The young woman who had looked after Zouichi and his siblings had taken it upon herself to instruct them in quite a few areas that were not strictly part of their curriculum -- areas regarded by many of the personnel at Toha Heavy Industries as impractical, even pointless.

Better that they should be taught one more way to kill an opponent without a sound, or log additional hours in test simulations.

( Read more... )

He shed his customary gloves, placing them on the surface of the polished black wood. Then he closed his eyes, placed his hands over the cool ivory keys, and began to play. Satie's Gymnopédie No. 1, a slow-paced, melancholy piece. He didn't know why, but playing it always made him remember the ocean. Or at least the simulated version of it; he'd never seen the real thing. The quiet ebb and flow of the tide, the breaking of each wave into sea foam upon the shore. The sea at early evening, perhaps, when all its visitors had gone home and the sun cast everything in long shadow.

Then, on a whim, he focused on summoning up an orchestral accompaniment: a crowd of black-clad musicians in which he might more easily blend in. Or maybe hide, if such a thing were possible on an open stage with a stern-faced conductor watching over all of them. For a moment, the musicians were still. Then, together, they began the first movement of Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto No. 2 In C Minor, Op. 18. It was easy, once they began playing, to simply lose himself in the swells of sound. The dreamlike ebb and flow of the violins, the rich, deep murmur of the cellos, the brassy reports of the trumpets, the clear, concise flurry of the flutes. Fascinating, the way the sounds of so many different individuals could come together to create a coherent narrative.

It was too bad he'd never get a chance to play with the real thing.

Not that Mindy ever really HAD a room, really: most of the times she tended to sleep where she would be left alone. Where she was right now was the Sensoriums, and she was atop a skyscraper, one of the more guilty pleasures she'd never indulged back in NY. She overlooked a barrage of colors (no stars in the sky of course) and sighed. The mission, though she had not shown it, had actually taken a toll. She knew she should have been sympathetic to the clones, slavery and all, but honestly it was hard for her to care about things aside from the ship and its people, and even that was really segregated to a few people.

And one of those people she thought had been killed for a short time, and that feeling had felt too real. She didn't have tons of friends on this ship, but the few she had, she wanted to at least keep. She didn't need to have those very few killed too.

Not again.

That coupled with that fight with Lash's simulation before made it clear: she needed to get stronger, faster, think more spontaneous. She hoped she could find Negi soon, and then she could ask him directly about those delayed spells: if she has to pour her ass through tons of Latin, or subject herself to pains, she'd be fine with that. She needed her edge, and that included gaining that "chi" the Overlord was talking about.

For now, she was practicing the moves Chase had taught her, a little bothered she hadn't seen him in awhile. Really, she could use any of her teachers right now, someone to spar with, even one of her friends.

"Where's...that...damn viking or afro girl when you need them?" She muttered, bringing out her stick and flipping back before she parried with the air.

If there is one thing a lot of people don't like in life, it's the feeling of helplessness. The idea of wanting to help in someway, but being unable to.

This can even extend to god-like beings. Especially when they can't do a thing about their situation.

With Sasami asleep, tuckered out from her training and various jobs she's taken up, Tsunami took the time to appear and wander the City. It was probably the only thing she could do. Her amazing power was locked down, there was no sign of the ship that held her tree and she wasn't sure if Sasami could restore her former power in time for something big to happen. As she is now, being attacked would probably mean the end of her and probably the rest of the Juraian race should anyone else awaken...

For the moment, though, she shoved that aside, wanting to focus more on her surroundings or anyone else who wanted to meet her. Hopefully, they won't be TOO nosy.

Medical Bay had a habit of being busy, and upon the return of some of its members (including the head of Medical Bay) from Galilee, things only got busier. Most the tech needed to be pieced out, but some of it was usable. Discussion of making those small technologies replicable and training people in Med Bay in how to use them was only one topic on anyone's mind.

After all, there'd been a Pod Pop in the interim, which could mean more people coming into the Medical Bay. Not to mention, discussing ideas of how to work better as a group, in light of events on Galilee.

[ ooc: Log's open to mingling for medical workers or those interested in learning; it will have one subthread designated for nursing training with Rory, another for those wanting to make IC connections for further training, and one for general discussion of things those working in Med Bay may want to see. ]

They'd gotten back. In the end, that's all it felt like. A group of thirty had gone to a planet, have things gone poorly since being greeted, then found themselves lied to, exploded, and abducted in the same twenty-four hours. Then they'd set up a confrontation that'd taken days to reach fruition, broken into teams to achieve mission objectives that were, at heart, still not entirely the mission, and ended up in a fight involving clones of themselves, clones of people on Galilee, and the clones who ran everything under the guise of not having been clones at any point at all.

Here she'd thought Orochimaru had come up with a convoluted way of attaining immortality.

Still, they were back, she didn't have any official duty to file anything, she ached and hurt like hell, and after the shower she'd just taken (she'd discovered far more bruises, nicks, cuts, and really taken a look at the big burn on her upper thigh) she was ready for some selective downtime before reporting back in for duty at Medical Bay proper. She figured she needed to look at the Active Crew registry, too, after hearing mention of a recent pod release.

It just felt like effort she wanted to postpone spending for a good half hour nap or something, to take the edge off the uncertainty of walking into open combat with this group of misfits in the future. They'd survived, but they'd been lucky. No one'd been unscathed, and they weren't even facing the Ohm. Four days on one world, and this is how they'd come out?

Walking gingerly into her room, towel wrapped around her, she contemplated reviewing the files Kanner had left on the datapad she'd found in her medical kit. Different from any of the ones they had on ship, but there none-the-less. Actually...

Sakura looked over to the medkit itself, part of what she'd dragged back without paying attention once everyone had been sorted out to where they needed to be. It reminded her to do the responsible thing and finish dressing her wounds, if part of her grumbled and knew that the only reason she wasn't doing this in Medical Bay was a stubborn wish to be disassociated from the alien (familiar, she couldn't lie anymore) environment for a little while longer. "I hate breaking new boots in."

Yes. Focus on the simple realities. "The blisters you get are so annoying." She moved toward her bed after closing the door firmly behind her.

One of the people grateful for the return of crew members from Gailee was one very worn out Dean Winchester. He was barely getting by but forced himself to push through while Security was short handed, and down one of the co-heads. Upon Dick's return, he sent him a weary 'Welcome back, tag you're it.' message on the comms before leaving his notes for the threat database he'd been compiling where it was easily accessible to him. He debated heading to the Tavern, but that meant people, especially certain people. The Impala was in the Hangar, but so was Serenity so that was out too for now. He finally decided on making his way to the Beer Tree in Hydroponics, and flopped down on the grass underneath. He had grabbed a few bottles, and proceeded to crack the first open.

A few hours later, there was a small collection of bottles nearby, but Dean wasn't even close to being that drunk. To be honest, he didn't have much urge for anything at the moment. He'd have to get back eventually but right now, he wasn't moving or doing one damn thing.

Just felt empty and hollow. Like a shell or (vessel).

 After the near-disaster the mission had turned out to be, Ildraniath needed time to think. She needed to unwind - everyone needed that, even Eldar. She had entered the media library and to her surprise, had found a large collection of Eldar music. Some of the more famous works ever created were there - haunting, ethereal, beautiful music that the mon-keigh could never hope to match in their lifetimes. Mozart, Bach, Weber? Children bashing at the keyboard in comparison to this.

Well, at least those were her thoughts on it. 

She had settled into one of the seats in one of the media rooms and despite the urge to curl up, she did not. Instead, she sat straight, arms and legs folded, eyes closed as she listened and remembered her real home, now gone. Possibly never to return. She let the music wash over her and through her (and remembered, vaguely, a time when she had aspired to create such beauty with her own hands and mind). She let out the frustrations and the exhaustion.

For now, she could relax. 

He hadn't expected to find it. Not here. It wasn't important. It didn't turn into a robot or do anything particularly special except take people from one place to another. But all the same, it was here. Jaime looked at the worn truck his father had driven for years, the one that had vanished in a ball of flame when the Reach had blown up his old house in an attempt to destroy his family. He clambered into the bed, touching at the worn paint. And looking at that truck, feeling it under his hands, it hit him like a ton of bricks.

He was alone. Very alone. Only one person he really, truly knew was here, and that was Paco. Sure there was Tim and Kara and the others, but it wasn't the same. Not the same as family. he could still see Milagro and her smile, the brightest smile that he could think of, even when she was a little pill. His mom, nagging at him to make sure he got his homework done before going out to save the world, supporting him through all the danger and stress that this life put him through. His father, telling him that he was a good man, even when he couldn't possibly save everybody. The worst part was that he didn't even know for sure. Were they in the pods? People said they probably were but there was no guarantee, no way of checking on them. They could be gone, all of them, erased from existence.

He teetered across the truck and sat heavily against the back of the cab. With a quiet sob, he put his head in his hands and very quietly began to cry, shoulders shaking.