Sitting on the hard stool in front of the metal workbench, Jack held up the chest piece to his armor and looked at it in the light cast by the overhead tracks. The golden symbol of The Collective glittered over the heart and Jack looked at it for a long moment, his mind travelling back over the years to the day he'd enlisted. The symbol had meant so much then, the young, angry Jack had been fiercely patriotic; not to Earth and humanity, like so many others, but to The Collective. As he turned the chest plate in the light and watched it glitter, Jack was sure he'd never feel the pride he'd felt the day he was given the armor again. Now it was just a means to an end, after all it had taken from him, and the single, small thing it refused to do in return.
Dropping it to the table in front of him, Jack took a small plastic spray bottle in one hand and the sleeve of his armor in the other. Holding both in the light, Jack found the horrendous tear in the armor that had resulted in his wounded arm -- which still lightly throbbed. Carefully, Jack worked the nozzle of the spray bottle twice onto the piece of armor and watched it bubble for a moment. The piece of armor clean, Jack stood and took it to a nearby machine.
“This one see’s you Daywalker”
It was at that moment that the sliding door that kept him isolated from the rest of the ship opened and the Sicariun walked through, holding his equipment in one hand. Glancing up at the Sicariun, Jack flipped the machine in front of him on and then put his armor into it. Nodding once again at Jacquen, Jack fiddled with the FDS that controlled the repair bot's functions until it began working upon the bit of armor, robotic arms reaching out, seizing it and turning it over and over, until the damage assessment was over and repairs began.
Taking his seat again, Jack began the monumental task of dismantling The Rampart and cleaning every single, little piece. A bitter smile crossed his lips as he thought to himself that cleaning The Rampart would take all night. A screwdriver in one hand and the other bracing The Rampart firm against the table, Jack began to work.
It was not long until Jacquen spoke up “So Daywalker this one knows whys he’s not with the others…but how come you are here also?”
For a second, Jack stopped working at his weapon, his hand frozen mid-turn of the screwdriver clenched in it. Then he resumed turning it. He did not answer until all fifteen of the screws lay lined up beside each other on the metal table "I did not accomplish my mission today, otherwise I wouldn't be here." Jack said just loud enough for the Sicariun to hear, as he pulled The Rampart's barrel from the stock, his hands shaking noticeably "The last party I went to was my Bachelor Party -- not sure if your people have something similar. It's a party held in honor of a friend who is about to, well not married in my case." No longer able to control the shaking, Jack dropped The Rampart's stock to the floor to a hideous banging sound. "Damn it." he muttered as he lurched off the stool he sat on and knelt to pick it back up again.
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Ever since Lieutenant Dan's free standing display of hangar three went offline suspiciously and the techs he sent to repair it were turned back by armed guards, the helmsman's mind had refused to let it go as just an overzealous Bio Guard. There was something, he was completely sure of it, and that made him angry. He wasn't as angry about information being withheld from him, as he was angry about control of HIS - as he saw it - ship being taken away from him. So that night, as the rest of the crew went off to booze it up in the third birthing bay, Dan went out searching for answers.
After checking with his good friend on the observation deck and - despite Dan's reminding him that he'd introduced the man to his wife - the security guard, Alex Renford, wouldn't let him see the data of what went on in the third docking bay right after the mission. Dan left the observation deck vowing to tell the security guard's wife about the house of ill repute he and Alex had visited on Nova in their younger days -- that would certainly embarrass the Cretin.
For the next hour, Dan sat in his seat at the controls Void's Warden, running over what happened in his mind. It was just as he was about to give up and head to the party - maybe he could figure out what happened there - when he got an idea, he couldn't get into the security footage, so he'd have to go right to the horse's mouth -- so to speak. Turning to the Free Standing Display that housed the ship's virtual intelligence, Dan spoke to it "Intelligence, who were on the crew of Orbital Drop Ship 3?"
The exaggeratedly female voice and face appeared in front of them and spoke "One moment, Lieutenant." Dan waited impatiently "Servicemen Trace -- Kirken, Jacquen -- Sicariun, Carlyle -- human, Jefferson -- human were on ODS 3. Commanding Officer, Lieutenant Helmfrid."
"Thank you, Inteli." Dan got up from his chair and strode from the helm.
"You are welcome, Danny." The VI said, as the screen went dark.
Dan couldn't help but wonder how he would talk to the Kriken - those things always made his skin crawl - and he wasn't even sure Sicariun's spoke English. So he went to one of the humans. Carlyle always seemed like a cold fish to Lieutenant Dan, not a guy who lets his hair down too often, so he was out of the question. Helmfrid was the CO, no point asking him what happened, he was probably down in the third birthing compartment partying. So it was down to Frank Jefferson.
And Lieutenant Dan found Jefferson soon enough, as he turned the corner to go find him at the party and almost ran into him. "There you are, Frank!" Dan called to him, walking over and slapping him on the back that was when he saw Trace, the Kriken, another one of the ODS 3 crew. "I hope you don't mind if I steal him from you, mate." Lieutenant Dan jovially said to the Kriken "I have a couple seats open at my poker table and we could use the money - err - the company." Dan winked at the Kriken on the side of his face that wasn't facing Jefferson.