Ordered to report? What for? To talk about the undead? To see if they were scarred for life? Trixy sighed in annoyance as she trudged to the Captain's office. She'd cleaned the cuts she'd received from the battle herself. They were few in number and she hadn't felt like being prodded and poked in an overly crowded room that smelled like blood, sweat and alcohol. It would have renewed her desire to have a drink in a bar. At the least she was grateful none of the cuts were on her tattoo. That would've pissed her off. She pushed the door to the office open, not caring that it slammed into the wall with a loud crash. "Skeletons walking and attacking. New, yes. Scary, yes. But not enough to be scarred by them." Trixianne proclaimed loudly. "Probably created by a dark magic which we don't have to worry about any more cause we're out of the area and no one would be stupid enough to bring any of them on board. Anything else or can I go?"
"I would prefer to say those fears are unfounded, but..." Vlad's voice came from directly behind Trixy, his bright red eyes now a faint shade of pink from exhaustion. He glanced in the direction of Integra. "I would highly doubt that our vice captain would let such marvelous specimens escape her grasp." His wounds had been cleaned and a few had been stitched, but Vlad's hair was still a mess and he was without a shirt as of yet. Doctors and their fear of infections... Vlad restrained himself from sighing and leaned his long frame against the door. Despite how thin he was compared to the other males on board -even compared to some females- his marble skin rippled over deceptively lean muscle that only a true swordsman could develop. The blue bird's egg pin he'd had in his shirt was now attached to a thin chain that hung around his neck, and he touched it frequently as if to check it was still there. Vlad shuddered as he thought of those undead things again. "And dark magic may not exactly work that way. By my understanding, if it was a particularly powerful spell those things would-" he clapped his mouth shut abruptly and had the nerve to look embarrassed. "Ah, nothing. It's all just some fairy tale anyways..." But if a spell like that has lasted decades, if i am to guess the age of those bodies, and if it created that glass in the sand, as well as the blast, then we aren't dealing with a normal opponent here. Then again, who's to say the castor is still alive?
“Trixy, if you’re really that eager to leave…” Dorian began, but Integra cut him short. “No, Miss Trayburn is not excused from the debriefing,” she said, giving the quartermaster a hard stare. “Would you both please have a seat.” Dorian merely shrugged helplessly, as if to say, well, you heard the lady. “You’ll be delighted to know someone was wise enough to bring those things aboard,” Integra continued. “We’ve collected enough severed limbs and digits to reconstitute two complete cadavers for study. The specimens are currently under lock and key in the cargo bay, being watched over by armed guards, while I wait for our expeditionary idiosyncratic acquisition specialist to catalogue it all.” “Our what?” Dorian said, utterly baffled by that job title. “Edward Seymour, sir. His job is to catalog any additions to the ship’s cargo, including all of the wood we gathered,” Integra explained. "Speaking of which, we won't burn a single ounce of it until it has been deemed safe. The trees are just as worthy of study as the corpses." “Oh,” Dorian said and sat back. I didn’t even know we had a person for that. Well, you learn something new every day… “Anyway,” Integra said, returning her attention to Trixy and Vlad, “this would not be much of a research expedition if we walked away from such an opportunity. I trust you both understand. Once we arm ourselves with full knowledge of these matters, we will no longer have need of fairy tales, myths, and rumors and will develop the ability to discern which fears are legitimate and which are unfounded.”
Geof had never been happier to be aboard a ship in his life. It had been several hours, and now he was sitting in a debriefing, but still the terror of what had happened down in that forest had not abated. His hands were shaking, he was sweating and cold all at the same time, and he felt distinctly like vomiting. The image of the burning ghoul writhing in the sand after he had pinned it to the ground kept playing over and over again, every time he closed his eyes. The calm and rational thinking that had dominated him during the encounter was gone, leaving him with only the terror that he had held back. But it had made him realize several things. Firstly, he needed to be able to fight. He was fast light on his feet and quick, but he had no idea how to use a sword, or shoot a gun, and we had to admit to himself, he was not very strong. The fact that he had been able to plunge that sword as hard into the ground as he had back amazed him. He wrote it off to adrenaline. The second thing he realized was that he needed to read more Arcanian mythos. There was a wide variety in the library, but he hadn't studied it as thoroughly as he should have. Perhaps there was something there that might shed some light on what was happening in that forest. The last thing that he had realized was that something was wrong. Ever since they had landed in that forest, he had felt a kind of unease, almost like an itch that he couldn't scratch at the back of his consciousness. He had been surrounded by it in that forest, but now it felt like a distinct pull coming from somewhere on the ship. That frightened him even more.
Something was wrong. Johnathon couldn’t place it but there was a niggle at the back of his mind, it had been there since the Feyfalken had landed he realised. He’d just been too busy to notice at the time. The feeling had reduced since the ship had lifted off but it was still there. Niggling away faintly. Shaking his head Johnathon quickened his pace down the dim corridor, his open coat swishing at his heels. Perhaps it was just the recent excitement getting to him. It had been a long time since he had faced his fear of blood and it was probably affecting him, though he felt like he had made some real progress towards recovery today. While his first impression of the Captain hadn’t been the best, it had been good to be helping people in need again, and on reflection he wasn’t going to judge the man on one stressed conversation. He would get a measure of the man at the meeting. Speaking of the meeting I’d have best pick up the pace. A worker who had slipped on a patch of blood and fallen down a flight of stairs had delayed him in the medical room but he was making up for time now. It surprised Johnathon how good it felt to stretch his legs, he had been cooped up in a room full of people, wounded and not, for hours now. “Johnathon, wait a moment!” With a sigh he stopped, what is it now? Turning he saw Melissa rushing after him, a roll of cloth in her hand. “How can I help you Melissa?” he said, adjusting the straps on his lightened medical satchel, “I have a meeting need to be at.” “I know Doctor that’s why I chased you here.” She said, offering the cloth to him as she came to a stop, “Mr Albion will be needing this if he’s at the meeting.” Taking the cloth Johnathon unrolled it to reveal a plain security shirt. “A shirt?” he replied, a perplexed look on his face, “why didn’t you give this to him before he left?” In truth he knew exactly why. While he had been busy at the time with another patent Johnathon couldn’t help but notice how Vlad Albion drew the eye of nearly all the nurses in the ward, his toned marble skin having the younger ones whispering like shy school girls. “Oh you know Doctor, I just forgot.” Melissa said, a small blush creeping into her cheeks. “Forgot, right.” Johnathon replied, drawing out the last word. “I’ll see you later Melissa.” He continued, walking away before she could reply indignantly, a smile on his lips. When he finally arrived at the Captain’s office he paused as the Vice Captain spoke, a particularly mechanical women from what he’d seen. Waiting until she had finished, he then entered the medium sized room, immediately noting the round oak table. He had always enjoyed the tale of the king and his round table. What does that make us? Knights? He thought with a laugh. “I must say I find it ironic that you say that Miss Lancaster, seeing how you are seated at a table inspired by what most people believe to be a fairy tale.” Johnathon said, a calm smile on his lips. “Captain, Vice-Captain. Good to finally meet you at last.” Inclining his head to both he turned to face the others in the room, “Miss Naaru, I don’t believe we have met but I briefly read your file and saw you in the Medical Room. That goes the same for you Mr Albion though my nurses have told me all about you, here they told me you might need this.” With that he threw the shirt towards Vlad and with a nod to Trixy he sat down. He would have plenty of time to learn her name later and had already taken up to much time. He wasn’t one for the spotlight.
The vice captain watched Geof very closely. Although he hid it well, his hands were trembling slightly and there were beads of sweat on his face, despite the room being cooler than most aboard the Feyfalken. While it was possible he was in shock after the day’s events, she doubted that was the reason. Is he going to be sick? She thought, just as Dr. Kane entered and introduced himself. There was much work to be done, now that they had specimens to study; she couldn't afford to have one of her reearchers getting a weak stomach. While Integra hawkishly watched Geof, the meeting moved on. “Welcome aboard, doctor. We’re still a man short, but I suppose we can get underway,” Dorian said as he stood and went over to a side desk, where a sound recording device waited. He picked it up and set it down in the middle of the round table. After winding up a hand crank on the side, he set the needle in place, and the recorder began to slowly turn. “I’ll be including this in my captain’s log,” Dorian said as he took his seat and clasped his hands on the table. It was one of those rare moments where he actually seemed professional and fully engaged in his duties. “The way I see it, our journey began today, ladies and gentlemen. Today, the Sands lived up to their legacy and now it’s our turn to live up to ours. Some of the things we thought we knew were challenged today, so I've called this meeting to make sure everyone's still... sane... not that we were ever sane to begin with." He chucked. "Ahem... Anyway, before we get into the 'what the hell happened' part of this meeting, first thing’s first…” He looked to Johnathon. “Casualty report, doctor. How bad is it?”
“Casualty report, doctor. How bad is it?” Johnathon snapped back to attention. He had been busy discretely observing the brown haired young man with the glasses who looked like he was about to vomit. He had not noticed him initially, which was unusual for Johnathon. “Surprisingly good for an encounter with the undead.” He said, quickly going over the list of patents that had visited the medical room in his head. “At this point we have three patents in a critical condition, two of them who may or may not live. One however was in an incident not directly related to the attack. We have a dozen breaks, ranging from minor to severe and a variety of cuts and sprains.” He paused for a second to clear his throat. “I do however believe that the worst wounds, those three patents not included, are the psychological ones.” he said, eyes flicking to Geof for a second, “It’s not everyday people are attacked by reanimated corpses.”
Continuation- "I cannot however account for the dead as I am lead to believe that any corpses were diverted to research for observation. Is that correct Miss Lancaster?" Johnathon finished.
Geof couldn't help but notice that Inregra was watching him. He realized that he must look like a mess, and took several deep breath to try and calm himself down. It worked somewhat as his body temperature regulated, but there was still a tremor in his hands. And still the feeling that something was wrong. But now he had a very clear sense that whatever it was, was coming from Integra. He couldn't shake the feeling that she had something in her possession that she shouldn't, something that shouldn't be on the ship. He looked at her hard for a moment, trying to decide what to do. He decided to do nothing for the moment though. Standing up and pointing would only serve to make him look more insane.
“Permission denied,” Dorian said flatly. “You are relieved of command, Mr. Sabre… which is odd, because I don’t recall evergiving you command. I asked you to submit a report --if Vlad doesn’t make it. That doesn't give you free license to enact martial law and potentially scare the shit out of everyone. I'm touched you asked permission before doing so... but troubled you would ask permission for such a thing at all.” I also didn't see you object to me taking charge of the situation where you unnecessarily endangered the lives of the crew by putting them out in the desert before we sent a signal. The fact Dorian had ordered James body to be restrained was testament enough to the fact that Dorian acknowledged the potential danger and that everyone was already 'shit scared' as he so eloquently put it. Christoph nodded along to Dr. Kane who tried to defend his decision to no avail. It seemed positions of responsibility and protcol designed to protect lives meant little to Dorian. While he could see where the man was coming from there was also little harm in at least maintaining a short period of quarantine, especially when you weighed up the other outcome. “Well that went swimmingly, what a great introduction to the Captain.” Dr Kane said dully. “It seems we both need to adjust to working under command again don’t you say Mr Sabre?” he continued, without turning around, “it’s certainly going to be an interesting meeting that’s for sure.” "I just hope for the ships sake that your decision proves to be wrong Doctor. Thanks for defending me." He had learnt a lot today about some of the people he was on this mission with. Sadly his image of the Captain seemed to be shattering more by the second but at least his appraisal of the Doctor seemed to have held up. He toyed with the idea of honouring the Doctors quarantine order for himself but decided it was largely redundant with everyone else going about, add to the fact that he had received a verbal dressing down in front of the staff and wounded in the medical bay his ego screamed at him to get out of the room and hide somewhere where others were ignorant. He stormed his way down the corridors sporadically punching the metal walls to vent his frustration when no one was around. Time blurred more than he intended and by the time he had snapped himself out of all the choice words he wanted to yell at Dorian he realised he was dangerously close to been late for the meeting that he now apparently had no need to be at but was probably just there for a further verbal assault. He entered the Captains office and quickly took a seat silently while the Doctor finished his casualty report. He wouldn't speak until spoken to, if he chipped in to this conversation there was no telling just how out of hand he might get. He glanced down making sure his hands were relaxed and his breathing steady. He just had to last the meeting without getting riled up any further, a quick glance around the room at least told him he wasn't the only one fighting for composure. The librarian seemed to be struggling as well, he couldn't speculate well since he'd missed part of the meeting but he was willing to guess it was more likely the events rather than the meeting itself. At least Albion had made it back safely, that meant he didn't have to worry about many future dealings with the upper command chain,todays events would probably result in Albion been told to reconsider his choices despite the fact Christoph had done everything right in his eyes. He'd have to consult with Albion later who had a bit more distance, perhaps he could point out if he was been irrational. He did have a habit of jumping to conclusions after all.
“Miss Naaru, I don’t believe we have met but I briefly read your file and saw you in the Medical Room.” “Yes, I did spot you but you looked awfully busy. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She said. The Captain motioned everyone to take their places and began the recording, calling upon Johnathon to give a casualty report. Whilst he spoke, Tessa turned in her chair to see Geof sitting next to her, struggling. “Is everything alright?” Tessa whispered to Geof, placing a delicate hand on his arm. He looked feverish with sweat dripping from his brow and a trembling in his hands. Tessa could only think that the corpses had gotten to him, psychologically. But he had not seemed that traumatised when fighting them with her. Perhaps some conversation away from the undead would calm him. “I’m Tessa by the way,” She said with a smile, “Tessa Naaru. I… err – thank you for today.”
No. It can't be. His mouth went dry and his heart jumped with dread as he peered into the cargo bay. It just can't be! Last time I saw it was a years ago, and I made sure I had finished it! He swallowed, sending what felt like a fist sized rock crawling down his throat. The crates were closed, but he could see enough- enough to remember, enough to recognize, enough to realize that something was very very wrong. He'd seen that arse before. Edward Seymour was a man with standards, and among those to never sleep with the same person twice. Just think of the opportunity cost! Every second night with somebody was one fewer experience with someone new, and life only has so many decades for each person, so by all that is good Edward would never stray from his ways. A soft thud echoed through the cargo bay as the laborer set it atop an uncomfortably well-organized pile. The noise caused Edward's head to snap up as he snapped out of his trance. He blinked twice, snorted a bit, then looked carefully at the laborer with his brows furrowed. "Have I slept with you before?" The laborer's reaction was similar to what Edward's was just prior, only the laborer's included a mouth hanging agape. "Um- er- what?" "You heard me. Have I slept with you before?" Now one might believe that the laborer would attempt a different response, given that his previous one yielded poor results. However, this truth apparently held no sway as the laborer repeated his previous actions. "I don't ev- what?" "J... J... Jensen, was it?" "Um... no? My name is Birch... Terrence Birch." "Well nevermind then, I have never met you in my life. Good! Hey there champ, name's Edward Seymour the Sixth, and might I say you have a fine looking arse." Edward slicked his hair back, winked, and offered his hand. Terrence proceeded to avoid Edward's hand as if it were one of the undead's and took five steps back. "Right, Mr. Seymour. You're the, uh, expedition idiot-sinkrat choir specialist?" "YES! Indeed! Something like that, that's me! And I can expediently sink your idiot rat choir if you'd like." Another wink, and another five steps back. "Ah, um, Miss Lancaster wanted you to catalogue those as soon as possible so the research team could, well, er, research them so, uh, can you do that please? Uh, thanks." And with a quick half bow curtsy salute wave which resulted from being absolutely bewildered, Terrence was making for away-from-Edward at a pace which could only be categorized as 'brisk'. "Right. Straight to business, then." Edward sighed and pulled out a very official looking notebook. Expeditionary Idiosyncratic Acquisition LogEntry Date: Some day I don't know the date of Acquisitions: 7 dismembered hands oh crap I just wrote dismembered hands in pen that doesn't even make sense I'll just stop now 4 leg-ish things 2 heads oh god I might puke are these arms? ummm I guess 5 arms? a bunch of other body parts nails. look like ours. wonder why they're in the body parts? wood. bunch of it. End entry. Edward snapped the notebook shut and yawned. "Well, that was easy- I must be a natural!" He yawned again and began making his way to the captain's office, mildly intent on informing the vice captain of his prodigal swift handling of his job and to 'have at it' with her samples.
“I’m Tessa by the way,” She said with a smile, “Tessa Naaru. I… err – thank you for today.” Geof looked up, broken from his fugue by a gentle touch, the young woman was looking at him with concern. "I'm Geoffrey, Geoffrey Avrin," he replied after a moment. "I should thank you as well, we helped each other survive that nightmare..." He trailed off. "I'm sorry if I seen distracted," he said. "I don't know what's wrong with me." Others were coming into the room now as the captain and vice captain began to speak. Geof was barely registering them, barely registered even the contact of the woman next to him. To absorbed in his own mind to even feel him normal fluster at contact with a woman.
"I cannot however account for the dead as I am lead to believe that any corpses were diverted to research for observation. Is that correct Miss Lancaster?" Johnathon finished. "Not exactly," Integra said. "There are two dead. Their bodies are in the cargo bay, sealed and under guard until we can be sure they will not reanimate. They are under observation, as you said, but I have no intention of conducting experiments of any kind on our own men." Well, that last part wasn't entirely true. She was willing to cross that line, but only under very dire circumstances. If the secret to stopping those things lay inside one of their own, she would not hold back… but, as the situation currently stands, that would be way out of line. Someday, perhaps, but not today and not in the foreseeable future. "James Evers and Gerard Turner were both exceptional members of the security team and will be missed dearly," Dorian said, punctuating the brief silence that followed. "I am… I am pleased to know there were no further losses. I hope you will keep me informed if the situation in medical worsens or if you have need of anything further, doctor." Dorian leaned back slightly. "I am also pleased to hear there was no need for quarantine," he said, with a wisp of sadness. "For what it's worth, doctor, I agree with everything you said earlier… but, as captain, I have to take multiple factors into account. Quarantining half of the crew was simply out of the question. And who would quarantine them: the very soldiers who were exposed in the first place? Logistically, it would be a disaster. Psychologically, it would be a nightmare. "Even after the quarantine had ended, the crew would never look at one another the same way again. The threat of infection would hang over our heads for weeks or more," Dorian explained. "Seeing the undead is traumatizing enough, but at least they know they can fight that -- it's a physical enemy. Infection and disease are invisible enemies that turn brother against brother. Morale would be destroyed in an instant if you so much as mention there's some kind of undead disease going around." He paused. "So, that's why I denied your request, Johnathon. "I always put my crew's morale first because I believe a ship runs best when the men and women aboard it are happy," Dorian concluded. "That's my leadership style. I can understand if some people don't agree with it…" his gaze briefly shifted to Integra. They'd had this discussion more times than he could count. "Anyway, I just wanted to clear the air regarding that matter. If there are any other grievances, I'm more than willing to hear them." He looked to Sabre and smiled.
"Today, the Sands lived up to their legacy and now it’s our turn to live up to ours. Some of the things we thought we knew were challenged today, so I've called this meeting to make sure everyone's still... sane... not that we were ever sane to begin with." He chucked. Vladimir's gaze honed in on the captain for that, eyes narrowed. No, we were sane for doing what we were supposed to do. Whoever landed this ship was the insane one. But he bit his tongue and clasped his hand around the pin to calm down. The light winked off of the pale blue stone. "I always put my crew's morale first because I believe a ship runs best when the men and women aboard it are happy," Dorian concluded. "That's my leadership style. I can understand if some people don't agree with it…" his gaze briefly shifted to Integra. They'd had this discussion more times than he could count. "Anyway, I just wanted to clear the air regarding that matter. If there are any other grievances, I'm more than willing to hear them." He looked to Sabre and smiled. Vlad's patience snapped. "Morale is one of the top things, yes, but if it gets in the way of the entire ship's safety it becomes something else entirely." he hissed, planting both palms on the table. "I hope this is the only mistake that we make, no, this will be the only mistake that we make, because I am going to split my team permanently. Sabre has proven himself a worthy counterpart for me over the past month, and so I am going to have him work as Head of Security for the ship during any landing escapades. The ship will not land until I send the signal for it to land. This could have gone very, very badly had my team not coordinated the way it had, and followed orders as they were expected to. We are lucky that only two died." He turned his glare on Dorian, eyes blazing. He felt a strange heat begin to creep up his neck and enter his eyes, the center of it focusing in the middle of his chest -where the pin rested. "You may think to dismiss me after this, captain, but know this: I am responsible for this ship, and it's people's safety. That puts me above you in emergencies in my mind. If this happens again..." You have the papers. A deep voice murmured in the back of his mind. That gives you my protection, and permission, to mutiny if needed. Vladimir let out a breath at the memory, scraping his nails against the wood as his body suddenly chilled, his rage dissipating. Normally he would keep such powerful emotion from being seen in public, but he'd been pushed over the line in this case. He didn't want to do that, not unless he absolutely had to. It would be best if no one knew about it. "I found a map with some old runes on it. I could not make out much more than they were headed away from the Sands." he muttered, reaching back and then pulling out the papers. They seemed more frail than before, as if they were about to crumble to dust in his hands. He took note of Integra's razor-sharp gaze that had focused in on him as if he was wagging a meat bone in front of a starved dog, then slid the paper over the table. "I fear that this may only be the beginning, because whatever was out there, they were terrified of it. And for good reason."
Dorian's gaze narrowed upon Vladimir, but he let the man finish. More than a few words came to mind --some of them highly inappropriate in a professional setting-- but he held his tongue. When the pale man at last produced a map, Dorian sat back and decided it was best for Integra to deal with it from here… at least until he could calm down and not say to the man what he was thinking right now. Integra reached for the map, but paused, fetched a pair of thin gloves from her vest pocket and put them on. Then, she took the papers. Even in such a heated situation, she was mindful not to let the oils of her skin contact the papers and potentially degrade them. How does she do it? Dorian thought, almost admiring her composure. Always prepared, always considering the little things. Subconsciously, he tried to follow her example and not blow up in Vlad's face, even though the man was truly pissing him off. Don't do it, Dorian. Just keep your mouth shut. God, I need a drink… or a woman… or a woman to drink. "A map?" Integra said after what felt like an eternity. In reality, it had probably only been a few seconds. Her eyes raked over the tattered, weathered pages. "We have a library of dusty old books filled with maps of the Sands and each says something different," Dorian added, his eyes trained on Vladimir. "What's so special about this one, Rei?" "This one has notations written in ancient Arcanian. It confirms my suspicions," the vice captain replied as she set down the papers. "The dead we encountered today were an Arcanian expedition. I estimate the bodies were at least five hundred years old, though an accurate dating is rendered difficult due to certain… anomalies." Dorian raised an eyebrow and completely forgot Vladimir's rant. Well, he nearly forgot it. "I found this in their veins," Integra said, revealing a small glass vial. At the bottom was red dust, like the shavings of a diamond or crystal. There was barely a pinch of it at the bottom of the glass, but it glowed subtly with a reddish light. "There was no blood, just this. Inspection under a microscope revealed it has a crystalline structure, inorganic." The woman must have a cruel streak because she immediately looked to Geof, as if gauging his reaction. What do you want from him? Dorian thought, confused by her sudden shift of focus. Geez, Rei, the poor fellow already looks like he's going to swoon. Give him a break. Integra offered the corked vial to Geof and peered into his soul as she awaited a response. "What do you make of this, Professor Avrin?"
"What do you make of this, Professor Avrin?" Geof recoiled at the sight of the vial. It was a flashbulb going off behind his eyes. He wasn't sure what it was, or where it had come from, but he was certain that this was what he had sensed on the Vice Captain. "I- I don't know ma'am..." he stammered after a moment. "I've never seen anything like it." The burning in his consciousness was fading now, but still it lingered. "But..." he started, not wanting to sound crazy, then decided that the situation was crazy, so why should he hold back. "But I'm fairly certain that its putting off some kind of energy. I don't know how to explain this, but I knew that you had something related to the creatures on your person before you even took that out. Like I am reacting to it somehow..."
Johnathon nodded at Mr Sabre as he entered the room. From the small time that he had spent with him Johnathon had developed a good opinion of the man. "Even after the quarantine had ended, the crew would never look at one another the same way again. The threat of infection would hang over our heads for weeks or more," Dorian explained. "Seeing the undead is traumatizing enough, but at least they know they can fight that -- it's a physical enemy. Infection and disease are invisible enemies that turn brother against brother. Morale would be destroyed in an instant if you so much as mention there's some kind of undead disease going around." He paused. "So, that's why I denied your request, Johnathon. Johnathon nodded, rubbing his forehead. The niggle at the back of his mind seemed to have gotten worse but he pushed it aside. “I understand your decision Captain. I do not completely agree with it but I understand.” With that said he sat back and watched as the Captain finished speaking, his words provoking an almost violent response from Mr Albion who Johnathon had thought to be a man more accustomed to quietness. The captain must have really hit a nerve. The map Albion had revealed sparked Johnathon’s interest but the Vice Captain had taken it before he could get a better look. When she mentioned certain anomalies with the specimens Johnathon’s interests were once again perked. He had done thousands of autopsies and wondered what had got in the way of getting an accurate dating. Busy thinking about the possible options he was wholly unprepared for Miss Lancaster when she pulled out a vial with what looked like red shavings at the bottom. He flinched at the same time Professor Avrin recoiled from the vial, the niggle at the back of his mind now frantic. If he hadn’t focused on pushing the feeling to the back of his mind beforehand he could imagine the niggle would have been much worse. As Professor Avrin stammered out an answer to the Vice Captain he observed the vial. Non-organic, interesting. Looking closely at the vial Johnathon was shocked to notice that he could faintly feel some sort of aura radiating off the red shavings, so light that he wouldn’t have noticed had he not been completely focused on the vial. But I'm fairly certain that its putting off some kind of energy. I don't know how to explain this, but I knew that you had something related to the creatures on your person before you even took that out. Like I am reacting to it somehow..." Pulling his gaze away from the vial he looked towards Professor Avrin. “That might not be as crazy as it sounds.” he said, “while it appears not to be as large as yours, I’m also having a reaction to the material within the vial. It definitely feels like it is radiating some kind of energy.” “Fascinating.” Johnathon continued, leaning towards the vial as he shook his head in wonder.
The vial produced exactly the reaction she'd hoped for. Integra retracted it the moment she saw Geof's response. She knew what that sensation felt like and didn't want to overload his senses. I knew there was something odd about you, she thought. Something special. Her time in the universities, mingling with the high-minded imbeciles who liked to frequent such places had taught her there were only two types of people who studied the arcane arts. Most did it for the cultural significance; they wanted insight into how the Arcanians lived or wanted to ridicule the silly superstitions of their northern brethren. She paid such people no mind. They lost interest quickly and faded from relevancy. But then there were the rare few, like Geof, who did it because they'd seen, felt, or experienced the unexplainable; they studied the arcane arts because it had left its mark on them and there was no ignoring its presence, to turning back. Perhaps she was assuming too much, but Integra saw herself in him. Unfortunately, she also saw him as a potential threat… When Dr. Kane joined in, her gaze immediately fell upon him. "Yes, fascinating indeed," Integra said as she returned the vial of red dust to her pocket. "Until we develop a better understanding of this material, perhaps it is best neither of you are exposed to it. I have my suspicions regarding what this is, but I shall refrain from further comment until science has had its say." "What about the map?" Dorian asked. "Thus far, our flight plan has been 'go east.' It's getting old fast." Integra studied the page a little longer. Dorian leaned in as well, but the writing was in Arcanian, so she knew he wasn't getting much out of it. "What did you have in mind?" she asked. "Water," he said. "If we don't find fresh dinking water within the next 45 days, we'll have a serious health issue on our hands. The ship's filtration system can only recycle the same stuff for so long before we're literally drinking our own crap." Integra grimaced, not at the 'drinking our own crap' part but at the fact that he'd gotten the logistics all wrong. Fecal matter was diverted into an entirely separate system from the drinking water. Urine, on the other hand… "A month and a half might seem like a long time," Dorian added, "but this is a desert. We need to start looking for water before it's too late." "According to this, it's not all desert," Integra said with a nod to the map. It wasn't particularly large, but she spread it out so the others could see, and pointed to a strange formation. "There appears to be a network of rocky canyons, possibly carved by rivers. That would be our best chance for water. If I'm translating these notations correctly, it's about a week away, at cruising speed. I should, however, remind you I am yet to see a map of the sands that is worth more than the paper it is written upon. The forest we just left isn't even included here; I'm merely assuming the 'X' is where their expedition ended… and that is quite a lofty assumption, to say the least."
The meeting was finally over. Integra had stopped yapping her mouth about the wonders of the Arcanian corpses and the use they could be and everyone was clearing out. Dead was dead, Tessa told herself. All the team should have done was give these poor souls a proper burial, but instead they were to be poked and prodded for science. It didn’t sit right with her but who was she to argue with the Vice Captain. Plus, there were more important matters that she had to attend to. A nice, hot shower. With the adrenaline of the dead forest trek over and all this black sand she kept finding, it was good to know she had a little time to herself. When Integra called an end to the meeting Tessa practically ran down the corridors to her room. She slammed the door behind her and relaxed on the back for a while. Finally she was alone. The only noise she could hear was the gentle tapping of footsteps as staff walked up and down the corridor outside. Relief washed over her and she tilted her head to the ceiling and sighed deeply. What a day. Thankfully her shift was over. She started to undress, taking pleasure in the thought of that poor sap Helmsman George having to fly in a straight line for the next five hours. A smile curled on her lips and she moved across the room dreamily, spreading sand everywhere; it seemed to come out of every crease in her clothes. By the time she was naked it looked like she’d brought the Sands of Desolation on board. Not that it mattered. She stepped into the shower, staying on tip toes from the cold floor, and turned the nozzle with one hand while cupping her chest with the other. At first nothing happened. A shuddering groan came from the pipes nearby and she waited excitedly in the cold nude, rubbing her hands over her arms, trying to flatten the stiffened hairs. Suddenly the shower head shook violently and burst open like a waterfall, cascading down in steamy ecstasy. You had to hand it to Integra; she knew how to design a ship. Perhaps I can install a shower on The Phoenix. The door to her quarters clicked open, interrupting her train of thought. Perhaps she imagined it. The noise from the shower was too loud to make anything out. The door clicked closed. She heard it that time, definitely. Tessa turned her head and peered at the shower sheet. There was a shadow. Someone was in here. “Hello?” She called out, covering herself with her arms as best as she could. The water was beginning to prickle at her skin. “Sorry to interrupt, Mam.” A voice called out. “Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” She asked him impatiently, tossing her head around the shower sheet to see. Through the steam she saw a burly looking chap with what seemed to be an engineer’s uniform on. He was holding a wrench. “I do apologise, there’s a steam leak in your piping. It’s screwing with the ship pressure.” He said casually. “Can’t it wait?” “No Mam, Vice Captain ordered it fixed.” He said. Of course Integra did. It’s like she’s always watching. “Fine – make it quick though.” Tessa said returning back to her shower. The water was starting to scold now and she didn’t feel comfortable with this stranger in her room. The sooner he fixed it the better. She kept her hands around her chest just in case he decided to sneak a peek. Closing her eyes she pushed her face up into the water, clearing away all the dirt and sand and letting the droplets filter through her hair. By The Design, be done with it already. She turned to look at the shower sheet. The shadow was closer now. Much closer. She could hear his heavy breathing the other side and backed away in horror, her skin touching the iron walls. What the hell was happening? This was unreal. He stripped the sheet clean away, ripping it off the railings. There was no escape. She stood there shaking in the rain, trying her best to cover up. He looked even larger than before, shadowing out the electric light with his brooding shoulders. Tessa turned her head away and tried to scream but it stuck in her throat. The man bolted forward and grabbed Tessa by the jaw, covering her mouth. “No, no you don’t Mam.” His eyes were mad. His face dark and shiny from the water. She had never cried so much. Maybe it was just the shower. Maybe it was all her tears; she sobbed into the large hand around her mouth, flinching in fear as he raised the wrench above his head. “Y-You killed my son.” He stammered, crashing the back of her head against the wall. “You killed my son!” He repeated it over and over like a crazed mantra. He hit her head into the wall again. She could only whimper a muffled “I’m sorry” as red water began to flow down her shoulders. The man closed his face to hers. She trembled and squirmed trying to look away, but he forced their eyes to meet. This was the end. The face of death. Wide eyed and snarling like an animal. The wrench was raised high above his head, ready to strike down. “YOU KILLED MY SON!” He screamed at her. She screamed too.
After the debriefing Geof had tried to sleep. He had really tried, but every time he closed his eyes, he saw those horrible ghouls running at him, hands and mouths snapping. And there was still that feeling, like something on the ship was not right, it had gotten so strong that he felt like if he started walking, he would find it. So that's what he did. He dressed in a more traditional uniform, minus his usual tie and vest, opting instead for just the plain white button down shirt of the uniform. He didn't even bother to tuck it in, and then started wandering around the ship, for all intents and purposes, aimlessly... But he did have an aim, he just wasn't sure what it was. He had barely left his room before he felt a tug to his left, and headed down the corridor. He felt like he was getting closer, the itch in his mind growing stronger and stronger... Then he heard a thud. Whatever was... calling him, was ahead still, but that thud had caught his attention. It was right on the other side of the wall it sounded like. He could almost make out voices, a woman's he thought, and a man's. "YOU KILLED MY SON!" he heard, followed by a woman's scream. He took a step back, hesitating for a moment, unsure what to do. Then he decided, and threw open the door to the room and ran in. He saw a man with a wrench, poised to strike a young woman in the shower. It was Tessa, and blood was already staining the wall. "Leave her alone!" Geof cried. Then frantically realized that he had no weapon, neither the strength to stop the much larger man in front of him. He cursed under his breath as he cast about the room for anything he could use to defend himself, and Tessa, with. The man did not hear Geof though. The noise of the shower and her whimpers were all that he heard. He shoved Tessa to the floor with his hand still clasped to her jaw, screaming his mantra at her over and over. The wrench was in his hand, ready, and he clenched his fist tight around it. “Justice… THIS IS JUSTICE!” He thrust the wrench down upon her cracking it into her skull. The skin split instantly forming a cut so large it snaked from the forehead down to the eye. Blood splattered across the iron walls but the shower slowly washed away the crime. The screaming had stopped now. Yet somehow she was still conscious. Her eyes were heavy and her body was slumped, but she still gazed up at him – only to watch in horror as he raised his weapon again. Suddenly a heavy coffee mug impacted with the back of the man's head, shattering and leaving a large gash in his scalp. Geof jumped back shaking his hand after the impact. Then he grabbed a towel and threw it over the man's head. He didn't know what he was doing, but he knew that if he didn't do something, this beast if a man was going to kill Tessa. Geof searched around for something else he could use, pointlessly as there was nothing that would stand up to the man's heavy wrench. He remembered reading that in a fair fight between an equally skilled small man and a large man, the large man would win. Geof was clearly the smaller man, and most likely far less skilled. But this had never been a fair fight. Geof continued to cast about for something, finally registering the towel bar. He grabbed it and pulled, feeling the anchors give way a moment later, and then he swung it as hard as he could at the man's knee. The raging beast buckled, slipping over in the shower and cracking his head into the iron wall. His eyes were wide but frozen and his body was still, crumpled in the shower entrance. Tessa burst into tears. Her head felt so painful and the crying didn’t help, but she couldn’t stop. She curled herself into a ball in the corner, blood leaking from her face and head, and she could not take her teary eyes off the large man lying in her shower. She had never been more frightened in her life and even as he lay there, still, she feared him; paranoid he would rise and strike her down once more. Geof ignored the feeling of panic that was just now starting to rise in his gut as he saw the ugly cut on Tessa's face. He shut off the water, wrapped a towel around her and then lifted her up. "It's all right, you're gonna be alright," he whispered, trying to calm her down from her near hysterical sobbing. He didn't know what he should do right now, but he knew that she needed help. "It's all gonna be okay," he said again, as soothing as he could, and then carried her from the room and quickly made his way to the medical bay.
When the meeting ended, it seemed everyone was all too glad to leave. Integra tried to make her way over to Geof; she had something important to say to him, but Dorian blocked her path and began rattling off a list of things he needed her to do. He gave her about a dozen instructions regarding the safety of the samples, what she could and could not do with them, and how many security officers he wanted posted on them at all times. Dammit, man, she thought, thoroughly frustrated. Now you decide to start acting like a captain? Can't this wait? Geof was long gone. She'd have to talk with him later. With a small sigh, she focused on what Dorian was saying. His newfound interest in security proved that Vladimir's outburst had gotten through to him. He didn't seem like the same man anymore, though she doubted this change would last long. "I know you have a lot of work to do, but we need to be more cautious from here on," he said as he removed the wax cylinder from the recording device and stowed it in a drawer, but not before marking the date and time on it. "Now that you actually have specimens to study, I suppose you'll be spending more time in the lab and less on the bridge. If you need me to take over some of your shifts…" "I appreciate the offer, sir, but I find a careful balance of both helps keep the mind sharp," she said. She had three different job titles. Some people said she was overworking herself, but Integra was a firm believer that a person who could only do one thing was destined to stagnate. Her time as vice captain allowed her to reflect on the things she'd learned while researching. Her time as a researcher gave her time to reflect on the decisions she made as vice captain. Life was all about balance and reflection. Speaking of which, she really needed to find Geof… "I should go," she said, pulling away, but Dorian caught her by the wrist. "Integra," he said. "Reina." He lowered his voice as he peered into her blue eyes and asked, "Is this all my fault? He was right, wasn't he? I never should've landed until-" "You set down a mile from the forest's edge," Integra said flatly. "That is all I will say on the matter, except for this: Mr. Albion's eagerness to accept responsibility for the lives of everyone aboard this vessel smacks of arrogance. Any man who would willingly shoulder such a burden clearly does not know its weight. People will die. If he wants to be in command so badly, let him. That way, when the next man dies, it'll be on his head." "I'm the captain. I can't just pass the buck to-" "Good. Then shut up and accept responsibility for what happened today," Integra snapped. "You have two soldiers to bury and we have nothing further to discuss, captain." He glanced at her for a long while and she thought she might have pissed him off… but then he smiled and laughed. "I... umm… wow…" Dorian nervously ran a hand through his messy hair. "See, that's why you're my VC. You always know exactly what to say." Integra rolled her eyes. I knew it wouldn't last long. He gallantly gestured to the door with a wink. "After you, milady, we have lots to-" Dorian barely finished as a piercing scream cut through the air, followed by the muffled sounds of a man yelling in anger. "Shit" he said, suddenly serious again. They both darted into the hall and ran toward the disturbance. Dorian, with his longer stride, overtook Integra and arrived first. They caught a brief glimpse of someone fleeing the scene; a man turned the corner, carrying a woman in his arms. Geof? Integra thought, but it was hard to tell; she only caught a glimpse of his back. "This is Tessa's room," Dorian said, standing in the doorway. There were clear signs of struggle. The bathroom was a mess, with blood on the shower walls, and a barely-conscious man groaning on the floor. "Son of a bitch," Dorian growled and looked as if he were about to march in there and finish what had been started, but Integra blocked him. "Keep an eye on him until security arrives," she said, cool, calm, and collected. "I'll go after Avrin and the woman. I think he's headed for medical." Dorian seemed as if he was about to argue, but she was gone before he could say a word and she knew he wouldn't leave the attacker unsupervised. The captain entered the trashed room and made his way over to the man, who was groaning and trying to stand. "Killed my son," the bastard muttered as his hand groped for something to grab onto. "Bitch killed my son. Killed him…" "Unless you wanna see him again, I suggest you shut your mouth," Dorian hissed under his breath as he grabbed a discarded shirt from the bed, put a knee in the man's back to pin him down, and began tying his wrists with it. The bloody wrench and pools of crimson swirling down the shower drain made him want to draw his pistol and blow the bastard's brains out, but Dorian composed himself. The sound of approaching boots in the hall heralded the arrival of what he hoped were security officers.
Vladimir swept into the room just as Dorian finished tying the culprit up. He'd passed Tessa and Geof in the hall along with several guards, had seen her condition and immediately ordered two of them to escort them to medical and ignore any and all attempts to stop them. Then he'd rushed to Tessa's rooms, having heard Geof mutter something about a man with a wrench in her shower. Now that he saw Dorian and the culprit, Vlad's hands clenched. He should have suspected something like this would happen. He'd known Tessa was this ship's pilot. He'd heard the stories. He believed that she had done all she could, but that many people still hated her for it. How could I have been so stupid!? An itch started between his shoulders and he focused on breathing evenly. Today was not working well for him at all. Two dead, an attack by ghouls that would no doubt leave everyone psychologically damaged for who knows how long, and now this. He glanced out of the corner of his eye and noted that both of the officers standing on either side of him had hands on their weapons, knuckles bone white. "Lucky you got to here first." Vlad said, his gaze locked on the hulking man pinned beneath Dorian. He didn't even need to say what he would have done. Just that the man would be very, very dead. And maybe not even by his own hands. Then he sighed and folded both hands behind his back and looked the captain in the eye. He'd made a rookie mistake by letting a known threat go unmanaged. If he'd put a bodyguard on Tessa from the beginning this wouldn't have happened. "Sir, I've put two guards on duty with Tessa and Geof, who I passed in the hall on the way here. You have my utmost apologies for my lack of duty in this line, as I should have posted a bodyguard with her. I can assure you she will now have one at all times, but that does not excuse my lack of sight for this event. I will accept any punishment you deem fit for this." He waved a hand for the two men to grab Tessa's assailant, and after they dragged him off he remained in the room, head bowed and waiting for an answer.
Dorian wasn't sure if he was hurting the man. He pressed down hard, burying his knee in the brute's spine while the sounds of footsteps grew nearer. "Didn't want to," the big man whispered, his deep voice reduced to a whimper. "Had to stop the voices. The water made me do it." There were tears in his eyes. "The song. Make it stop…" The man began thrashing his head on the floor, as if he wanted to bash his own brains out, but Dorian tugged hard on his hair, holding the man's head back. He's lost his mind, the captain thought, just as Vladimir and two officers swept into the room. "Lucky you got to here first," the head of security said. "Unfortunately, I came second," Dorian said as he hauled the man to his feet. "If I were lucky, I'd have gotten here first." With a wave of his hand, Vladimir ordered the two men to take it from there and Dorian gladly released the suspect to them. They hauled him out of the room while he continued muttering about water and how he couldn't sleep. "Sir, I've put two guards on duty with Tessa and Geof, who I passed in the hall on the way here," Vladimir said. "You have my utmost apologies for my lack of duty in this line, as I should have posted a bodyguard with her. I can assure you she will now have one at all times, but that does not excuse my lack of sight for this event. I will accept any punishment you deem fit for this." Dorian paced a small patch of floor, his mind racing. "The next time we look Tessa in the eyes will be punishment enough… if we ever do." After a pause and a sigh, he took a seat on the disheveled bed and rested his chin in his hands. "She won't like being guarded, but I'm sure she would prefer that to the alternative." His eyes met Vlad's. "Just… make sure the guard isn't a man. I'm quite sure I recall at least one female on the security force. I want to see her personnel report before she's assigned to the task, but Tessa gets final say. If she doesn't like the person we choose, we'll find another, but she will have a bodyguard. That's not up for debate." She'll live, Dorian told himself, with his head bowed. She must live. Normally, he would run to the medical bay to confirm that himself, but, right now, his feet wouldn't respond. His body was telling him to stay here and assume the best, rather than go there and risk seeing the worst. She'll live... When Dorian lifted his eyes to Vladimir once more, there was something dark and foreboding there. "And make sure the attacker isn't harmed. Lock him in the brig and keep him on suicide watch. I need to have a few words with him later."
Christoph sat there uncomfortably as he listened to Dorian try to justify his actions and trump up some rubbish about acting for the crews morale. Morale was nice but it did little use when half your ship died as a result of you trying not to upset anyone. Tough decisions had to be made sometimes for the greater good and it seemed that Dorian may not have grasped that lesson just yet. He'd managed to hold his tongue since Dorian at least spoke well of the dead but then they locked eyes as Dorian asked for any grievancies. It was a trap, the man had justified his reasons and now he was challenging Sabre to pull him up in front of everyone so he could crush Sabre once and for all. Even knowing this he was about to rise to the challenge because someone needed to put this man in his place, for the future safety of the crew, his career was expendable for something like that. Luckily Vlad stepped in though, not only did the man voice his concerns he stepped in to defend his actions. Dorian seemed to have taken offence to the way he handled the situation but he seemed to forget two key facts. Firstly you can only handle a situation so tactfully when you are placed under quarantine and your only means of communicating is by acoustic pipes and secondly Vlad had made Christoph his second, admittedly it was only for commanding a squad outside but in his absence if Dorian fails to step up to command it fell to Christoph to implement order. It came as a shock to him even though Vlad was defending him when he was officially given a permanent promotion by his commanding officer but any thanks or argument from Dorian was glossed over by Vlad producing a map. Christoph glazed over somewhat by this point the rest of the meeting passed him by as he considered his new position and before he knew it they were rising to leave. He was tempted to pull Dorian aside and speak to him in private but decided given the dressing down Vlad had just given the man it was probably best to let the man cool off, no need to hammer over points that had already been covered or come to his own defence when someone had already done it for him. It could be covered if Dorian decided to raise disputes down the line. He wanted to get Vlad alone to thank him and discuss the days events but the man was already out of the room the moment the meeting was adjourned, he obviously didn't want to waste another minute in a room with Dorian and that seemed like a very good idea. Christoph exited the room and made his way back to his bunk for a much needed shower and chance for a bit of respite.
