"What am I missing out there?" She can hear them joking around a bit and wishes she could participate after the nasty wakeup call. Jacq stays in the room though, continuing to check on the "patients"--if Alec says she's a doctor today, she'd better do her job. She addresses the woman if she's still alert. "Didn't get your name, ma'am. And what happened here?"
The woman is in a state of catatonia , her expression far off, and probably in shock. After a few moments, she turns towards Jacquelin and shakes her head, some tears streaking down her cheeks. "We...were going through some questions...the doctor he was askin them. As he was talking to me...I started to cry, I don't know why. The doctor was trying to say nice things to me to make me feel better...and I guess it was at that time...", the woman sobs for a moment and then continues, "Roberts...he jump the guard and took his handgun...and shot him. In the head." More tears stream down the poor womans face, and she shakes her head side to side as if to shake something out of her mind. "After that...I don't remember, things got very hazy."
Within a few minutes, medics arrive at the scene to take you to a nearby medical bay to get checked out and treat any injuries you may have received. They also ask you a series of questions, something reeking of a psycological evaluation. Apparently you passed, and so they patched up Mikhail, gave you some aspirin and water, and sent you on your way to get dressed.
Your old quarters, which are your units quarters, were just as you left them, although a noticable lack of dust and cobwebs signified that at least the cleaning crew didn't go crazy or slack off during the eight year voyage. Quickly gathering some of your clothing, you head towards one of the smaller debriefing rooms to meet with Commander Martin.
After only a few minutes of walking down the halls of the Gilgamesh to orient yourselves, you quickly find the debriefing room. Inside, the chamber has the same look of the previous room you woke up in and the corridors you passed through, but contains several rows of seats facing a desk and podium, as well as a circular holographic display in the center. Looking down intently at the holographic display stands Commander Martin, whom you recognize from the past. He is a man in his late forties, with graying, black hair, a stern, rock hard jaw, and a discerning gaze. Six other heavily armed guards are in the room as well, showing the markings of Martin’s personal retinue.
He gives all you an appraising look before starting. “Welcome back, soldiers" says the commander with a weathered grin, "its been a long time. I just spent the better part of my forties circling this godamn solar system, and am ready to head home."
'Real clothes! Finally! No more paper-towel scrubs!' since the stop was only long enough to get some real clothes on, Zaviera showed up to the briefing, wearing a pair of monochrome fatigues in the UNSF gunmetal gray and the standard form-fitting (but supporting) shirt in indigo, covering her to her wrists, and what looked like a watch in black steel. Her cover was in her hand, her short hair hanging loose. On the end of her collar was the silver pin of a heater shield, the UNSF emblem raised in the center.
It felt good to be up and moving again, not that she remembered being out of it, just the going to sleep and waking up part. Her sidearm and equipment stayed where it was-- in her room --since this was just a briefing. At the commanders welcome, she saluted, grinning. "Done with the R&R, Commander, sir?"
"Sir," Alec salutes crisply. "I just spent the better part of a decade with my balls flash-frozen, and I agree--I'm ready to head home too."
His answering grin is actually somewhat warm. The impudence in his smile suggests that he rather likes the graying Commander Martin.
He relaxes with his arms crossed against his narrow chest. He is dressed in an olive green flight suit, unbuttoned down to the waist, displaying a crisp white t-shirt beneath. He wears a faded navy blue baseball cap on his head, brim facing forward. The legs of his flight suit are tucked into shining black combat boots. Around his waist is buckled a tool belt hung with the bare essentials from his mechanical and electronic tool kits--screwdrivers of varying sizes and shapes, a pipe-wrench with black tape wrapped around the handle and "ADM" scribbled on the tape in white Sharpie, bolt cutters, a Portable Glow Lamp etc. His combat knife (if one squints, they can see the words "Duke of Earl" stitched into the leather sheath) is strapped to his upper left thigh, and beneath the shadow of his cap brim, the dark blue lens of his Heads Up Display gleams silently.
Really, he looks for all the world like a man who is about to leap into a scrap pile and build a car.
William gives a measured salute, "Commander." is all he says before taking his seat, awaiting the debrief.
William is dressed in black fatigues neatly pressed and tucked, on his belt is small black case that carries intellipicks, on his right forearm is a gauntlet style unicom with motion sensor LCD and a knife handle is visible poking out of the top of his well polished boot.
Mikhail snaps a salute beside Alec, "Time for the action then? That is why I pilot Ajax."
The marine stands at military attention beside his mechanic. He is wearing a matching flight suit, but his is dark gray instead. An empty pistol holster is slung across his chest. The firearm resting safely where he left it in his trunk at the quarters. Mikhail's knife is sheathed under the gun holster, easy access for a pilot.
The florescent light reflects weirdly off of Mikhail's eyes. He now has his comforting display contacts in. To an outside observer they appear a reflective black, similar to sunglasses. In reality they cut out the glare of light sources and provide constant update of technical systems linked to them.
Jacq is wearing her standard issue UNSF fatigues as well, along with her equipment vest, which she's made sure at least has her medikit and rejuve caps in easily accessible pockets, after what they've been through. Her combat knife is secured in the knife sheath at the bottom of the vest.
She straps on her wrist comp and HUD glasses, and fiddles with the comp occasionally to see if it's still working well (and if the batteries are holding up). She stops fiddling long enough to give the commander the requisite salute.
"Oh I'm more then done with RnR, specialist Zamora", says Commander Martin. He smiles at Alecs comment saying "Your balls frozen...probably the worst idea I've ever heard of, Macgregor. You trying to jeopardize the entire human race and attempt to propagate? You selfish SOB", says Martin with a grin. "Don't worry, Manougian, you'll have plenty of time to stomp on things once we get down to Terra...hopefully." The commander salutes each and every one of you, and once all of you are in the room, he begins his briefing.
"I’m here to brief you on the upcoming 'Operation: Homecoming', one that you have trained for for quite some time. Due to being in stasis, you may have some difficulty with memory or cognitive thinking. If that’s the case, feel free to ask questions as needed, although the doctors have informed me that your awareness and memories are pretty remarkable, especially for someone being in the deep freeze for so long. As you have seen, not everyone manages to adjust properly, and one of your own unit is still undergoing major psychiatric evaluation. Hopefully specialst Halson will be able to join you all. That being said this is an important operation and I’ll need you all at your best.” Martin pauses for a moment in anticipation of any questions.
Alec scoffs with a smirk, but keeps his peace, leaning against the wall and cocking one leg against the other, keeping his arms crossed. With the heel of his hand he tips the brim of his cap back and watches the commander, sparing sideways glances at either side of him at his companions, as if mutely assuring himself that the morning's vigorous exercises had not caused any permanent damage.
Oh, stop it. You're the one that's fragile. Knock it off, spaz.
William waits patiently for Commander Martin to continue.
“Let me just give you all a brief run down of what I know so far. First off, Project: Seed appears to have been a success; as we speak the Ark is carrying us towards Terra, which we should reach orbit within the next two weeks. According to our calculations it is currently the year 3498 and over a millennia has passed. We don’t know of the current status of Terra, but we do know that the time travel theory has proven sound, as only six months of time has elapsed aboard the Ark. Currently the other ships in the fleet are defrosting multiple teams of specialists such as yourselves to reconnoiter the planet in an attempt to gauge the level of recovery it is currently in…if at all. You will be assigned to handling the east coast of North America, but in the meantime you will be spending the next two weeks getting back up to speed. What this means is an ever-increasing intensity of training and physical therapy. By week two you should be your old selves again…hopefully. You’ll be wrapping up your training with a final exam, which will be a virtual assault on a fortified compound.” With that he pauses for a moment and then continues. “Any questions?”
"Lovely. Sounds like I'm going home." Jacq shakes her head. "Sir, will the Ark be able to scan the region we'll be assigned to? I'd like to be able to look at sat pics if I can before we leave.
"And while we're at it, are you able to pick up any transmissions from Terra? Active satellites or other noise?"
"Lovely. Sounds like I'm going home." Jacq shakes her head. "Sir, will the Ark be able to scan the region we'll be assigned to? I'd like to be able to look at sat pics if I can before we leave.
"And while we're at it, are you able to pick up any transmissions from Terra? Active satellites or other noise?"
Martin pauses for a moment, his face thoughtful, as if he is searching for the right way to address the question. From what you remember of him, Commander Martin was always a straight forward, old fashioned soldier who preferred blowing up things to subtle maneuvering. "Yes, specialist Serra, the Ark will be scanning the planet for any signs of activity. As for transmissions, we have not received any since we left, as I don't think they would be willing to communicate with us. As for our current situation, we have sent some communications to Terra, but we have yet to receive any reply. We're not even sure that a satalite network is still in place around her. Either way, we'll find out soon enough. What we do expect is a possible battle with the remaining nations, if they do exist. They will most likely not give up their sovereignty to us...if they even remember we exist."
"I understand. Though all due respect sir, I think we should be worried more about who's alive before we worry about who wants sovereignty." Jacq remembered one soil and plant analysis after the other. They had all said the same thing: Terra had been dying. 1,000 years was a good amount of recovery time for the earth but she knew it would be very hard to tell what was going to be down there.
"I understand. Though all due respect sir, I think we should be worried more about who's alive before we worry about who wants sovereignty." Jacq remembered one soil and plant analysis after the other. They had all said the same thing: Terra had been dying. 1,000 years was a good amount of recovery time for the earth but she knew it would be very hard to tell what was going to be down there.
Martins expression grows a bit more stern and says "I understand your concern for the well-being of your fellow man...humans, specialist Serra, but from what we expected of Terra's degradation, we don't really expect much to be left down there as far as human life. If there is, it's probably not in good shape. Our main worries are that humans did survive and possibly continued to flourish...which would mean that the planet may have not healed. But, if the lack of communication from Terra is any sign of what to expect, I suspect that humans no longer inhabit the planet anymore."
"Is it too early to tell if the nations brought out the nukes?" Mikhail asks curious. It always seemed a nuclear holocaust would be the last breaths of the world's military.
What type of training do you have planned and how closely can we simulate Terra here in space... also have our scientists given any thought to a de-evolved human population and what that might look like with a 1000 years elapsed.
"Is it too early to tell if the nations brought out the nukes?" Mikhail asks curious. It always seemed a nuclear holocaust would be the last breaths of the world's military.
Martin nods in agreement at Mikhail's comment. "This is entirely possible, Manougian. That could explain the lack of communication from Terra and at the time of our departure there were plenty of nations, if you could call them that, armed with ICBM's. There is a very good chance that they just blew themselves to the almighty.
What type of training do you have planned and how closely can we simulate Terra here in space... also have our scientists given any thought to a de-evolved human population and what that might look like with a 1000 years elapsed.
A look of some irritation passes over Martins face as he answers, "I'll let the eggheads decide the reprecussions of the evolution or de-evolution, if there exists such a word, of the human species on Terra...if you can even call them that." His expression returns to normal as he address the forthcoming training, "The training will be conducted in a VR simulation chamber, where you all, and hopefully your teamate, Mr. Halston, if he recovers from his dementia, will make an assault on a fortified compound. The details will be worked out later, in about two weeks if I'm correct. You'll receive a full briefing once we've gotten to that point."
V...R...? Ah yes... I remember now. Very well Commander, I am ready to begin training as soon as you deem fit.
"Actually sir, what I was getting at was more along the lines of Mikhail's question." This isn't quite true; Jacq certainly is concerned for her fellow human beings, but she also has a practical aim. "I'm not clear on what we should be prepared for--are we a survey team, a recovery team, or we going to war?" She figures his answer will probably be "all of the above" but she might as well ask.
She turns to William. "I hope to run some numbers on that myself once my head's a little clearer." Back to Martin. "With your permission." Jac is recalling a bit of a love-hate relationship with authority.
:
“I shall look forward to your results” he says to Jacq “and if nukes were involved as Mikhail suggests their may be mutations as well, it's possible we may find something that won't be perceived as human... pure speculation, of course.”
V...R...? Ah yes... I remember now. Very well Commander, I am ready to begin training as soon as you deem fit.
"Well you have two weeks from now to shape up and reorient yourselves before we reach Terra. Then you'll undergo your 'test'", says Martin.
"Actually sir, what I was getting at was more along the lines of Mikhail's question." This isn't quite true; Jacq certainly is concerned for her fellow human beings, but she also has a practical aim. "I'm not clear on what we should be prepared for--are we a survey team, a recovery team, or we going to war?" She figures his answer will probably be "all of the above" but she might as well ask.
She turns to William. "I hope to run some numbers on that myself once my head's a little clearer." Back to Martin. "With your permission." Jac is recalling a bit of a love-hate relationship with authority.
Sense Motive (untrained): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8
Martin nods his head in agreement and smiles at Jacquelin's comments. "Well Serra, that's the beauty of being a reconnaissance unit. You get to tell us what to expect. You are, for all intensive purposes an 'everyman' unit, as in you have to do the job of everyman...or woman." Martins smile fades quickly. "Fact is, you're job is to find out what the situation on the ground is, and based on the information that you all gather, high command will decide what to do about the situation. You will need to be ready for everything, so fluidity is a must. What's going down there will determine your future actions. Is that clear? And I ask this of everyone."
Alec listens to the speculative back-and-forth without much surprise at first, his eyes flitting from one person to the next as they speak. Finally, he pushes himself away from the wall.
"Commander, I know as one of the 'eggheads', maybe I'm going a bit beyond my reach here," he uses the word in parentheses with his hands. "But there's a reason people may not recognize our sovereignty. A quick jaunt around the solar system for us is fifteen generations for them. The satellites around the planet could have suffered orbital decay and burnt away. I mean--and this is unlikely here, given the nature of the place when we popped starside--but what if we land there, and it's actually a pretty kickin' place? Y'know, instead of THUNDERDOME we find...I dunno, friggin' Alderaan down there or somethin'? And suddenly we're the invaders and we're the bad guys?"
It doesn't take a sense motive check to realize that the idea bothers him a great deal.
Mikhail is shocked by what Alec suggests. The thought had not occured to him that perhaps mankind on Earth would have solved their problems with such a large population drop. What if abandoning Earth to fend for themselves had been exactly what was needed. Maybe the returning Ark fleet isn't able to communicate with the new populace of Terra because our technology is out of date. This is all a bit much for Mikail and he really would prefer to be practicing his aim at a target range in the comforting confines of the Achilles suit. "Huh...what if Alec is right? Maybe we are out of date."
"Crystal clear, sir."
She looks at Alex and Mikhail sympathetically. "Well, we won't know one way or the other 'til we get there. We'll just have to be as ready for peace as much as anything else."
Alec listens to the speculative back-and-forth without much surprise at first, his eyes flitting from one person to the next as they speak. Finally, he pushes himself away from the wall.
"Commander, I know as one of the 'eggheads', maybe I'm going a bit beyond my reach here," he uses the word in parentheses with his hands. "But there's a reason people may not recognize our sovereignty. A quick jaunt around the solar system for us is fifteen generations for them. The satellites around the planet could have suffered orbital decay and burnt away. I mean--and this is unlikely here, given the nature of the place when we popped starside--but what if we land there, and it's actually a pretty kickin' place? Y'know, instead of THUNDERDOME we find...I dunno, friggin' Alderaan down there or somethin'? And suddenly we're the invaders and we're the bad guys?"
It doesn't take a sense motive check to realize that the idea bothers him a great deal.
1d20+1
Martin clearly looks disturbed by Alec's proposal, nodding his head slowly as he exlains his theory. "That is a very imaginative theory, MacGregor. Unfortunately those 'eggheads' from the 'World Scientist Committee' would say otherwise. They seem to think that the world will be completely devoid of human life, due to the downward spiral Terra was on. I myself could care less. My job is to make sure we get the intel needed on the status of the planet, and then let high command decide what to do. That's all we can do at the moment."
"Huh...what if Alec is right? Maybe we are out of date."
"I very much doubt that, Manougian. The ability to enact violence is never out of date. We have a claim on Terra, and by god if those that are left on there say otherwise, we will take whatever action is needed to ensure the safety of our billion plus strong citizens and I did not spend the last eight years of my life sittin' and spinning' for nothing."
She turns to William. "I hope to run some numbers on that myself once my head's a little clearer." Back to Martin. "With your permission." Jac is recalling a bit of a love-hate relationship with authority.: 1d20+2
"I don't see why that would be a problem, Serra. I'll check with the scientist assigned to that project to see if I can get you some information", says Martin.
Sorry Jacq, missed that questions earlier.
Flushing, looking a little embarrassed (perhaps speaking in front of crowds isn't one of his strong points), Alec shifts the brim of his baseball cap a little lower, fishes a packet of toothpicks out of his pocket, tears it open and pulls one out. He slips it between his lips and chews on it idly.
"Awright, awright...but if anybody...ANYBODY says 'two men enter, one man leave', I quit the squad." He grins rakishly.
Mikhail reaches over and thumps Alec in the arm. "If I catch you riding Ajax calling us Master/Blaster I will crush you."
Alec rocks back a little, rubbing his arm. "You bloody huge Russian. If you're going to threaten me like that, you have to say 'I must break you.' It's a requirement."
He pauses, chewing his toothpick thoughtfully, then sighs and leans over towards Zaviera and Jacquelin, adding conspiratorially under his breath. "Two Lundgren references in one day. My mind must be slipping as my twenties roll on."
Zaviera smiles at the banter going on, but does not contribute anything, finding the situation pretty understandable. They return, evaluate, and find (or make) space for those that will be returning. The return was pretty inevitable, most likely. Putting the beret onto her head, she does not even crack a smile as she murmurs over to Alec, "'Thousand and twenties'. You're perfectly legit for going senile momentarily..."
He does his best to look grossly offended, but it doesn't hide the sparkle of good humor in his eyes. "At least we kept our looks, right? After the first two or three centuries, I hear the complexion really goes to hell."
The next two weeks, which are filled with constant training and therapy, pass rather quickly aboard the Gilgamesh, and in that time you slowly recover from the effects of being in cryo-sleep for so long. Aside from your squad-mates, you only see a handful of people aboard the ship, as the rest are in stasis, awaiting the return to Terra, but that still does not ease the feeling of living aboard a ghost ship.
Every few days you meet with your immediate superior, Lt. Rolheim for any updates as to the state of your units’ progress, and these tend to be very cut and dry affairs. The lieutenant is a distant, but very dependable man, who is a very 'by the book' leader, but is somewhat lacking in imagination when it comes to unorthodox situations. In fact the constant training, while good, is somewhat mind numbing after a point, and you can’t shake the feeling of being isolated and disconnected.
Jacq will train and also "run those numbers" she said she would about projecting different scenarios on what the state of human life might be right now. Given her areas of expertise, she's more likely to approach it from the angle of judging how much destruction vs. how much nature might have retaken over during the last thousand years and judge what quality of life would have been and would be now, more than do a direct evolutionary analysis (human beings aren't going to biologically evolve much in only a thousand years anyway).
If they're given any spare time, she will also try to get a game of cards going.
Alec spends the majority of his time in the garage of the UNSC Gilgamesh, bulldogging the Ajax out of storage. He gives it a critical once over, then calls over the engineers in charge of the last few years of maintenance and gives them a royal chew-out the likes of which they will tell to their grandchildren with terror in their eyes.
The next four days are spent in a nigh sleepless flurry, taking the mech apart from top to bottom, oiling her parts, rewiring her, optimizing her interfaces and making sure that all her weapons systems are at peak operating efficiency. During this time he seems to be at his engineering best--a radio sitting kitty-corner on his workbench plays out a constant stream of Fats Waller, Billie Holiday, Thelonious Monk, Annette Hanshaw and others. Should anyone peek into the garage at this point, they'd see him, probably splattered with oil and working intently with wide, puppy eyes with a screwdriver sticking out of his mouth and a cup of coffee near his elbow, balanced on an open service plate. Should they stop by for a word or two, he gladly offers them a cup of coffee, or a shot of his Grinnin' Graham whiskey, which miraculously has survived the trip.
Once the Ajax is in peak combat condition, he asks Mikhail to pick a color set, paints the mech over again, and adds one piece of his own personalization: a 'tattoo' of sorts, a stamp on her upper right arm, reading simply "LUX AETERNA".
With the Ajax once more serviced, Alec finally submits himself to sleep and emerges freshly showered and shaved (looking surprisingly half-decent when he takes the time to comb his jagged hair, take a razor to his face and button up the top of his damn flight suit). He then spends his time going over his weapons (and everyone else's, with their permission) to see if there is any way he can upgrade them or improve their performance somehow. In his spare time, he relaxes in his quarters, tackling his next language (Mandarin Chinese) and joins in on Jacquelin's card game to spend more time with the rest of his squad.
Zaviera spends the two weeks pushing herself back into shape with conditioning, not that she (theoretically) ever lost it, training with all the weapons that would be available to them on their mission. When not excersing, she spends some study time on tactics, and a little time handing Alec tools while he works, trying to pick up what she can. Most of her mechanical experience was limited to very small things, like disassembling weapons, and not many of those.
She's there, front and center at the card game every time. At the end of the two weeks, it was practically a daily ritual.
Zaviera's aid in the garage is met with a certain surprised and warm enthusiasm, and he tends to smile more often and grin sarcastically less on those brief occasions. When he finally finishes--before he collapses into his quarters after his feverish stint of work--he steps back and admires the overhauled Ajax.
"Lux Aeterna..." he mumbles, cocking back the brim of his hat with the grease-smeared heel of one hand. "'Eternal Light'. And that's kind of the idea, right? Returning to Earth to bring back the light...?"
His voice lacks the characteristic jibes of sarcastic humor, instead being introspective and thoughtful. Perhaps a byproduct of exhaustion, perhaps some other, foreign element. Difficult to tell.
Mikhail will spend the time with Alec helping to troubleshoot the piloting systems of Ajax. Even when the suit is in pieces he's got his arm on one control or another testing every servo and response. The ever present music grates his nerves a little but he concentrates on the work mumbling to himself, "Alec I will never understand your love for classical music."
When the suit is completely overhauled and repainted in a snazy blue and white Mikhail spends hours doing what he refers to as pilot meditation. Yoga and precision based movement exercises designed to familiarize the pilot with the physical locations of the suit. After all that time asleep it is like remembering how to walk and breath.
Each day of work brings Mikhail closer to maintaining the correct spatial awareness between himself and the Achilles. It is not unusual to walk into the garage and see a 4,000 pound suit in the peacock position reaching out to move one of the ammo crates stacked like jenga blocks.
During the card games Mikhail always maintains a dour expression. Despite all his efforts he is terrible at gambling.
William spends most of his time running VR simulations of demolition runs, stealth infiltrations and target practice (pistol and light assault rifle) as well as exercises/stretches to get limber, lean and mean.
He also spends a good deal of time in meditation to shut out the thoughts of others that sometimes intrudes in a psychic babble that floats throughout the ship, while his nights are spent observing the card game, tuning into each of his commrades minds, strengthening his psionic rapport with the squad.
During one of their nightly card game, Alec doesn't show up at first. It's not until about fifteen minutes into the game when he strolls in, wearing a white t-shirt tucked into a pair of faded bluejeans and a pair of red sneakers. A hunter green over-shirt covers his torso, and for once he goes without his baseball cap, but he does carry a book: ADVANCED MANDARIN CHINESE, VOLUME IV under one arm. He seems to be in fairly good spirits as he skips a beat with his feet; ba-da-CHA-ba-da-CHOW!
And wonder of wonders...he's singing. Nothing amazing, but not too bad. There's some soul there, at least, and not a hint of embarrassment.
"I say I'll move the mountains," he sings to Mikhail, clapping him warmly on both shoulders. "And I'll move the mountains...if she wants 'em out of the waaaay..."
He slides over to William and gives him a dapper salute and a wink. "Crazy she calls me..."
He whirls to Jacquelin and nudges her gently with his elbow, nodding cheerily. "Sure, I'm cray-zee...."
He sketches a florid, gentlemanly bow to Zaviera, one leg extended and eyes closed. "Craaazy in love, I'd say!"
Sliding into his customary seat at the card table, he sets his book down and crooks his elbows on either side of it, scanning the four of them with raised eyebrows. "Sorry I'm late, guys. Field strippin' my nine mil, checkin' to see if I could improve it in some way. You can deal me in next hand. Did I miss anything?"
A shake of the head came from Zaviera, who was leaning back in her chair, looking at the cards she had in her hand neutrally. She was in her usual version of "dressed down", which was a sports bra, the UNSC grey fatigues and her combat boots. Her pistol was on a thigh holster, and her knife was sheathed at the small of her back. "Not much", she said with a shrug, reaching out to take a sip of the "beer" that she was allowed during training. "A nutritious, tailored substitute", she had once said. 'Tastes exactly how you would think it does, too.' "Mikhail's losing as usual, Sir William's doing that 'wriggly-thing' with his mind, and I'm up a bit."
She tilted her head back to bare her teeth in what could be mistaken for a grin at William, and took another swig from her bottle. The nanofiber armor plates underneath her skin stood out somewhat, a slight raising of the skin if one knew where to look. "Not going to be happy until you can talk to el mundo, eh?" The book in Alec's hand got a glance, and then she returned her eyes to the cards. Even she forgot how many languages he could speak.
"Gah, Bill, are you doing that whole...vibrating frontal lobe thing entirely by accident?" He laughs softly, placing the palms of his hands flat on his book. "That takes a lot of getting used to--it ooked me right the hell out at first. Don't you think pulling that 'sim sim salabim' stuff at the card table is cheating a bit, though?"
He reaches up, hooking his sooty hair behind his ear. Ever since he has finished with the Ajax, he's clearly been spending at least a little bit of time going back to the basics of boot camp again, and that includes spending some time under a UV lamp. His paling skin has regained a little of its tanned color.
"I do not understand the game we play! Why must I wait for the 'River' and how come we only get two tiny cards. Real poker you have a full hand of seven cards," Mikhail complains as he tries to learn the popular Texas Hold 'em game the others prefer. He lifts a small metal flask of ice cold liquor to his lips. "How can you drink that fake beer, Zaza?" Vodka is a true drink! Though I worry that I may only have the one bottle Alec and I stored in Ajax. Perhaps I shall have to find him a book on making it."
William raises an eyebrow in response to Zaviera's bared teeth, a slight up turn to his lips showning only the faintest of smiles.
"Gah, Bill, are you doing that whole...vibrating frontal lobe thing entirely by accident?"
”It... vibrates...?” William says, as he arches his brows and looks upward as if trying to see his own frontal lobe.
"That takes a lot of getting used to--it ooked me right the hell out at first. Don't you think pulling that 'sim sim salabim' stuff at the card table is cheating a bit, though?"
”Yes it probably would be cheating, which is why I only observe. The time spent around the table with you all is very valuable to me.”
“As for the “flashes” I've only seen one in a video, it was... strange... I must admit. I'm not even aware that they've happened... I don't remember them, the scientist at the Directive think it's because they are not “mine” to remember.”William pauses for a moment and then adds in a hushed tone. “You should probably fold this hand.” He says bluffing playfully.
"Ack! I must always fold this hand! How will I win if I do not keep a hand?" Mikhail exclaims tossing his Two of Clubs and Seven of Hearts onto the table.
“It does seem unlikely that you could.” Williams says to Mikhail without managing to be of any help, realizing this he adds. “Sometimes you need to play a bad hand... to throw off your opponents... it's like throwing a high punch when the real threat is the low kick, then the next time you throw a punch they'll be worrying about the kick."
"And sometimes it just isn't in the cards." Eyeing Mikhail's former hand, Zaviera managed to keep the amused smirk on her face to a minimum, covering it with another swallow of the "beer". She made a face after, but shrugged, looking at the bottle. "I'd rather drink my regimen than have it injected. Además, the white-coats said something about 'proper saturation'."
One hand tapped her forearm in illustration, and the sound of her finger was somewhat different, but one had to listen closely. "Ups my survivability -- which ups our survivability. Downside? Occasional chemical maintenance, monitoring, blah blah blah..."
She tossed a chip in. "Raise."
Alec's gaze wanders down Zaviera's arm curiously."Wait, you're saying that crazy home-grown space-moonshine also contains chemicals that maintain that subcutaneous armor system you've got under your skin?" His eyebrows raise, and a playful grin appears on his face. "That's pretty friggin' groovy."
Alec leans over to Mikhail and places his hand companionably on his shoulder. "Cards is a game of strategy, like Bill says. Like throwing a punch when they expect a kick, or kicking when they expect a punch. Or pushing quarter circle forward, then punch, and hitting them with a fireball. That really surprises people at the poker table."
William turns his head to Zaviera " Does it itch?" he asks, then he tilts his head inquisitively in responce to Alec's comments, not understanding the reference " Perhaps we should keep a fire extinguisher at the table."
Jacq listens thoughtfully to the banter being swapped back and forth at a rapid pace. She sighs, relaxed, idly pondering her hand as she ponders the rest of the team. It's been two weeks and approximately forever since she last saw them, and this seems the best place as any to re-feel out the bonds between them. She wishes she could swap the backtalk as well as the others (though manages to get a zing in here and there) but for her this is the best way strengthen her feel for how her team, her buddies work together--when they're happy, when they're tense, when they're bluffing. She's happy the game's going and everyone's having a good time; less happy that at the moment she owes Alec several credits, but these things all come out in the wash eventually.
At William's comment about the fire extinguisher, she laughs, a spontaneous image of Zaviera firing it off at Alec dancing through her mind. "You know, that's not a bad idea," she says as she tosses a chip in.