen Ylva replies that she is looking for the acoustic variety (see Sil's post in Fat Gandalf's), Samantha kicks up her heels and claps briefly. "You a music lover? Well, ah'll be! According to our disclosable information, there are three acoustic guitars here on-board! One belonged ta Petty Officer Buffett, now deceased, an' it remains in his holdin's.

As fer the two others..." (see next post)

 

[Purr]

"... you just might wanna check the Sickbay! There are two of 'em in use as we speak! You take good care now, sugar cube!"

Toph slowly rises from bed, still feeling drained despite the long time asleep that she enjoyed. She slips out of her clothes and showers, then once cleaned up, she dries off and dresses before heading out to find some breakfast. And coffee. Lots of coffee.

Once she has some caffeine in her, the world starts to look like life is worth living once more. Time to do some work in the ship's medical bay. Those soldiers in there need the very best care that she can offer up. If it weren't for the brave members of Admantium, her mother would still be in the cryotube waiting for the Ice-9 that was responsible for her rapid recovery. She owes them all, and by God she will deliver to them her A game. Time to go to work.

Heading over to medical, Toph turns her doctor mode on. Starting out, she hunts down the medical officer currently in charge and offers up her services to help out as needed. With so many wounded here, an extra hand would most likely come in handy.

Purr

Psychie

With a gentle swish of neatly-opening doors, Toph enters the Sickbay... to the sound of spirited music echoing from its normally quiet rooms. The echoing off of those hypercarbon walls makes the music a little louder than it probably is, plus the added audio sensation of the listeners, none of whom save one are adding to the playing. That might be because this is what they are playing:

Spoiler: Music

Rodrigo y Gabriela - Diablo Rojo

Toph sees about half a dozen of Adamantium's people - beat-up, bandage-covered, and more black and blue than most soldiers have a right to be - enjoying the music, smiles on their weathered faces. Hitomi sits on one bed clapping a steady beat, but it is not the sophisticated doctor-and-then-some they are paying attention to. Oh no. Toph sees this music is coming from two of the patients.

Taxed and struggling, grimacing and grinning, they are playing this from their beds. Gabriela De La Rosa from a sitting position (she was in serious condition last Toph passed her bed) is performing this snappy, peppy musical piece with "Padre," the very handsome Marine chaplain (who was in critical condition last night!). Gabriela's passionate brown face is glowing with an edge of pink as she closely watches her chording and fingering as she struggles to keep up with Padre - who is lying flat on his back and can't even see the guitar! He is playing all of this by feel alone! His eyes are closed. Both musicians are breathing heavily, perspiring lightly, and loving every minute of it.

That's when Hitomi spots Toph. "Oh, you! You get over here right this minute!" Hitomi hops off of the bed and, with naked feet, meets up with Toph right there on the Sickbay floor. With a sassy grin, she tells Toph right there in front of everybody, "Show me you can move those feet - I don't date anybody who won't get on a dance floor!" The Sickbay has just become a dance floor.

Hearing this, Scary Jerry pipes up to Toph. "What?! You're dating HER?! Don't dance with her! Hitomi's mine, I tell you! MINE!"

What does Toph do? =)

 

[Sherwood]

Mario decides that if he isn't going to be able to talk to Scary Jerry out of medical, he might as well try to make himself useful somewhere else on the ship. With that decided, he takes the nearest elevator for the hangar deck. There is always work to be done on the mecha, and he's not one to shirk his duty.

Once down in the hangar, the big man looks for a passing Sam or Samantha to ask, "Excuse me, but who's in charge down here on the hangar deck? I'm feeling like a fifth wheel and I'm in need of some productive work to do. Who do I report to so I don't get in the way?"

 

[Silanon]

"Thanks, you two." For a moment, the call for music and company seems promising. But then, the Swede's curiosity wins, as usual. "Anything you could tell me about that Officer, Samantha? Anyone who's been close to them, and still alive? Might want to seek them out. Feels like I don't know anything about the people I serve with; ought to change that, now that there's time."

 

[Psychie]

Toph takes a moment to enjoy the music before answering, feeling the beat in her heart. She then steps forward into the center of the room and strikes a pose before launching into motion. She may not be a skilled professional dancer, but she is very nimble, a gymnast from when she was young, so she fully expects to do well enough to impress.

When she's done, Toph says, "Jerry, you should learn that a strong, independent woman doesn't belong to anyone. If she chooses to let someone into her heart, it will be on her own terms and no one else's."

 

[Purr]

Toph takes a moment to enjoy the music before answering, feeling the beat in her heart. She then steps forward into the center of the room and strikes a pose before launching into motion. She may not be a skilled professional dancer, but she is very nimble, a gymnast from when she was young, so she fully expects to do well enough to impress.

Psychie The Sickbay, perhaps for the first time in a long time, is alive with life - and that is something to be said for a place that is meant to stave off death or worse. The SCL-107 Broadsword has seen more than its fair share. It shows on the faces of Adamantium. These wounded, broken soldiers who will mend up to fight another day, for themselves and the rest of humanity and their allies, seem to be at peace. Some are smiling, others just relaxed and unwound. With... the sole exception... of their lunatic leader Scary Jerry.

When she's done, Toph says, "Jerry, you should learn that a strong, independent woman doesn't belong to anyone. If she chooses to let someone into her heart, it will be on her own terms and no one else's."

This dance is not yet over, at least Hitomi's part in it has not ceased. As Padre and Gabriela continue their guitar-duet, Hitomi moves up to Toph with a look in her eye Toph knows well. Quite well. Hitomi is smiling but those are the eyes of the woman who saved Toph from being kidnapped back in Florida, the eyes of a Jeet Kune Do warrior, filled with mysterious intent.

From his bed, Jerry rankles and only those nearest him can tell if he is being serious or just putting on a show - or perhaps some of both or neither. Despite his bandaged body, Scary Jerry Howard yowls like a cat whose ego has just been stepped upon.

"And what about us strong, independent men, huh?!" He shakes his finger at Toph as if he could cast some spell upon her. "Get... get away from her, you hussy!" Some of his bed-bound crew laugh at his antics, at least as hard as their injuries will allow.

"She's MINE I TELL YOU!"

Hitomi replies. "I see you're delusional again. Did I give you too much of a dose of the good stuff earlier?" She makes an injecting motion with her hands.

Hearing this, the room laughs a bit louder. Except Padre and Gabi. Their every being is focused on the strings in their hands. Toph notices without needing her gift of perception when Hitomi turns the positions that Toph and Hitomi have made here on the Sickbay floor into something of a circle.

In Japanese, Hitomi speaks just loud enough for Toph to hear her. "You've got good timing, Doctor Toph. I could use another pair of eyes." While her voice and tone sound like those of a lady having a good time, her words are of a more serious nature. "Our Father," she glances at Padre, "just came out of Critical yesterday evening. Our Chrome Shaman," there is a wink in Gabi's direction, "is also Serious. Both are pushing themselves right now. They are like race cars in the yellow. Pick either Padre or Gabi. I'll watch the other. Then tell me in Japanese if their vital signs turn orange."

Toph can see both are sweating a little and are laser-focused though Padre continues to play without looking at his fingers. Gabi seems to be having trouble keeping up and is close to straining. Hitomi, the doctor in charge of both, raises her eyebrows to Toph as if to say, "See what I mean?"

Toph knows Hitomi is referring to the medical readouts posted in large letters and numbers with bright colors above their beds. As their guitars continue to fill the Sickbay and turn every head and ear, Hitomi locks her sensationally purpose-filled eyes on Toph's."

"Hey!" Cal groans. "What are you saying? Nobody in here but you two speak Japanese!"

"Buy a dictionary!" Hitomi laughs brightly, her arms raised above her shoulders, her legs moving swiftly in what must be some form of dance that goes with the Mexican guitar-jam Gabi and Padre are making.

With a daring tone that sounds more like the Jeet Kune Do master that Toph first met, Hitomi flashes Toph a glance that dares.

"Are you game?"

Just then, Padre, lying on his back shares a look with Gabi. Gabi nods. Then they launch into this!

Spoiler: Hanuman.

"Rodrigo y Gabriela- "Hanuman" OFFICIAL"

 

[Purr]

"Thanks, you two." For a moment, the call for music and company seems promising. But then, the Swede's curiosity wins, as usual. "Anything you could tell me about that Officer, Samantha? Anyone who's been close to them, and still alive? Might want to seek them out. Feels like I don't know anything about the people I serve with; ought to change that, now that there's time."

Silanon As Ylva speaks with one of the Samanthas, two more come around the corner empty-handed, take the gear the Samanthas were hauling and divide up the gear they were moving. In moments, the animated CVR-3 suits with girlish hair move on leaving Ylva to continue her conversation with one remaining Samantha, the one with brown pigtails with white, orange, and brown markers about her slightly scuffed outer shell.

"Petty Officer Buffett? Whoooeee! What a card that fella was!" Samantha holds out her hands and stands on one foot. "Forever playin' it up in the Mess Hall, gittin' grin after grin with his songs and jokes! Why, one time, he even said somethin' the legendary country star Dolly Parton once said - "if you see someone without a smile, give 'em yours! If you aren't smiling today, this one for you!!"

Samantha puts her hands upon her hips and tilts her chin low. "She" grows quiet for a moment, then says, "We lost ol' Buffet durin' our war against the Invid. He was stationed on the outer hull jus' pluckin' away with one'a his two guitars when the Invid came'a ambushin' out from behind the asteroids. This here ol' Garfish Broadsword was already limpin' from nursin' wounds when they hit us with everything they had."

Samantha shakes her head. "When they struck the outer hull with their cannons, ol' Buffett was sucked out inta space, guitar an' all! Died pretty quickly while still'a strummin'!" Samantha nods eagerly.

"So we here on the Broadsword like ta say that ol' Buffet jus' went on ta perform to a bigger crowd, y'see? Instead'a playin' jes' for us military folk, he's now spinnin' out there in the cosmos and playing for the whooole universe!" Samantha points at Ylva and wiggles as if dancing a little. "So you jus' remember, ol' Buffett loved everybody! Somewhere he's out there just'a playin' from Margaritaville with every shinin' star in the universe singin' along!"

Spoiler: Margaritaville.

Here's to you, Jimmy Buffett! Rest in Peace!

"Jimmy Buffet - Margaritaville (Lyrics)"

Samantha rubs her chin then looks over to Ylva in what could be construed as true curiosity. "Which kinda makes a gal wonder, don't it? Did he ever find that lost shaker a' salt?"

 

[Silanon]

"Feels like the kind of mystery that solves itself right when you don't need to know any longer. Like, when you just bought a new one..."

A smile creeps up on her lips, but does not hold out for long - instead, her expression turns thoughtful. Buffett - one of many who were lost. Makes one wonder, doesn't it? How many more irreplaceable men and women did it take for the Broadsword to make her way back here? And how many more will be added, despite all the combined efforts?

"Thanks for sharing his story.Guess it was a fitting end, if there had to be one. Would've liked to meet him, though."

That leaves a short break for rethinking. Where it seemed like an idea to pick up an unused instrument, it feels wrong now. They'll remember the guitar. Wouldn't do for a stranger to pick it up and play like it hadn't been a symbol of hope before. Or maybe...

"Samantha, got another question. Sorry for keeping you from your actual assignments..." For a second, her eyes glance to where the other three went on to take care of their tasks. "Think the crew would like to hear that second guitar again? Doesn't have to be, of course. maybe someone in the crew would like it. It's just... maybe he'd like someone else to add their part to his ever-lasting song. And music heals wounds, and there'll be a lot of old and new wounds of the mind until this is over."

 

[Purr]

Hercules watched the surveillance footage with a wry smile on his face. It was almost as if she was reading his mind. He nodded his thanks to the Bro-bot and walked through the early morning corridors of the warship until he arrived at the Mess Hall. The crew who were present, eating their breakfast (or their suppers for those standing down from the dog watch), giving Beema and her prize a fairly large berth as they came and went. Unfazed by the scene he had witness not minutes earlier, he advanced on the snoozing Broo. He extended a hand, palm down, towards her nose so she could catch his scent and quietly spoke to her.
"Mikro gataki*, I want to take your toy from you, I have plans for it. If you like, you can help me or you can just sit and watch. Your choice."

*trans. "Little kitten"

Captain Hesperus

As Hercules approaches that dark corner of the bay, it becomes apparent to a soldier of his abilities that there should be light in this corner, but either the light has been extinguished or blocked. It is the quietest spot in the Mess where shadow obscures all.

As Hercules approaches sleeping Beema, that darkness... slowly, hauntingly, comes to life.

Being the sensitive huge-hearted man that he is, Hercules feels it before he sees it. Something turns, sensing him. The big Greek comes upon the unmistakable sight of a pair of cloud-white fangs, long and deadly. From behind those quivering mouth-blades comes a slow and terrifying hiss - a warning of unbridled hatred, pure and promising.

"Ssshhhaaah!"

Having been a willing instrument of death himself, Hercules soldier instincts and more things deep and instinctive inside of him tell him - this is the only warning he is going to get. And behind Hercules? From the tables where the crew have ceased in their eating, the tanker hears the startled and sulfurous oaths of the crew of four at the table.

"Damn it! You were supposed to be watching!"

"Crap! I'm sorry!" comes the reply. "I only looked away for a second." Hercules is addressed in serious tones. "New guy! Back away slow, man! She means business!" Hercules hears almost everyone behind him quietly pleading for him to back off before it is too late for Hercules has come too close to Beema and has found the demon who guards her from the shadow.

In that shrouding darkness , there comes light. Two lights. Soft eyelids slowly open above those fangs. The eyes that behold Hercules are shining white, almost hypnotic, purely focused on him. Hercules knows he's being watched by a killer and one familiar to him.

As those eyes gaze at him, there comes a pause. A soft sound. "Hurr?" Then what seems like recognition. Eager fangs slowly disappear into the blackness. Behind him there are surprised murmurs of disbelief as the colors hanging above the fangs change from stark frightening white to a calm, sweet Mediterranean blue.

As suddenly as it came, all of the hate departs as if washed away. Those eyes calm and appear happier or at least content. This is accompanied by a clicking sound from the shadows. Hercules knows small arms. He also knows the safety on a Thundercracker heavy laser cannon has a distinctive sound when re-engaged if one has a mind to let it be heard.

As Hercules moves towards Beema, so too does Taymee as she emerges from the shadows, the mighty barrel of the Thundercracker no longer aimed in his general direction but safely towards the corner of the Mess. She is slow and treads carefully on all fours.

Hercules notices that as she comes into the light, she appears worn, scruffy, and altogether weary. Her battle fatigues are those she wore in the Mindbender room. Her Kayliss knives still hang sheathed upon her person. Her space-black fur is disheveled in ways that imply she has not slept since the freeing of Captain Sharp. It seems, finally, her hypercarbon-steel endurance is beginning to fail her.

But this appears to be the last thing on her mind as she watches Hercules place his trusting hand before Beema's nose. Hercules notices that Beema is in the deepest of sleeps, her front hand-paws moving. Her feet twitching and making brief running movements.

(OOC: Beema is doing this.)

The longer you watch, the more you can tell she is deep in the throes of a dream - so deep that she does not wake as the big Greek calls to her.

Still blue-eyed, the Rainbow Daemoness sits directly beside Beema. She stares at the youngest Broo before looking up to Hercules. Trying to blink away fatigue, the most-savage of the Broadsword's Broo shakes her furry head at Hercules and whispers with purpose in her soothing voice.

"Taeyookidan," she grins. "Beema... tifsha Osilios. Hurk-yoo-leez shom-shom."

Taymee watches Beema's sleep-twitching. She calmly reaches over and using her fingers, she gently brushes Beema's cheek and the light whiskers on the girl-Broo's face. She does this motion a few times. Then she brushes her hand on Beema's sleeping head down to the muscles on her neck. Beema does not stir, but her twitching begins to cease.

Taymee looks up at Hercules expectantly. "Hurk-yoo-leez kos. Oochyar." She nods once and pats his huge hand towards Beema's face.

What does Hercules do?

 

[Captain Hesperus]

Hercules wasn't afraid. Hercules was among allies and friends. So when Taymee reacted to his approach, he didn't react the way the other crewmen had. He didn't recoil, he didn't cry out. He paused in his movement, turning to regard her calmly and slowly. His eyes took in her appearance, even as his ears listened to her words in a language he didn't comprehend. While he didn't understand her words, her meaning was clear.
Beema was exhausted and shouldn't be disturbed right now.
With a gentle smile, the big Greek man settled down on his haunches and withdrew his hand.
"You look tired, Taymee, you need rest. Would you let me watch over you and Beema for a while? I'll make sure no one disturbs you until you wake up."

 

[Purr]

With a gentle smile, the big Greek man settled down on his haunches and withdrew his hand.
"You look tired, Taymee, you need rest. Would you let me watch over you and Beema for a while? I'll make sure no one disturbs you until you wake up."

Captain Hesperus

As Hercules withdraws his hand, tired Taymee's ears and eyes raise in surprise. Then she hears him speak and she frowns something terrible. "Numbah ten, numbah ten," she scowls. Bonking her head with her fist twice, she seems to berate herself when she whispers with a sigh, "Pan-Galaktik!"

One of your four crewmates stands up from the table and timidly approaches, putting Hercules between herself and the fuming Rainbow Daemoness. She stops just a few paces behind Hercules, her hands on her cheeks. "Like, whoa!" whispers the chubby slant-eyed girl with brown skin so healthy it gleams. "Sir, I guess it's true what they're saying! You're not afraid of anything! I've seen Rainbow here, like, all of my life and I can hardly talk to her, but... somehow with you here, it's like I'm less chicken or something."

Taymee growls at herself a third time. The crewmate nods with a sheepish grin. "Rainbow's English... well, it sucks and she knows it. I can read her, but I don't have the guts to talk to her." She gulps and points at Beema atop Captain Sharp's armor.

"She's saying, I think, that there's a certain way you wake a sleeping Beema. You, like, coax her with your hands." She makes the same massaging motions Taymee was making that caused Beema to sleep-fidget less. "Rainbow's patting your hand hoping you'll do the same." She chuckles in a very nerdy fashion and nudges the big Greek. "Tho' it was a good move of you to put your hand so she can smell ya, huh?"

Hercules then notices that Taymee has stopped berating herself and is now staring intently at this crewmate, her eyes deep blue. The crewmate sees this, freezes in surprise and gulps in raw fear. "Uh!!" She steps behind Hercules rather quickly.

Taymee softens and slowly nods to the crewmate as if agreeing with everything she has stated. "Candace..." she whispers as her lips curl into rare calm smile. "Numbah one."

The crewmate called Candace looks all around her to see if somehow another Candace has appeared out of nowhere. When she realizes Taymee is indeed not only speaking to her, but complimenting her, she half-hugs Hercules's arm in pure excitement. As quietly as she can, she exclaims, "Did she just compliment me? I'm number one?! Omigod! Guys, am I dreaming? Did you see that?"

"Yeah! Now get back over here!"

"Right, right!" Candace the crewmate looks up to Hercules and chuckles again. "I... I couldn't... without you! I'm just not..." then she flees back to the safety of her companions leaving Hercules with the Broo. "Did you see that?! That was amazing!"

The most savage of Broo caresses the youngest Broo as Taymee quietly tells Hercules, "Candace iz troo." She caresses Beema's head and neck. Beema seems to breathe a little more easily. There is something about the way Taymee is going about it that perhaps states the importance of not waking Beema up suddenly.

Taymee whispers and reaches for Hercules's "paw" once more. "Hurk-yoo-leez get Beema naow?"

With a gentle smile, the big Greek man settled down on his haunches and withdrew his hand.
"You look tired, Taymee, you need rest. Would you let me watch over you and Beema for a while? I'll make sure no one disturbs you until you wake up."

Taymee squints her eyebrows in thought. "If Beema no up... Yes." She looks up to Hercules. Her expression shows confidence in him.

 

[Captain Hesperus]

"She's saying, I think, that there's a certain way you wake a sleeping Beema. You, like, coax her with your hands." She makes the same massaging motions Taymee was making that caused Beema to sleep-fidget less. "Rainbow's patting your hand hoping you'll do the same." She chuckles in a very nerdy fashion and nudges the big Greek. "Tho' it was a good move of you to put your hand so she can smell ya, huh?"

Hercules shook his head in wry humor. He still had so much to learn from these proud alien beasties, and he resolved he would. He nodded his unspoken thanks to crewperson Candace.
"Taymee number 1." he replied, holding up his index finger, "Save Captain Sharp when nobody else can. All of Broadsword number ten at saving Captain Sharp, but Taymee number one. Hercules number ten at Broo talk, just like Taymee number ten at hoo-man talk. Taymee super-extra-good at many thing, but okay at other thing."
He was too kind-hearted to let the feral Broo berate herself when she was already so far past the end of her endurance and so worn out.

Taymee squints her eyebrows in thought. "If Beema no up... Yes." She looks up to Hercules. Her expression shows confidence in him.

He wanted to get Sharp's breastplate for a project he had in mind.... But his wants shouldn't come before anothers' needs. He made his decision.
"Hercules stay here with Taymee and Beema, let brave strong Broo sleep good sleep in peace. Hercules chase off all da monsta and Broadswords who try to wake Taymee and Beema. Hercules get Sharp's armor later, once Broo awake and happy again."
So saying, he settled himself down on the floor with his back to Taymee and the still-sleeping Beema, resting against the edge of the booth seating and watching the rest of the bar with his dark eyes.
"Taymee great hero for Wild Cards, save Captain Sharp. Hercules always think Taymee great friend to him and Wild Cards."

 

[Purr]

Captain Hesperus
The crewmate known as Candace quietly just about bursts in glee when Hercules nods in her general direction and with gratitude. Some folks are just like that! =)

"Taymee number 1." he replied, holding up his index finger, "Save Captain Sharp when nobody else can. All of Broadsword number ten at saving Captain Sharp, but Taymee number one. Hercules number ten at Broo talk, just like Taymee number ten at hoo-man talk. Taymee super-extra-good at many thing, but okay at other thing."

Taymee sits in a lotus position and closes her eyes, her ears facing directly up at the huge muscle-bound Greek as the savage Beastie takes in his every word. She allows herself the tiniest of smiles, and from time to time Hercules can see glints of light green and hot pink come from her nearly-closed eye-slits.

Her expression remains serene and pleased. It only changes when Hercules says:

"Hercules stay here with Taymee and Beema, let brave strong Broo sleep good sleep in peace. Hercules chase off all da monsta and Broadswords who try to wake Taymee and Beema. Hercules get Sharp's armor later, once Broo awake and happy again."

A look of certainty, perhaps a decision concerning fulfillment to duty, shows itself on Taymee's dark features. She whispers as she struggles with her broken English.

"No. Beema say she want...up when Hurk-yoo-leez is here. Hurk-yoo-leez is here. Dis why Taymee touch Beema naow."

A small frown covers her face again as her mind battles on.

(OOC joke: Calling all Eadrics and Marios to the Mess! Language barrier in progress! You have shown interest in Broo language and culture! Come hither posthaste! Just kidding! Ha ha!)

Beema, still in the deepest of sleeps, squirms as of sensing something. Taymee notices and continues to gently brush her neck muscles and the top of her head. She looks up to Hercules again.

"Beema... tifsha... too much Osilios. Is... Ah... Rakidas." In frustration partially borne of fatigue, she says this last like an English speaker might say the word "darn it."

She perseveres. "Hurk-yoo-leez here. Beema say Hurk-yoo-leez only for... Cappy Sharp armor. Yes to... Hurk-yoo-leez Beema-up?"

For a third time, Taymee reaches for Hercules's hand while continuing to stroke Beema's fur. She watches him to see that he can tell what she is doing. She seems to wish that he take over and wake Beema himself.

What does Hercules do?

 

[Captain Hesperus]

"Okay, I shall wake Beema.", he replied, following Taymee's guidance and gently stroking the young Broo's fur. He took the time to marvel just how fine her fur was, smooth like strands of silk, laid over soft warm skin and delicate bone. He felt a wave of comfort wash over him, a primeval reaction that has been mankind's reward for caring for animals which had existed for all of human history.
"Beema.....Beema...." he murmured, continuing to tease her fur, "Hurk-yoo-leez come to get you and Sharp's armor. Beema gonna snooze all day through?"

 

[Purr]

Captain Hesperus

"Hrrr... hurrh?" peeps Beema as one eyelid slowly opens. Her face turns toward Taymee as she is pulled from sleep into wakefulness. Without waiting for wakefulness to arrive, Beema sees someone close to Captain Sharp's old ASC armor, and snarls!

"Reewaarr!!" Out comes Beema's little claws and fangs as she unknowingly threatens one of the dangerous Broo alive. "Stay 'way! Hurk-yoo-leez OWNLEEEE!! Eh?" Reality catches up with her as she finds herself staring into the starless-night black fur and bored eyes of a Rainbow Daemoness.

"Iz Taymee?"

"Iz." Sleepy-looking Taymee takes zero offense from Beema's heartfelt but misguided threat and instead points a finger up and behind the youngest Broo. Still on Captain Sharp's armor, Beema whirls, claws ready for the nearest would-be foe. When she recognizes Hercules, all of her youthful battle-fervor evaporates replaced by a cheer-filled squeal that fills the Mess and brings smiles to nearly all faces (lacking mouths, the animated CVR-3 units better known as Sam and Samantha are unable to smile).

"EEEEEEEEE!!"

Suddenly, but perhaps not unexpectedly, Hercules is set upon by a leaping Beema who is soon crawling all over his head and broad shoulders. The moment Beema leaps off of Captain Sharp's slag-hunk of old armor, Taymee scoops it up, stands, and presents it to Hercules before anything else can happen. Beema is too busy shouting, "CLIIIMB MOOOUNT HURK-YOO-LEEEEEZ!" Her breathing has gone from soft and near-soundless to as rapid as a rabbit's as she zips all over Hercules's head and shoulders playfully attempting to evade his huge hands if they should reach to catch her. "Ehh-heh-heh-heh-heeeeh!!" Hercules receives affectionate hugs and head-bumps, enthusiastic pushes from her cheek into his own and ruffled-up hair as Beema piggybacks onto his shoulder and enjoys sniffing his hair. All the while, she is breathlessly filling in Hercules into every last detail.

"Beema guard de armor! Beema know iz Hurk-yoo-leez 'coz Taymee an' Beema smell! We good guard! Taymee no can sleep but Beema so tired, no can stay 'wake!" She face-plants into Hercules's hair as if falling asleep mid-sentence, but perks right back up. "Sam an' Petty Offica Zhou say, 'Hey! What you doing?' an' Beema say, 'Iz Hurk-yoo-leez! Stay 'way or me get you!" The Rainbow Daemoness glances back to the Thundercracker hidden partially in the shadows and makes a brief attempt at looking innocent.

"What you do wif armor, Hurk-yoo-leez? Iz too small fo' you! You make... ahhh... helmet for Hurk-yoo-leez? Beema want to see!"

This whole while, everyone in the Mess Hall (about half a dozen humans and three Sams moving food and machinery) stop and stare, smiling at these antics.

"Man," says one of the crewmates that warned Hercules earlier. "You Wild Cards must be something special! Rainbow Daemoness over there goes from threatening to ash anyone who gets near and in under five minutes, you have her and Beema just about eating out of your hand!"

"Well, that's your problem, Hank. You see the Broo as something like pets. They're anything but."

"Yeah, I'd be good to fix that."

"Ya think?"

How does Hercules proceed now?