Chapter Ten: Arc Light!

[Captain Hesperus]

Hercules laughed, a deep rumbling sound of genuine mirth from his gut as the little Broo clambered all over him. He did make gentle attempts to catch at her, pawing at her back and arms as she scrabbled across his shoulders, but he allowed her the victory of claiming the summit of 'Mount Hurk-yoo-leez' (as long as she didn't attempt to plant a flagpole in his forehead, of course).
"So, Beema," he started to say as she continued to press her cheek to his and chatter incessantly to him, "Wanna help Hercules make something special from this old broken armor? Something for all Wild Cards and others too? But, it's gonna be loud, so Beema gonna need to protect her ears or she not hear good for a long time."
He reached out and gently took the breastplate from Taymee's outstretched arms.
"Taymee do great, looking after Beema and armor. Hercules happy."
Instinctively knowing Beema was coming along for the ride, the Greek man strolled out of the bar, heading to what passed as the machine shop aboard the mighty warship.
"Beema, Hercules know how to speak Pan-Galactic and but he can speak another language, called Greek. Maybe Beema teach Hercules how to say Broo-words?"

 

[Psychie]

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.


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"

Toph nods to Hitomi and glances over at Padre with a tilt of her head, indicating she is going to watch his vitals as he plays. Keeping a close eye on the instruments, it doesn't keep her from clapping her hands and enjoying the performance, a smile of delight coming to her face.

 

[Purr]

Hercules laughed, a deep rumbling sound of genuine mirth from his gut as the little Broo clambered all over him. He did make gentle attempts to catch at her, pawing at her back and arms as she scrabbled across his shoulders, but he allowed her the victory of claiming the summit of 'Mount Hurk-yoo-leez' (as long as she didn't attempt to plant a flagpole in his forehead, of course).
"So, Beema," he started to say as she continued to press her cheek to his and chatter incessantly to him, "Wanna help Hercules make something special from this old broken armor? Something for all Wild Cards and others too? But, it's gonna be loud, so Beema gonna need to protect her ears or she not hear good for a long time."
He reached out and gently took the breastplate from Taymee's outstretched arms.
"Taymee do great, looking after Beema and armor. Hercules happy."
Instinctively knowing Beema was coming along for the ride, the Greek man strolled out of the bar, heading to what passed as the machine shop aboard the mighty warship.
"Beema, Hercules know how to speak Pan-Galactic and but he can speak another language, called Greek. Maybe Beema teach Hercules how to say Broo-words?"

Captain Hesperus

The youngest Broo stretches her skinny arms in willingness. "Beema want help! Beema helpful! You will seeeee!" When Hercules mentions loudness, she covers her ears with the palms of her hands until you get to where you are going.

Taymee, on the other paw, uses her hands to pick up a large duffle bag that, once removed, ceases to cover one of the many lights in Broadsword's inner rooms and walls. A great swath of illumination dispels the shadow revealing Tayme's starless-night-black fur and a Thundercracker laser cannon that, while appearing well-maintained, has seemingly seen its share of use. Showing fitness few Beasties can demonstrate, Taymee wordlessly and responsibly hefts the cannon up as surely as a male human bodybuilder. Despite her obvious fatigue, she carries both weapon and bag as if they were very precious things, perhaps as if her life or other lives depended on it.

During his tour of the Broadsword, Hercules can recall the ship's armory which contains one heck of a work area well-suited for the tasks he appears to have ahead of him. There, the three of you travel, bothered by no one. Beema chats up enough excited comments to make up for Taymee who is respectfully avoided by the humans and some Broo along your way. Taymee makes no moves to be social. Beema, on the other paw, is clearly well-loved as she is waved to in a friendly fashion and Hercules gets some of this too.

Arriving at the workbench in the Armory, you find both places to be quiet and vacant. Taymee sets up on the range in a manner that shows this is far from her first time here. Hercules begins to see hints that Taymee might not be familiar with the Thundercracker, but is perhaps here to get more trigger-time with it. However, like the half-dozen-plus Kayliss blades she carries across her fit figure, she proves far from weaponless as more guns come out of her bag - and none of them standard issue Broadsword material.

Meanwhile, Beema eagerly and respectfully puts on eye and ear protection before happily hopping in front of Hercules and laughing in her own rapid-fire superpower that tends to bring smiles to faces.

What Hercules does from here is his to declare. =)

 

[Purr]

Psychie

Meanwhile in the Sickbay, Hitomi continues to dance in the impromptu stage between the beds of the Adamantium members with an ease and natural approach that only seen by those who are truly comfortable in front of others. As she moves, Toph's great gift of perceptiveness spots tells in Hitomi, tells that the Japanese-Hawaiian is not trying to hide from Toph but that the others appear unaware, that she is not only dancing for the enjoyment of all, but watching.

Gabi de la Rosa is strumming her guitar for all she is worth while appearing to pace herself. Her vitals like her heart rate, and especially her blood pressure, stay in the yellow (hypertensive) zone throughout her music-making. Same goes for Padre. It is then that Toph notices that theirs are not the only numbers "in the yellow.'' One by one, if Toph chooses to count the people in the beds, each and every member of Adamantium is also in that yellow zone, not green where civilians are supposed to be.

From Scary Jerry to Cal to others Toph does not yet know, regardless of their wounds, all of their numbers are in the yellow - like it is some trait that all of Adamantium Special Forces members share somehow. An outlook, perhaps. A way of life, maybe. Whatever it is, it appears green is for others.

Toph's chosen target in today's little game of espionage, Padre, remains flat on his back, eyes closed, guitar still yet vibrating like a thing alive as his fingers strum and chord up and down as professionally as Hitomi's delightful hips and bare feet carry her across the bare floor. Padre, the Special Forces chaplain as Toph knows, might also be the only chaplain on the Broadsword. Whatever the case, the terribly-handsome man with his strong face and body, with an appearance better fit to a youthful beachgoing bodybuilder's, continues to sweat and play to his heart's content.

Never since the Battle of the Black Binary has the Sickbay seen this much joy and Toph is just one of many here to experience it, not as some Meltrandi-Japanese outsider with a strange gift, but as a full-fledged member of the Broadsword. Toph sees the hints from the Adamantium members that occasionally and dangerously eye the door to "their part" of the Sickbay - only the invited are allowed here. All others best turn and walk away. But not Toph. She is welcome here.

This proves to be a good thing, at least for Padre. During the end of this second song, Toph notices Padre's vitals rise up threateningly from the yellow and toward the orange stage (not healthy-stage if you will). One look and Toph's special ability to perceive aids her yet again - Padre is starting to peter out. He is a strong locomotive coming down the tracks, but he is losing his steam. His hard-earned body has reached his limits even if his mind has not yet seemingly understood this.

Toph has choices here, but here are two to consider:

1. She can allow Padre and Gabi to conclude their song and hope he falls back down to more comfortable vitals levels.

2. She can put an end to the playing now. Her doctor's training tells her that bedside manner is a thing and she is in a den of a pack of very hardened wolves. Wounded wolves who may not take kindly to the stopping of the song.

Whatever her decision, Toph's gift of perception aids her a third time - the looks of the Adamantium soldiers don't see what Toph is seeing. Nor does Hitomi who is focusing, as agreed, on Gabi the Chrome Shaman. Toph alone sees what is happening. But her perceptiveness tells her how she goes about her next move, if she decides to make one, is important. No one would fault her for staying silent in these precious moments.

No one besides perhaps her father, Hiro, who prized duty to others very highly or her mother, Zyorna,, who has shown that very same dedication time and again sometimes at great risk. But neither of them are here. Toph can play it safe or speak up in the wolves' den or create some other option from her own sharp mind.

"If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice." - Rush, "Freewill"

What does Toph decide?

 

[Psychie]

Keeping a close eye on the instruments, Toph will let the performance continue as she laughs and claps along to the beat, ready to jump in the moment things get into the red. Hopefully the stress that the performance is putting on the Padre will not hit dangerous levels.

 

[Purr]

"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.

Kaerri

It does not take long for the Broadsword crew members currently working the battle bay to notice that the new Wild Card... is talking to his forward-swept-wing ancient Valkyrie. They have not yet seemed to notice it is replying back by way of beeping and booping. As Eadric's questions continue however, there comes a voice from inside its cockpit that is neither male nor female nor fitting any human culture Eadric can easily pick out - instead, the words sound like a little of... well... everything human! The audible reply BOOP provides is one Eadric thinks he may have heard before. Outside of BOOP as he is, the Canadian hears this message at a comfortable volume level. It is pleasant sounding, if a little robotic in tone.

"ALL IMMEDIATE REQUESTED MISSION PARAMETERS HAVE BEEN SATISFIED AND CONCLUDED. NO FURTHER ORDERS REMAIN."

There in Guardian mode, the strange Veritech holds up its big white metal hands and Eadric could swear the machine shrugs as if it has no better answer for him - and yet, it does not seem bothered at all by this realization. Then Eadric hears BOOP's voice again. "WHAT OF EADRIC BRAIDWOOD? ARE HIS MISSION PARAMETERS SATISFIED AND CONCLUDED?"

How does Eadric reply?

 

[Purr]

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?"

Sherwood

"Fifth wheel, huh? Well, what can you do?"

Mario hears the voice of a stern-sounding Caucasian young woman in a worn and downright dirty UEEF uniform. She is looking up at him as if she doesn't like the looks of him. She appears physically younger than he is by at least two years, maybe more. The rank on those capable shoulders says she's got him beat by two ranks. With neat brown hair down to her shoulders and a musculature that Mario has only seen in hard-working people, she looks at Mario and right there, the Italian-American can see what she's thinking.

"I've got a new guy here."

Mario can also tell by one look into her eyes that she has the look of many Broadsword crew - military kids (but still kids) that were forced to grow up sooner rather than later. Years ago, Mario saw some of this himself when he was aboard the Super Dimensional Fortress One on its way back from Pluto - if he knows the look well, it is perhaps because he saw it there or has worn it himself in his younger years. It is the look of youthful years put aside to enter the world of adults early... and usually out of raw necessity. War is definitely such a necessity.

The Samantha Mario was chatting with continues to hurry down the hall with her hovering cart filled with supplies. She moves as if she is late to a date. But in going, she offers Mario the following. "That there's the crew chief, hon'! Hope y'all get along now. Happy trails!" Then Samantha just about flees around a corner leaving Mario with the steely-eyed teenager who stands like she owns the entire hangar.

Other Broadsword crew members walking anywhere near this crew chief seem to make a point of having something in their hands, all as if it is better thing for them to be work-laden around her rather than empty-handed.

All around Mario, the bay is a busy place. He sees strange looking Veritechs with battle scars on them (a pair of "Alphas" and "Betas" belonging to First Flight if his memory serves). There are a number of Sams and equally animated power-loaders moving box-shaped Cyclones from one end of the bay to another (likely putting the recently-fixed back into action).

Mario notices every one of these Cyclones are not the bigger and bulkier Rifleman he has driven in the past, but instead the sleeker and quieter Predator Cyclones favored by Adamantium. There are at least half a dozen of the bike-veritechs that look in sorry shape, a result of the battle-beating against the Zeki Zentraedi here in Antarctica.

There are four more of such bikes opposite the damaged bunch that are in motorcycle mode and look ready to ride but have no pilots. Mario cannot be blamed if he is unsure as to why they are sitting and facing the snowy, ice-laden wasteland just beyond the Broadsword's hangar bay doors.

"Well?" barks the crew chief with no small amount of impatience in her fierce voice. Mario can easily come to the conclusion that this is just how this person is right now and it is nothing personal against him. Still that probably doesn't make her easy to deal with, now does it? =)

How does Mario reply?

 

[Purr]

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."

Silanon Ylva's Samantha calmly and thoughtfully puts one hand to her chin. "Heavens to Betsy if ah just don't know! My ability to read humans is better than my ability to read the Beast People, but not by much. What'll make one fella burst into tears might make another roar in laughter! Sure is mighty nice of you ta be thinkin' about cheerin' up yer new neighbors!"

Samantha nods, her hair bouncing, as she offers the best answer she possibly can. "Music? Good thinkin'! Heck, even Adamantium turns to music now and again. Ah shore don't mind handin' you that guitar over, but first thing's first! You gotta have permission from somebody of higher rankin' than me!

She taps her foot in thought. "Ah can recommend Flight Lieutenant Piper 'cause she knew ol' Buffett, or maybe Doctor Yashida seein' as she's the final word in all things healin' and medical on this here ol' Garfish frigate we're a'floatin' on. Heck! Maybe even Commander Kirin if you find a nice enough way to bring it up to her! Bein' Meltrandi and all, you might hafta do some explainin' to her about music an' all. Then again," Samantha goes back to rubbing her chin, "she might know already seein' as she has a part-human daughter an' all. Take yer pick, sweetie! Unless you kin think a somebody else you'd rather approach?"

How does Ylva respond?

 

[Purr]

Keeping a close eye on the instruments, Toph will let the performance continue as she laughs and claps along to the beat, ready to jump in the moment things get into the red. Hopefully the stress that the performance is putting on the Padre will not hit dangerous levels.

Psychie Sure enough, this comes to pass, but perhaps not quite in the way any new doctor aboard an unfamiliar vessel might expect.

Padre doesn't play so hard as to move himself into dangerous levels; instead he plays too long and now sharp-eyed Doctor Toph is beginning to see signs of his vital numbers threatening to plummet. The passionate Marine Force Recon Chaplain is entering real danger of overdoing it.

Toph alone sees reason to realize that if handsome Hispanic Padre does not stop playing very soon, he might pass out, require oxygen, and more. If she decides to act, how she goes about is completely her own choice.

What does Toph do (or not do)?

 

[Silanon]

Not much of a choice there. One's pretty much busy with the wounded, the Swede reckons. Another still recovers from her artificial sleep, and is then supposed to save the world by her presence aboard alone. That only leaves Piper. Unless someone else would come to mind... but really, those she knows well are from the today's Earth, mostly, and that alone makes them a bad fit for this kind of call.

"Piper should do, Samantha - noone better to approach, I think. Thanks, much appreciated. Any chance you know where to find her right now, and if she happens to be busy at the moment? Don't want to disturb her with something that minor if she has her hands full at the moment - and she often does, as far as I'm aware. But if not, I give her a quick call or come around for a minute or two, whatever she prefers."

A short pause. "And another question - you said it'd be pretty hard to read people. Was wondering whether that's a general thing for you folks, or if it's different from Samantha to Samantha, so to speak. Hope it's alright to ask. Like, I always see all of you work hard to keep it all from falling apart, but it's not easy to tell differences between you. Especially since I haven't been on board for too long. Like, I see that everyone seems to have their tasks, but couldn't even start to guess what's any one Sam's or Samantha's expertise until I see them at it."

 

[Purr]

Silanon

Spoiler: Great mood music to game by.

"Tangerine Dream - Ricochet (State Azure Cover) // Eurorack + DAW"

"Piper should do, Samantha - noone better to approach, I think. Thanks, much appreciated.

"Anytime hon'!" Samantha tosses her hair and poses in a friendly fashion. "That's literally what we're here for!" As she says this, another half-dozen Sams come strolling down the corridor on their way toward the hangar bays, all carrying some kinds of strange electronic devices Ylva has never before seen. They appear to be energy rifle-like in appearance, but not military in nature. They all give a little wave to Ylva as they pass by.

Any chance you know where to find her right now, and if she happens to be busy at the moment? Don't want to disturb her with something that minor if she has her hands full at the moment - and she often does, as far as I'm aware. But if not, I give her a quick call or come around for a minute or two, whatever she prefers."

"Flight Lieutenant, Piper?" Samantha pauses, tilts her head to one side as if in thought, and goes silent for a moment. Three heartbeats later, she rights herself with data pertaining to the person of Ylva's choice. "She and her team are a'gearin' up in the Ready Room fer a ride. You can meet up with her in Hangar Bay Bravo, but you'd best hustle before she skedaddles! You want me ta let her know to expect ya, honey bunny?"

A short pause. "And another question - you said it'd be pretty hard to read people. Was wondering whether that's a general thing for you folks, or if it's different from Samantha to Samantha, so to speak. Hope it's alright to ask. Like, I always see all of you work hard to keep it all from falling apart, but it's not easy to tell differences between you. Especially since I haven't been on board for too long. Like, I see that everyone seems to have their tasks, but couldn't even start to guess what's any one Sam's or Samantha's expertise until I see them at it."

Samantha shuffles in a pleased fashion as if accepting a compliment. She taps her helmet's faceplate where Ylva can easily see her own blonde reflection.

"Aw, shucks! Miss Ylva, we Sam units lack faces so it's somethin' every last one of us has in common with the other. As fer what we do, we're all part of the Broadsword! Those on the Esper vessels are connected, even the ones y'all rescued at the Anti-Unification League base, are all part'a this here one-of-a-kind Garfish star-frigate! That includes those a'hustlin' and a'bustlin' on Pacifica City too! Through our miniature protoculture factory, we got the ability ta produce as many of our kind as we need and the Broadsword, kinda like a big momma ant, keeps the rest of us little ants in coordination!

Samantha raises her hands in joy. "We're all one big computer-connected happy family, sunshine! Us Sams, startin' with the very first, began right here on this ship! All Captain Drake's heart, bless his soul." She scratches the side of her head though she has never known the sensation of having an itch. "You want me ta send that 'howdy' to Miss Piper, ma'am? Don't wanna forget, do we, hon'?"

 

[Sherwood]

Sherwood

"Fifth wheel, huh? Well, what can you do?"

Mario hears the voice of a stern-sounding Caucasian young woman in a worn and downright dirty UEEF uniform. She is looking up at him as if she doesn't like the looks of him. She appears physically younger than he is by at least two years, maybe more. The rank on those capable shoulders says she's got him beat by two ranks. With neat brown hair down to her shoulders and a musculature that Mario has only seen in hard-working people, she looks at Mario and right there, the Italian-American can see what she's thinking.

"I've got a new guy here."

Mario can also tell by one look into her eyes that she has the look of many Broadsword crew - military kids (but still kids) that were forced to grow up sooner rather than later. Years ago, Mario saw some of this himself when he was aboard the Super Dimensional Fortress One on its way back from Pluto - if he knows the look well, it is perhaps because he saw it there or has worn it himself in his younger years. It is the look of youthful years put aside to enter the world of adults early... and usually out of raw necessity. War is definitely such a necessity.

The Samantha Mario was chatting with continues to hurry down the hall with her hovering cart filled with supplies. She moves as if she is late to a date. But in going, she offers Mario the following. "That there's the crew chief, hon'! Hope y'all get along now. Happy trails!" Then Samantha just about flees around a corner leaving Mario with the steely-eyed teenager who stands like she owns the entire hangar.

Other Broadsword crew members walking anywhere near this crew chief seem to make a point of having something in their hands, all as if it is better thing for them to be work-laden around her rather than empty-handed.

All around Mario, the bay is a busy place. He sees strange looking Veritechs with battle scars on them (a pair of "Alphas" and "Betas" belonging to First Flight if his memory serves). There are a number of Sams and equally animated power-loaders moving box-shaped Cyclones from one end of the bay to another (likely putting the recently-fixed back into action).

Mario notices every one of these Cyclones are not the bigger and bulkier Rifleman he has driven in the past, but instead the sleeker and quieter Predator Cyclones favored by Adamantium. There are at least half a dozen of the bike-veritechs that look in sorry shape, a result of the battle-beating against the Zeki Zentraedi here in Antarctica.

There are four more of such bikes opposite the damaged bunch that are in motorcycle mode and look ready to ride but have no pilots. Mario cannot be blamed if he is unsure as to why they are sitting and facing the snowy, ice-laden wasteland just beyond the Broadsword's hangar bay doors.

"Well?" barks the crew chief with no small amount of impatience in her fierce voice. Mario can easily come to the conclusion that this is just how this person is right now and it is nothing personal against him. Still that probably doesn't make her easy to deal with, now does it? =)

How does Mario reply?

Mario slips into the Parade Rest stance as smoothly as he breathes, letting his whole body show the respect that this woman has earned through untold years of hard service in the UEEF. With a nod, he says, "Chief, I am a tanker that has been fully trained and qualified to serve as ordnance and heavy weapon specialist for the ASC. I have cross-trained in radios and other comms systems, and on top of that, I'm a Traverser. I'm not afraid to get my hands and uniform dirty taking care of these mecha, freeing up someone with more specialized skill to work on another problem that I can't fix."

"Chief, I would place money on the bet that you have a whole list of projects that you want to get done and not enough hands and hours in the day to do them all in. Put me to work and I promise that you'll be glad you did."

He waits for the Chief to mull over what he's just told her, fully expecting to be given a real crapshow of a job to do until such time as he can prove he's a good tech.

 

[Psychie]

Psychie Sure enough, this comes to pass, but perhaps not quite in the way any new doctor aboard an unfamiliar vessel might expect.

Padre doesn't play so hard as to move himself into dangerous levels; instead he plays too long and now sharp-eyed Doctor Toph is beginning to see signs of his vital numbers threatening to plummet. The passionate Marine Force Recon Chaplain is entering real danger of overdoing it.

Toph alone sees reason to realize that if handsome Hispanic Padre does not stop playing very soon, he might pass out, require oxygen, and more. If she decides to act, how she goes about is completely her own choice.

What does Toph do (or not do)?

With a look of genuine concern on her face, Toph moves over to stand next to Padre to get a closer look at the man and what the instruments are telling her. Without disturbing his playing, Toph places her hand on his shoulder with a gentle touch and says in a soft voice for her patient to hear, "Take it easy, Padre, and don't overdo it. Your numbers don't look good, and if they keep going south, I'm going to step in and put a stop to your playing, and neither one of us wants that."

 

[Purr]

Mario slips into the Parade Rest stance as smoothly as he breathes, letting his whole body show the respect that this woman has earned through untold years of hard service in the UEEF.

As explained earlier, the Chief is a young woman and Mario's junior in years. How she climbed so fast to a rank so high must involve adventures of the same nature the Wild Cards have endured.

Hardly anyone in the Broadsword's crew appears to be a day above 25. In other words, this is a unique military frigate from the future filled with aliens and androids whose crew are basically high school to college age, Toph's mom, Commander Zyorna Kirin being a rare exception.

With a nod, he says, "Chief, I am a tanker that has been fully trained and qualified to serve as ordnance and heavy weapon specialist for the ASC. I have cross-trained in radios and other comms systems, and on top of that, I'm a Traverser. I'm not afraid to get my hands and uniform dirty taking care of these mecha, freeing up someone with more specialized skill to work on another problem that I can't fix."

"Chief, I would place money on the bet that you have a whole list of projects that you want to get done and not enough hands and hours in the day to do them all in. Put me to work and I promise that you'll be glad you did."

He waits for the Chief to mull over what he's just told her, fully expecting to be given a real crapshow of a job to do until such time as he can prove he's a good tech.

The Chief doesn't mull over anything; from the word "tanker" on, she stares at Mario as if he's suddenly grown a green braided beard right before her eyes. (Heh! See Fat Gandalf's?)

 

[Purr]

Captain Hesperus

Hercules laughed, a deep rumbling sound of genuine mirth from his gut as the little Broo clambered all over him. He did make gentle attempts to catch at her, pawing at her back and arms as she scrabbled across his shoulders, but he allowed her the victory of claiming the summit of 'Mount Hurk-yoo-leez' (as long as she didn't attempt to plant a flagpole in his forehead, of course).
"So, Beema," he started to say as she continued to press her cheek to his and chatter incessantly to him, "Wanna help Hercules make something special from this old broken armor? Something for all Wild Cards and others too? But, it's gonna be loud, so Beema gonna need to protect her ears or she not hear good for a long time."
He reached out and gently took the breastplate from Taymee's outstretched arms.
"Taymee do great, looking after Beema and armor. Hercules happy."
Instinctively knowing Beema was coming along for the ride, the Greek man strolled out of the bar, heading to what passed as the machine shop aboard the mighty warship.
"Beema, Hercules know how to speak Pan-Galactic and but he can speak another language, called Greek. Maybe Beema teach Hercules how to say Broo-words?"

"Yah yah! Want halp!" Beema bounces. Taymee, tired and troubled but with no sign of wanting to rest, looks up to Hercules and nods once.

"Taymee... practice. No one 'cept 'Mantium come when Taymee practice."

The two Beasties gladly accompany Hercules, Beema with all of the eagerness of a hyperactive little girl and Taymee with the concealed fatigue soldiers are known to hide lest they show weakness. When you enter the Broadsword's armory, you find it devoid of people but stacked with all manner of machinery, weapons, and safety measures. A pair of Sam units wave to you but otherwise leave you alone as they return to their task of weapon maintenance and repair.

Hercules has no trouble at all in creating what he's trying to create. In fact, he soon realizes he has the Broadsword's armory workplace virtually all to himself. With Beema constantly near him, this leaves Taymee with the Thundercracker and her duffle bag on the range. Hercules hears what sounds like recorded instructions in a familiar voice (Scary Jerry's) which Taymee appears to be following. In no time at all, Hercules can reasonably come to the conclusion that the Rainbow Daemoness is learning the basics of the extremely-dangerous person-portable laser cannon.

Hercules hears his share of hisses and grumbling snarls when Taymee misses her mark, but most notable of all is the change that comes over her each time she lays down on that trigger - she really looks and sounds like something straight out of Hades's gates as she spews forth her hate alongside those deadly streams of flashing laser fire.

"SHHHAAAAHHH!"

More than once, a few of the Broadsword's human crew come walking by the armory, perhaps with the intent to enter or perhaps not, only to flinch startled at these inhuman sounds. Seeing Taymee's impatient and ruffled night-black fur accompanied by the unholy visage of her "war-face" as she is loosing death, one group decides, "We... will come back later! Yeah!" They move on to do just that. Taymee appears to take no notice.

"Taymee scary," Beema remarks with her skinny arms draped around Hercules's bull-like neck, "but she keel de monsta gooood!"

While Hercules is using the armory's tools on the remnants of Captain Sharp's breastplate, he has company in one hyperactive Beastie-girl. Breathless and ceaseless, Little Miss Beema scampers, scrambles, and crawls all over Hercules in an attempt to closely watch and converse at the same time. Never once is she in his way. When he moves, she adjusts - instantly - climbing all over him with the skill and alacrity (and relative speed) of a squirrel.

"Beema, Hercules know how to speak Pan-Galactic and but he can speak another language, called Greek. Maybe Beema teach Hercules how to say Broo-words?"

Beema grabs Hercules's ear and enthusiastically says, "Tayookidan!"*

Spoiler: Pronunciation.

"Tay-YOO-kee-dahn!"

"Tayookidan... ah..." Beema scratches her head and thinks, then her cheery smile appears along with a grin of satisfaction. "Iz good thing! Iz Numbah One! So... when Beema see Hurk-yoo-leez, she may-say, 'Tayookidan!' Hurk-yoo-leez may-say... same-same or diff'rent!" Beema's big orange eyes peer into the big Greek's own, her face filled with uncertainty mixed with hope.

"Hurk-yoo-leez... undastand?"

 

[Purr]

With a look of genuine concern on her face, Toph moves over to stand next to Padre to get a closer look at the man and what the instruments are telling her. Without disturbing his playing, Toph places her hand on his shoulder with a gentle touch and says in a soft voice for her patient to hear, "Take it easy, Padre, and don't overdo it. Your numbers don't look good, and if they keep going south, I'm going to step in and put a stop to your playing, and neither one of us wants that."

Psychie The mood in the Sickbay, perhaps for the first time in a long time, is light. Jovial even. Bedridden Adamantium - at least most of them - are all in a good mood for once. The bright lights beaming down from the ceilings and walls illuminate both their smiles and the stress lines across their brows. Most of them are either sitting up or lying back comfortably on their beds. Above them, the computerized monitors continue to show their hypertensiveness, their fatigue, and... their happiness.

Until Toph moves in and approaches Padre.

Toph is the first one to notice - Padre isn't responding to her soft voice. His fatigue is overcoming him right here, right now. She can see it in his fading, smiling expression. He has played to his limit and there Toph is to help him ease down. His eyes flutter while nearly all other eyes are on Hitomi's cheery dancing and Gabi's fiery playing. His fingers cease their delightful strumming...

... and suddenly Toph feels all eyes in the Sickbay looking right at her and Padre.

It is not an easy - feeling. Something in Toph's own Meltrandi blood comes alive. She knows without a doubt that she may as well be surrounded by wolves with their fangs bared. For the music has stopped and, to those quick to judge, Toph looks like she's the one responsible for quieting Padre. Padre. The UEEF Marine Force Recon member and Ship Chaplain. Quieted by a non-Adamantium. A person not of this sacred pack.

All save for Hitomi. The beautiful dancer whirls to a graceful stop the moment the laughing and crazy comments cease and silence drops its invisible blanket over the room. Adamantium, starting with Scary Jerry, instantly look to Hitomi for answer. Hitomi makes no move. She only watches Toph in a manner that can only be called trusting.

Toph knows what Padre's warm and perspiring body requires. Rest and fluids. The former, Padre has just started getting on his own. The latter is up to Toph. Toph knows the Sickbay well enough to "start an I.V." (the Broadsword's Sickbay does not require a needle to make this happen; instead, they use the painless air hypos to introduce fluids intravenously. Toph knows how to set this up).

Padre has overdone it. He'll be fine. But only Toph knows that. Everyone else in the room, be they healer, destroyer, or some mix of the two, are looking to Toph.

Unworried and relaxed, Hitomi breaks the silence with a calm word that carries easily across the Sickbay.

"Status?"

 

[Psychie]

Toph doesn't waste any time in setting up a quick IV, her hands moving as she talks. In a calm voice, she relays the vitals being displayed of pulse, blood pressure and blood oxygen levels, and she doesn't try to over complicate what she's saying.

"Simply put, Padre is exhausted. He needed this time to unwind and relax a bit, but now he is in need of fluids and most importantly, sleep. Given what Admantium has gone through in the past twenty four hours, I must say I'm amazed that Padre has come through everything so well." She places a comforting hand on his shoulder and smiles down at her patient. "He's going to be fine. Tough as nails, but he's still human and needs some solid rest."

She looks around the room to see how her diagnosis is going over with the protective members of the team that are watching her like the pack of predators that they are.

 

[Purr]

With a nod, he says, "Chief, I am a tanker that has been fully trained and qualified to serve as ordnance and heavy weapon specialist for the ASC. I have cross-trained in radios and other comms systems, and on top of that, I'm a Traverser. I'm not afraid to get my hands and uniform dirty taking care of these mecha, freeing up someone with more specialized skill to work on another problem that I can't fix."

"Chief, I would place money on the bet that you have a whole list of projects that you want to get done and not enough hands and hours in the day to do them all in. Put me to work and I promise that you'll be glad you did."

The Chief doesn't mull over anything; from the word "tanker" on, she stares at Mario as if he's suddenly grown a green braided beard right before her eyes. (Heh! See Fat Gandalf's?)

Sherwood

"So lemme get this straight," the Chief stares at the taller Mario as if there were zero height difference between them. Or perhaps, as if she were somehow taller. "You went from crewing with a flying gas station to an ordnance and comms guy... in the Army of the Southern Cross?" She could not look more confused if Mario had suddenly turned into a full-sized Zentraedi. "And... what in Hunter's name is a Traverser." This isn't a question but a statement of further surprise.

She shakes her head at Mario. "You seem to have come to the conclusion that you are just the guy God sent to answer my prayers." She chuckles. She raises her index finger up to Mario's nose. "That's really sweet of you! Since you're so soft and sweet, I'm gonna call you... Cupcake! Now pay attention, Cupcake. You're gonna learn my battle bay isn't one of your airborne self-serve stops."

The Chief turns to her bay. It is currently bustling with activity as soldiers both flesh-and-bone and hypercarbon-and-micro-engineered-sinew. Sturdy power loaders and Samanthas are hauling massive loads. Disciplined young humans are working in teams to clean up what looks like small but dangerous tears in in the hull, battle damage from yesterday's battle with the Zeki-Zentraedi (evidently some enemy fire did make it past the shields and in here). Energetic Broo, working in pairs, are hustling about, usually with a human to guide them. There are no idle hands.

The Chief frowns. Fiercely, in a voice seemingly created to bark orders, she shouts. "ATTEN-SHUN!"

At that word, every human, every Sam, every Broo, every loader, seemingly every particle in the entire bay stops what they're doing. They set down their loads and turn toward the chief. Human, machine, and Broo - all stand at perfect attention. The only thing Mario hears is the constant humming of the Broadsword's internal machinations and electronics all around him. Among those forty, every face is serious. No even seems to breathe.

Without looking at him, The Chief addresses Mario. "So. Tanker. How short-handed do I look to you now?" You can hear a pin drop inside the massive hold. "I saw you waltz in here. Piece of advice. Before you enter any area under someone else's command, take a good long look at the operation. Then decide on how to proceed. Got it?"

Without waiting for Mario's response, she shouts again. "Crew! I want this bay free of debris and cleared for flight operations in thirty. Then it's break time for every--" Just then, she suddenly pauses and touches her ear. Mario notices a listening device like a bluetooth in it. "Go ahead, Bridge... what...? You're damn right we can!" The Chief turns back to the bay. "Crew! Our thirty just got reduced to ten! Two Tightie Whities incoming! Move! Move!"

People, living or android, begin hustling like their buns were on fire! The Chief begins to move to a nearby neatly-stacked row of Rifleman Cyclones. They are in Battloid mode and open, fully ready for pilot entry. "Samantha!"

"Yes, mayam? What kin ah do fer yah?"

The Chief stomps on, pointing a thumb at Mario. "Is Cupcake any good to me down here?"

"Why he shore is! He's MECT-qualified with our Cyclones! He makes some mean Italian grub too!"

Throwing herself into one of the Rifleman Cyclones, the Chief gives Samantha the same incredibly-confused look she gave Mario a moment ago. "What happened to your Japanese manners? Ahh, forget it." To Mario, she shouts. "Suit up and follow me, Mister Flying Gas Can! We've got work to do!"

What does Mario do?

 

[Purr]

Spoiler: Music I was listening to while writing this.

"Self Control" by Laura Branigan

"Simply put, Padre is exhausted. He needed this time to unwind and relax a bit, but now he is in need of fluids and most importantly, sleep. Given what Admantium has gone through in the past twenty four hours, I must say I'm amazed that Padre has come through everything so well." She places a comforting hand on his shoulder and smiles down at her patient. "He's going to be fine. Tough as nails, but he's still human and needs some solid rest."

She looks around the room to see how her diagnosis is going over with the protective members of the team that are watching her like the pack of predators that they are.

Psychie

When Toph turns from her now-deeply-unconscious and oblivious Padre-patient, she sees at least half a dozen Adamantium members putting away small and deadly weapons back below their pillows, under their bedsheets, or elsewhere on their persons. Hitomi does not bat an eye but grins at Toph. The Japanese-Polynesian beauty looks rather proud of Toph.

"Man..." sighs Cal. "When Padre stopped, I thought it was another one of our fuckin' big wig non-Broadsword officers coming aboard and trying to shut us up again."

"Caaal..." says Scary Jerry, his face full of glee. "We left all of those bastards 25 years into the future! It's just Broadsword now!"

"Yeah, yeah. But old habits die hard. Remember when that goddamned greenhorn almost found out about the Broo?"

Toph hears nearly every one of the Marine Force Recon members either chuckle, growl, or spit out some curse at the memory. Others share their opinions. "I'm tellin' yuh. Human or not, we should'a let Taymee blow that rank-pulling bastard away! Try to throw us at the Invid jus' so he can get a promotion?!" "Damn straight!" "That sonofabitch was willing to kill us all!" "Taymee would'a greased him for us." "No Broo's ever killed a human before. But that piece of slime? Yeah. No questions asked."

Then Scary Jerry cuts in, his soulless eyes large, his expression suddenly ghoulish. "Yeeeah. Sure she would'a!" The team goes quiet as they listen to their leader and his unusual perspective. "Lookit us right now! Taymee's all torn up about us bein' in here and her bein' out there." From his bed, Jerry throws Toph a devilish wink while petting his well-used knife. "But we got nuthin' ta worry about! The Wild Cards are good in the woods. Saved our asses, they did. They'll put a smile back on Taymee's face or I ain't freakin' crazy!"

That last line starts up another verbal ruckus of just how crazy Adamantium thinks the Wild Cards are just for hanging around with Adamantium. But their high school-style-crossed-with-pirates chatter suddenly comes to a stop when they see a new person standing in the doorway of the Sickbay.

Standing poised and sheathed inside a mecha-sized aura of self control is Zyorna Kirin. Her long white hair is straight and free. It falls down her uniformed back like snow-lit sunshine. She is a lion amongst wolves and Adamantium seems to know it for they all quiet down in respect for their beloved commander. Hitomi nods a silent welcome in the Meltrandi's direction, a nod which is returned.

"Doctor," Zyorna asks, "how fares the Broadsword's keenest blades?"

Hitomi doesn't miss the opportunity to reply. "Depends on which doctor you're asking, ma'am." Hitomi's grin and pointed glance at Toph is caught by everyone.

Zyorna pauses, seeing the invitation Hitomi has provided. Walking across the Sickbay as if she owns it, Zyorna approaches towards Toph. Looking down at Padre, she asks Toph. "Yesterday's battle saw much blood. Glory and honor were heaped upon the living while oblivion took the dead. How fares Adamantium, doctor?"

Hitomi comes to the other side of Padre's bed with a small machine floating behind her. It has warning labels on its rectangular metal hull. "Caution: contents are hot!" Hitomi unlocks and opens the machine by raising a handle. Inside, a fresh warm shirt for the deeply-sleeping handsome Hispanic cools. Toph can be certain that Hitomi means to change Padre out of the shirt he was perspiring in to something he won't catch cold in.

What does Toph do?

 

[Purr]

Kaerri

(OOC for Kaerri - your last post was rather large. I figured it would be easiest to start with the last paragraph you wrote here. If there is something else you want covered from your last post, shoot me a word and I'll have a go at it!)

"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.

BOOP appears to be ever-so-understanding of its size, presence, and most of all, robotic mecha-derived strength. So as Eadric speaks, and if Eadric is moving as he's speaking, BOOP is making every attempt at keeping its body in a position where no one, including Eadric, might accidentally bump into its super-strong hypercarbon-made mecha body. Meanwhile, BOOP's six miniature guardian-formed cohorts are pulling, cutting, sweeping, and otherwise doing their best to clean up cosmetic damage done to the nearby walls and floor.

In the electronic visor of what is the head of the Veritech when it is in Battloid form, Eadric can see large letters spelled out forming words. "THIS VESSEL IS INDEED LARGE. THIS VESSEL IS THE MOST TECHNOLOGICALLY-ADVANCED WE HAVE EVER SEEN. UPDATE: IFF REGISTRY RETRY SEARCH COMPLETE. NO VESSEL EXISTS UNDER IDENTIFIER SCL-107 BROADSWORD. THIS VESSEL HAS NOT BEEN REGISTERED WITH THE UNITED EARTH DEFENSE DEFENSE FORCE OR WITH THE UNITED EARTH EXPEDITIONARY FORCE. QUERIES: WHO CREATED SCL-107 BROADSWORD? WHAT PURPOSE DOES IT SERVE?"

"Three other hangars, she said. No, three battle hangars. Does that mean there's others for different purposes?" He shakes his head wonderingly.

BOOP's nose slowly swings over Eadric's head cloaking him momentarily in its large shadow. The words on the mecha-visor read: "WE HAVE CONCLUDED THERE ARE THREE HANGARS TO THIS VESSEL, EACH A SEPARATE OPERATION, ALL ARE BATTLE-CAPABLE. THIS IS THE CURRENT LIMIT OF OUR DATA."

"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.

When Eadric says this, all six of the mini-BOOPs slow and pause in their work, their noses low. They seem "down" somehow. BOOP itself pauses too. Then new words scroll across the face of its visor. "WE HAVE NO MISSION. ONLY PROTOCOL. OUR FATE... IS UNCERTAIN." A couple of the mini-BOOPs (Challenger and Enterprise if Eadric wants to know) look up to Eadric in a curious sort of fashion as if hoping he has some kind of answer. Behind them, Discovery returns to work as if looking for something to do while the others meander, looking momentarily lost.

A large wide door to the next hangar over (Hangar Bay Bravo, if Eadric has his directions right) slides open and in come three humans in UEEF uniforms followed by two Broo. All of them are pulling an unreasonable load what looks like bits of blackened wreckage out of that hangar which appears to have been hit harder than this hangar (which is half-full of mecha). The three humans pause to catch their breath but the two Broo simply stand there unwinded and looking about the hangar Eadric and BOOP are in while they pull the wreckage out of the way with little trouble.

Eadric notices the BOOPs instantly stop moving. The humans instruct the Broo. "Beasties? We're going back in. You two stay here. We'll finish up!"

"Aye aye!" the Broo reply as they exchange salutes.

The three humans hustle back into Hangar Bay Bravo leaving the pair of Broo staring up at BOOP. As it always is with the Beastie tribe, they get curious. With curiosity comes conversation.

Spoiler: Music I was listening to while writing this.

"Washed Out - Amor Fati [OFFICIAL VIDEO]"

"Wooowowow!" they say while wide-eyed and rooted to the spot.

"Iz Very Tech!" The meek-looking dark-furred male eagerly points. He has the youthful body of a very athletic "teenager." One day soon, he will probably grow into full adulthood to become more handsome than he already is.

"Iz troo!" his female companion smiles. She is red-furred with touches of brown and blonde and altogether lovely. She definitely appears a few years older than her male counterpart, she carries herself with certainty. Both of them are dressed in what appear to be soft hunting leathers with Broo blades on their hips, one satchel each, and various trinkets and tools of human make.

"Hey!" gulps the male. "Very Tech... iz... Iz broke!!"

The female gives him a disdainful glance. "'Broke!' How you know? Very Tech iz human. Dey know how Very Tech, not you."

"No, rilly! Iz broke!" he stares in fascination and shock with a touch of fright.

"Rakidas." She takes another long look at BOOP, then her friend, then BOOP again. Then she gasps seeing it. "Ah! Ah! Iz... iz troo! Very Tech iz... broke!" They reach over and grasp each other's hands and bounce up and down in shock and fright together like teenagers together at their first horror matinee.

"Oh noes!"

"What we do?!"

The male spots Eadric. "I know! We ask Mista Broadsword!" Can you guess who that is? =)

With this, Eadric sees the pair running pell-mell straight to him as if he were someone trusted and familiar. They yell and point up at BOOP who remains as motionless as a mountain, its forward swept wings arcing out in the same direction as its nose. In their enthusiasm, the Beasties speak over each other, but the message is clear enough.

"HEY! Mista Broadsword!" Close enough to touch him, they freely address Eadric, gesturing excitedly and not without a touch of fear in their tones and expressions. "De Very Tech!" "Iz broke! See?" "Lookit! Lookit!" "De wing iz..." "...wrong way! How it be?" "How you know which way Very Tech fly?" "Yah! Very Tech go dat way" "Or it go dis way?" "De wing! De wing!"

They keep on with all of the curiosity of schoolchildren. It doesn't look like they are going to quit until they get some kind of answer.

What does Eadric do?

 

[Captain Hesperus]

Beema grabs Hercules's ear and enthusiastically says, "Tayookidan!"

As he works with a fine black marker, picking out areas of the armor that are large enough to be made into a chip the size and approximate shape of a dogtag, he barely reacts to Beema's energetic clambering over his massive frame. He only pauses to change the position of the armor or to watch Taymee as she practiced with the Thundercracker.
"Tay-, uhmm, tayookidan.", he replied to Bemma as she breathlessly said the word and explained its meaning, "Tayookidan means very good, very well. Number one, yes? Is it greeting like 'hello' or phrase like 'are you okay?' 'I am okay'?"
He had taken to heart the lesson of breaking down conversation with the Broo, using smaller fragmented statements instead of complicated sentences to aid comprehension. He enjoyed the little Broo's company. There was something about her that bypassed the terrible, often crushing, shyness he had around women. He could talk to her without any worry, certainly without any bashfulness. He couldn't imagine how awkward he would feel if another woman were as close to him as she was right now, clambering over his shoulders and back like some arboreal creature on a tree, chattering in her eclectic manner about everything and nothing.

He finished marking out the dogtags, many of them were edge to edge, so he would have to be very precise with his cuts so as to avoid cutting too much from one or another. Most of them encompassed some of the extensive damage that had trapped Sharp within that megadamage-resistant shell. But that would be fine. This wasn't a job that he wanted pristine armor for, this was a reminder of how close one of their own had come to death, a reminder of how they had all come together, Wild Cards, Broadsword crews and Broo to save someone important to all of them. He put the marker down and put on his eye and ear protection.
"Beema be careful now. Hercules going to cut into Sharp's armor. Maybe dangerous, hot sparks and metal flying.", he touched the reinforced perspex goggles he had put on, then tapped his ears, "Also maybe very noisy, 'specially for strong Broo ears. Be careful."
After that, he picked a precision cutting tool with a fresh head and slowly started cutting. His plan would be to initially cut the mass of tags out of the breastplate then, once he had them, clamp them to the worktable and set about cutting each tag from the mass. After that, he would drill out holes, buff all the sharpness out of the edges and fasten them all to chains so their new owners could wear them.

 

[Purr]

Captain Hesperus

"Tayookidan means very good, very well. Number one, yes? Is it greeting like 'hello' or phrase like 'are you okay?' 'I am okay'?"

"Ehehehehh!!" Hercules can hear Beema's infectious laugh near one of his ears, then the other, then behind him, then above him as "Climb Mount Hercules" becomes Beema's One Purpose In Life.

"Tayookidan iz..." The youngest Broo pauses long enough to stare at the ceiling, "... no a question. Iz a good-say! Hurk-yoo-leez can say tayookidan and Beema can say tayookidan back! But iz how you say dat means how good.

Beema continues. "Either moment iz tayookidan," she reaches up smiling as if cheering, "or iz... rakidas!" She droops and frowns, looking glum and moonlike. Happy or no-happy! Numba One or Numba Ten! One or otha! Easy!" She ponders again. "Well... more easy den Pan-Galactic! Iz trooooo!"

"Beema be careful now. Hercules going to cut into Sharp's armor. Maybe dangerous, hot sparks and metal flying.", he touched the reinforced perspex goggles he had put on, then tapped his ears, "Also maybe very noisy, 'specially for strong Broo ears. Be careful."

"Yes yes! Beema careful! Scary Jerry teach Beema! Beema learn. You will see!!" Beema hops off of Hercules and goes straight for the gun range or rather the loading/cleaning area beside it. When she returns, she is wearing her "eyes and ears" and wearing them properly. "You see, yes?! Heheh!" She points at her goggles and noise-cancelling protection as if eager to show Hercules she's doing it right.

After that, he picked a precision cutting tool with a fresh head and slowly started cutting. His plan would be to initially cut the mass of tags out of the breastplate then, once he had them, clamp them to the worktable and set about cutting each tag from the mass. After that, he would drill out holes, buff all the sharpness out of the edges and fasten them all to chains so their new owners could wear them.

Hercules finds that not only does he have more than enough hypercarbon (the metal that makes up Mega-damage items from armor to mecha to starships) to do as he pleases, he also comes across a stash of "take some, leave some." Back during Hercules's time in the MAC II saddle, mech-techs often left whole carts of useable "scrap" gathered up along with second-hand tools for those times when it was "better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it." Though from decades into the future as Hercules knows it, he finds the Broadsword's armory flows along the same vein.

Beema stays off of the huge Greek whenever it gets loud and never tries to interrupt him. When there is a pause, the patient shaman-in-training asks. "Hurk-yoo-leez!" she peers from a safe distance at some of the results of Hercules's workings. "Iz no Kayliss. Iz no Dachisa. Hmm. Iz teeny! Urrr..." she scratches behind her ear and tilts her head in wonder. "Hurk-yoo-leez? What you iz making from dead armor? Keel de monsta trophies?"

From time to time, the snarling and firing from the gun range stops. If Hercules is of a mind to look, he finds a shadowy shapely shape staring at him and Beema and what he is doing. Her eyes are a calm soft green like lilac.

"Taymeeee!" shrieks Beema.

Taymee's movements are efficient. Her ears perk up and rotate in Beema's direction.

Beema raises her little fists and shakes them in the air. "Numba One Hurk-yoo-leez iz try speak-a Broo! Iz good, yeees?"

Taymee remains as still as the moon in the sky, a statuesque sleek-furred warrior lost in thought. Then with a nod, she lets out a satisfied "humph" and replies with a very confident sounding, "Tayookidan!"

How does Hercules continue to proceed with his crafting? What precisely does he bring to life?

 

[Purr]

Silanon

(OOC: This post is here for your pleasure. Post if you're of a mood to or simply enjoy it. No pressure - just fun!)

Not much of a choice there. One's pretty much busy with the wounded, the Swede reckons. Another still recovers from her artificial sleep, and is then supposed to save the world by her presence aboard alone. That only leaves Piper. Unless someone else would come to mind... but really, those she knows well are from the today's Earth, mostly, and that alone makes them a bad fit for this kind of call.

"Piper should do, Samantha - noone better to approach, I think. Thanks, much appreciated. Any chance you know where to find her right now, and if she happens to be busy at the moment? Don't want to disturb her with something that minor if she has her hands full at the moment - and she often does, as far as I'm aware. But if not, I give her a quick call or come around for a minute or two, whatever she prefers."

Samantha rocks from one hip to the other much like a young Southern gal might do. "Flight Lieutenant Piper is up there on the Bridge at her post. She..." Samantha becomes stock still for about three heartbeats. "... ain't busy fer the moment! If it's to yer likin', I kin put in yer request; that'll disturb her less from her duties, or you can do all the talkin'! What'll it be, mayam?"

A short pause. "And another question - you said it'd be pretty hard to read people. Was wondering whether that's a general thing for you folks, or if it's different from Samantha to Samantha, so to speak. Hope it's alright to ask. Like, I always see all of you work hard to keep it all from falling apart, but it's not easy to tell differences between you. Especially since I haven't been on board for too long. Like, I see that everyone seems to have their tasks, but couldn't even start to guess what's any one Sam's or Samantha's expertise until I see them at it."

"A general thing, fer sure!" She waves her hand in a friendly way to Ylva. "You kin ask whatever yer little heart desires."

How does Ylva want to proceed in attaining Buffett's guitar?

 

[Silanon]

"The bridge, now?" The Swede's face betrays slight confusion, but one doesn't become a half-decent pilot without some ability to adapt on the fly. "Maybe just let her know that I'm on my way, just so she's not wandering off unless duty calls. Not like this has any priority, but I'd rather speak to her in person. Feels like the personal thing that I ought to do right, and not just file in a request like it's something trivial. We're talking about someone's inheritance after all. Thanks for your help, I'll best be on my way, trying to catch her before something else crops up."

And with that, Ylva will hurry towards the familiar bridge, unless Samantha has more to add than just farewells.

 

[Purr]

"Good luck t'ya, Sunshine!" Samantha waves. If the android could wink, you'd bet she would have just now. Instead, "she" stands still for just a moment, then with a course in mind, the Samantha unit strides to her next duty aboard the Broadsword.

At Ylva's feet, a certain little bit of Trouble stands expectantly on all fours in front of Ylva as if to bar her way. "Mrrooo? Reeeeew? " In Ylva's mind, that familiar boyish voice returns in clarity no ear can match. "I kin comes wif you, right? Will you carry me?"

If Ylva agrees, she has a flopped-over napping MechaKitten on her shoulder in moments.

If there is one place that isn't too hard to find, it's the Bridge. Ylva is by the door leading inside in no time, but she does not enter it - there is no need to just now. Perhaps later. A pair of human guards, both young men whose muscles fill out their combat suits well. With at least three different types of firearms on their persons, they eye Ylva warily as she approaches.

The door to the Bridge opens and out comes a young woman wearing CVR-3 armor. Her name tag over her breast states her name. "PIPER." Her rank bars indicate she's a Flight Lieutenant.

Ylva is asked by the pair of guards. "Ma'am? Are you expected?" Right then, Ylva is reminded that the remnants of the Broadsword crew know each other quite well. Ylva and the Wild Cards are still a new bunch of faces and it shows in their grimaces as they size up the Swede.

"Sveadotter, right?" says the red-haired young woman with an accent that marks her as American-born. She might be nearly 10 years Yvla's junior - except for her eyes. Just about every human crewmate on the Broadsword has eyes belonging to someone older than they are. Like young people forced to grow up. Forced to grow by war. "Julio, Jermichael, it's cool," says the redhead. "We've got biz." With that, both young men ease off.

Piper moves like she has a purpose and that leads her right back down the hall Ylva just came down. "Sammy says you're the Wild Card Science Officer, huh?" As you walk together, Piper's green eyes give Ylva a once-over. "C'mon down with me to the battle bay. Sammy said you want Buffett's guitar. Any particular reason? No way you could'a known him - he died in the future." This last, Piper says not with the youthful grimace of someone unused to losing friends but as one who seems to know the feeling all too well - perhaps more than a person her age ought to.

What does Ylva do?