trans_9 | The Time We Lost [open, post-rebellion]

Podded and popped again? Billy was less than enthusiastic, especially considering the circumstances. He'd been podded to hinder the engineers---of that, he was certain. He hadn't tried nearly hard enough to affirm his loyalty to the Daligig. Billy would really have to work on his ability to lie.

He'd shivered in the puddle of biostasis fluid, bogged down by worry and fear carried over from his last memory. What had happened, how long had he been gone? Weeks, months, years? Was there even a single familiar face still here?

At least one, his heart answered, though that little warmth in his chest couldn't tell him how he'd be received by her. He hoped there were more friends waiting. Resigning himself to the fact that he'd have to face them sooner or later (especially if she was telling people that he was awake---the last thing he wanted was anyone rushing down here to check), Billy rose to his feet and trode onward and upward.

Finally, he reached the traditional destination, the Observation Deck. As he gazed around at the strangely barren environment, that nagging sense of wrongness finally clicked in his mind. It felt wrong because it was empty. Where were the other popping crew members, where was the welcoming committee? A quick visual sweep across the room revealed no presence that caught his eye---was it his blind spot, were these new glasses not the right prescription strength? Or was everyone asleep, or...worse?

Billy knew by now that it was best to fight pre-emptive panic---his body needed the resources for when it was truly time to panic. He knew at least one person was alive. That was enough. So he settled on a small meat-chair, thinking of exactly what he'd say to the first person he saw. Where to begin? Apologies, questions...he had so many words in his head he worried he'd trip on them.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I could also help with firearm training if you wish: I'm familiar with chemical projectile weapons." Honor adds, noting down the potential of a Bridge position for later.

She cocks her head to the side as a thought comes to her, hand resting on the hilt of her sword.

"Perhaps to balance things out, you could help me practice with the sword: I've had training, but the style used for this sword back on Grayson...was rather stylized and meant for tourneys."

Although Saitō has no love for guns (and really, plenty of distaste for them), he simply nods. He fully intends to keep to the blade wherever possible, but as much as it stings to realize it, Toba-Fushimi was a clear demonstration of how easily firearms can dominate a battlefield, and with everything at stake...

For a warrior to put aside their sword, in his beliefs, is for a warrior to put aside his soul. But it's his duty to fight this, and as he told Kazama, he will do anything required of him to fulfill his duty.

He's already given up his humanity. Could this really be any worse?

At Honor's suggestion, though, the slightest flicker of a (humorless) smile finds its way to his face. "What looks flashy in a regulated match seldom has much to do with what kills most effectively on the battlefield." He can remember all too many arguments he's had about that - all too many so-called masters of their art who insisted that his choice to fight with his left hand rather than force himself to learn to use his right was cheating, that his victories were meaningless. Men who couldn't beat him.

Men who would have been dead, had he faced them in war and not in peace.

"Your proposition is acceptable, Commodore Harrington."

Billy is relieved to see that things seem to be going so well for them. He nods and clasps his hands behind his back.

"Then you'll be fine. I can recommend gun types and go over the options with you whenever you're ready. Laser guns are more precise, but some people prefer the weight of bullets. And..."

He awkwardly silences himself before he goes into an extended lecture about the merits of various guns, smiling sheepishly.

"I'll be around if you need any kind of technical help. Is there anything else you two need from me at the moment?"

"Merely some contact information for the command structure of the ship, and perhaps a bit of advice on how to use these Comms." Honor adds.

Nimitz nudges Honor with his head.

Honor blinks. "Oh, and Nimitz wishes to know if you have any celery.

[So, speed demon: want to roleplay a mutual bit of weapons training later? Trying out the Sensoriums, being all amazed at the Clarkian Tech and such?]

Saitō's final question, on the other hand...

He gestures at the haori he's wearing - the one piece of his clothing he'd been able to find in the weapons and possessions storage, and as far as he's concerned, the only one worth worrying about. But bloodstains show up a little too well on light blue.

"Is there somewhere I can wash this?"

[yessss absolutely.]

[Cool! Do you want to set it up, or shall I?]

[If you could, that would be excellent!]

[I'll do it tommorow. Very nearly first thing.]

"I'm sorry, I don't have any celery on hand, but you might find some in Hydroponics. That's where we're trying to grow food to supplant the amorphous slop we're given."

Billy takes one look at Saito's clothing and nods. That will need some help. "There's a river in the city, on the fourth level. It's our only source of running water, but I installed a filtration system, so washing shouldn't be a problem."

Nimitz perks up at that news.

Honor blinks as if listening to something, then sighs.

"Alright, Stinker: we'll stop over there after this."

The city was going to be worth exploring sooner or later anyway, so Saitō nods and gives Billy a polite bow.

"Thank you."

The Time We Lost [open, post-rebellion]

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Teh Cutest Icon

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if it's still okay! >.< I know I'm late.

Re: if it's still okay! >.< I know I'm late.

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