trans_9 | She Lives! [open]

Most of the ship was asleep. He could hear them, tucked away and snoring loudly in their individual compartments, disturbingly comfortable in their meaty prisons. But this was no time to be hypocritical.

Just a few minutes earlier, Dustin had narrowly escaped Yoshimi’s room after falling asleep there, successful only because he happened to wake up while she was out. Perhaps she got bored of watching him. Perhaps she finally decided to call Shitface Kirk on him while he was recovering to take him to the brig—or worse, she could’ve contacted the Major. The Major was a downright scary woman, one that Dustin planned on avoiding even if he was forced to work for her.

Whatever the reason (and whatever the consequences), he was feeling a lot better now that he’d had food and rest and a new goal to accomplish. Said goal was something that he’d noticed when he first visited the Armory to get his primary tools; the genetic identification system not only picked out his personal items, but it also found a certain vehicle down in the hangar that was of extreme interest to its owner. Though Dustin had no intention of going down there until he found Codi, he was starting to…think differently, now that the initial shock had passed. This can be explained later.

He first made a stop at the Weapons and Possessions Locker, rooting around some of the unclaimed items further back. The large, silver thermos that Dustin happened upon surely wouldn’t be missed. With his prize, he then headed up to the Mess Hall, where he received his usual water shot and a tray full of slop. Dustin scooped the pile into his thermos, pocketed the utensil he was given, and crumbled up his crunchy plate into the mixture.

And then he left for the hangar.

A while later (after a brief stop in the City), Dustin was wandering around the huge space and fiddling with his phone. Without proper tools he wouldn’t be able to completely repair it, but for now he’d managed to reprogram and edit the genetic signature grid, which at least allowed for him to detect people that he’d already contacted intimately enough to receive some DNA from. This program was actually something of a prototype; it sounded good when Dustin first thought of it, but upon activation he realized that people spread their DNA around everywhere, either through shed hair or skin flecks or other such biological shavings; therefore it was hardly useful for distinguishing a single person from, say, their hairbrush.

This new program instead concentrated on densities of DNA samples instead of individual flecks, and with a slightly modified interface allowed for a completely different view of objects. It still wouldn’t work in the Pod Caverns because of whatever Stacy had set up in there, but it would work well enough in the hangar for finding the special item in general.

It came up clear as day on the scanner—Dustin’s sweat and blood might as well be essential parts to this machine, after all—and, shortly thereafter, he’d found it.

It was a wireframe skeleton, roughly the size of a large apartment but much more sleekly designed, patched with a rough layer of specialized insulation and plating in areas; everywhere else was coated in a thick sheet of wires. Compartments here and there bulged with tools and materials, thankfully spared from being taken away with the rest of his possessions. Even Dustin’s makeshift work surface remained untouched, surrounded on all sides by clamped wires and a hastily placed welding set.

He was taken aback, unable to do much else but stare for right now. Observers might notice that his dark green eyes are eerily glinting in ways that they probably shouldn’t be.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Well, lessee, it all began about twenty five years ago," he replies, "Mister and Missus Spider-Man, they decided, as most couples do when they get to a certain stage in the relationship, to have what we call a 'baby'. Now, this involves conducting a very complicated process often referred to as 'sexual reproduction'..."

Okay, so Dustin could already tell that this was kinda hopeless. He rolled his eyes heavily and took on a more casual (if not irritated) stance, reaching for his soldering iron.

“I’m not two, idiot,” he sniffed, turning his back on this hindrance so that he could begin working on the mess of clamped wires overhead, “Now go be a pest to the other toddlers—I’m busy.”

He shrugs, "Hey, I'm not the one throwing punches at guys for asking fairly standard questions."

Peter clambers up onto the wireframe and surveys Dustin's handiwork, rifling through the various compartments and idly picking out tools.

"So, what are we building?"

Dustin continued working, sighing quietly to himself.

“I’m not the one dressed in skintight footie pajamas,” he glanced over idly as he reached for a pair of wire cutters, “Besides, you shouldn’t sneak up on people, especially ones who are in the middle of a very delicate—“

Dustin’s eyes flew open in terror.

“—WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” he screeched, brandishing the steaming soldering iron in his good hand, “This is an interstellar spaceship, not a fucking jungle gym!”

Someone’s gonna slap a bitch.

"Really? Because it kinda looks an awful lot like a jungle gym," he replies, attention focused on what must be an incredibly fascinating screwdriver, "But seriously? There are dozens of spaceships in here. Why waste a perfectly good jungle gym?"

Don't worry, I'm sure he's very light...

For once, Dustin couldn’t do a thing against this idiot. Obvious impulses told him to shoot the discourteous asshole until his face melted off, but that was imposs—erm, a lot more difficult without his gun. Besides, he couldn’t catch him with the soldering iron, not with those kinds of reflexes.

…Unless he got him to come closer. Then perhaps Dustin could get in a few stabs. That wonderful vision made him feel better long enough to regain his composure.

The scruffy man inhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. “Is there something you want from me?”

She Lives! [open]

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