All of the words that we damn never speak
All of our ghosts and secrets do keep
Gather them all we'll bury them deep
I could sing for sorrow
Foo Fighters - Free Me
//This JP takes place between the Prologue and Mission 1//
LSDF Val'ta, Deck Three, Captain's Quarters
The Captain had gotten some unique complaints recently. Small things missing, not necessarily valuable things, but small things. She examined a picture of the last potential culprit - she'd already interviewed a few others, who turned out not to be the culprits.
The last on the docket was the lone Helashio with a rank beyond 'manservant'. "Hm, Ex-Akahar... that could account for something." She sighed before typing a message to them. She didn't see them during the briefing, having escaped her notice.
--
When the Scout entered the Captain's office, she knocked once. Then, when she heard the acknowledgement, she opened the door and walked until she was a few paces in front of the chair that Porrim was sitting in and saluted.
Porrim, the Captain, looked to Elm like most Captains must look. This happened to be a supposition; Elm didn't actually know how they were supposed to look, but she assumed by dint of the fact that she had only known two, and this one being the second, that whatever she was seeing had to be normal.
Braincase had used a desk, and so had Keib when he was acting as Captain.
"Captain Porrim," she said.
"Soldier Petra," she replied, looking to the chair in front of her desk, "take a seat."
Ghost did as ordered, sitting down and folding her hands in her lap, and after settling she could have been the perfect imitation of a stone statue. Not even her tail twitched.
In the somewhat awkward silence that followed during those few moments, Ghost offered, "Thank you, Captain Porrim."
"Soldier," she started, sounding relaxed. The issue was fairly petty, and she didn't need to throw weight around. Besides, Helashio learned better when you made them feel good about doing the right thing than feel bad about doing the wrong thing.
"I have heard that small articles belonging to soldiers around your Mass Bunk have been going missing. I've already interviewed a few potential suspects-" least of which was the Raven aspected engineer "-and you're the last one."
She then held up a finger. "This doesn't mean you're guilty by process of elimination, though, understand?"
"Yes, Captain Porrim," Ghost offered, calmly.
The captain slid a glass of water towards Elm's side of the desk without asking. "In particular, soldiers have noticed knives and small blades of theirs going missing. Standard issue blades or ones they hang onto as demanded by tradition." She had one herself. Ghost had noticed it on the wall behind her upon entering. "I've also heard you are quite handy with a knife, according to spars with training weapons in the Iron Church."
She then leaned in, settling her elbows on the desk, head slightly askew as she regarded the Helashio - however adorable - with a matronly gaze. "Did you take those knives, Elm?"
Ghost considered her answer, and met the Captain's gaze with a level, uncommitted, completely polite responding gaze. Inside, naturally, her brain worked whatever it wanted to, and it more or less went out to the following dialogue;
If I tell her I'm going to lose everything.
But if I don't tell her she's probably going to have me searched.
The water was a false-flag. You should be wary of her.
Why is she trying to look at me like that?
I probably got picked out because I'm the only Helashio here.
Her tail, already rigid and unyielding, perfectly contouring to the seat she occupied, tensed only slightly. Ghost. Snowball. Stoneface. Ice. It wasn't just the coloring of her hair and skin.
"No, Captain Porrim. I am sorry. Do you want me to look for them, Captain Porrim?"
"If you would like, you can show me your knife first." She said, tapping her finger against the table. She seems quite wound up, poor thing. Was the Akahar really that bad?
After a moment, Ghost produced her combat knife. The standard issue blade felt a little awkward in her hand, mostly because she didn't like the feel of it for some reason. The five some-odd others felt better to her. Perhaps it was because this one was observably attached to her. She offered it over, holding it by the blade.
Porrim took it, and examined it. There were many like this unremarkable blade. She placed it down on the table, sideways to Elm. "Is that the only one you have? I heard you usually have more than one training weapon on the mat." Again with the motherly look, softening now. "Come on."
Inwardly, Ghost bristled. Soldiers weren't supposed to have more than one knife. She had checked. Would it be better to give up a few of them, or save them all? To play the innocent, and risk being searched, or to laugh about it and make up a story?
There seemed only one option; Elm Petra couldn't ever remember laughing.
She leaned forward, reaching beneath her uniform blouse at the waist, and produced another standard combat knife, which she again offered to Porrim by the hilt.
Porrim nodded as she put that blade down next to the first. "Any more? Your cooperation is greatly appreciated, Elm Petra." She smiled at the Helashio. Not the sort of fake smile that didn't engage all the muscles and done out of politeness or falsehood, but it was a smile.
Ghost considered hard what to sacrifice next. Or, in fact, whether to sacrifice at all. She had a surreal, almost out of body experience, where some facet of her tried to remember if she knew how to read faces, as she stared into the Captain's eyes and almost-unblinking wondered what it was she was getting at, and what it was she was thinking.
What did Ghost dare risk? Some unnamed dread nagged at her. Of course she had stolen all these knives. Even the second one wasn't hers. All the Captain would have to do would be to trace the serial number to realize that Elm Petra was a thief and a liar.
"Elm Petra?" Porrim asked. "If you return the blades that do not belong to you, there will be no further consequences. Some of them have great sentimental value to their owners."
"Otherwise, I may have to search you." She added. Maybe that was a threat enough.
Grudgingly, Ghost gave them up.
There was the knife up her sleeve. It was actually a Yamataian multi-tool, probably standard issue to that military. The next couple were nipped off Nepleslians--their utility combat knives had knuckle guards, which Ghost had loved--and came, respectively, from her other uniform sleeve, and then her left boot.
But the last one, she didn't want to give up. She'd been holding on to it for literally as long as she had been on the ship, and she liked it best; it was the ivory stiletto switchblade in her other boot. She had never taken it out, even for practice. She had only played with it every once in a while, in the privacy of her rack. For some reason, it made her feel like she had something to hold on to that wasn't just some random junk. And this one, she hesitated on.
And didn't, ultimately, produce.
One by one, she offered them hilt-first, trying as hard as she could to keep any inkling of emotion off her face and out of her expression and out of her body language. For Ghost, this proved easy. But it felt like she gave up little bits and pieces of herself with every single weapon and the loss of them made her feel progressively more naked.
Porrim laid each blade down and inspected them. The ones with knuckle guards and studs were made for the more rough-and-tumble Nepleslian doctrine of fighting, while the Yamataian multitool was more a utility item since most of the time, the Nekovalkyrja were weapons unto themselves - a blade was just an inconvenience for the best of them in a fight.
"Tell you what," Porrim said as she noticed that Elm still hadn't wound down; There was still more to give, "We have an upcoming mission, the one on Tange. You remember the one?"
"Yes, Captain Porrim," Ghost remarked, her voice as steady as ever.
"I have had you as a candidate for coming down in the Ground Team with me to explore the planet should we find anything interesting. If you perform well in your role as a scout," she said, "and return the blades - all of them. I'll grant you additional armoury privileges, and anything you find valuable to you on Tange, you can keep after a quick quarantine. Do we have a deal?"
Silence.
Ghost eventually averted her silvery gaze, and considered the edge of the couch on the far side of the office.
Something in the back of her mind warned her, again, against... what? A phantom that she couldn't remember. Like a word that she couldn't speak, it lingered on the back of her tongue, unsaid and unfound. The room seemed remarkably empty to her, both of people and meaning. Was the Captain alive? Was she?
Silence. Ah. Well, that is just how it is going to be, isn't it?
In a soft voice, a terrible concession, she whispered, "Can I think about it, Captain Porrim?"
"Take your time," Porrim replied softly, "you seem quite shaken."
A bristle travelled from the tip of Ghost's tail to the back of her skull. It came abruptly, and lingered there. Had she seemed quite shaken, or had she kept her posture perfect? Had that in and of itself given her away, or was this officer some sort of specialist? Or...
"Sorry, Captain Porrim."
"Are you afraid of something?"
The sudden adrenaline rush caused Ghost to seize hold of herself in order to maintain her composure. It took everything to not stand up. She didn't want to look at Porrim any more. She suddenly hated being in this seat, and hated being disarmed, and wanted to be back in her rack or in some quiet place where nobody could bother her at all.
Her tail, finally, curled around her midsection protectively.
"Elm-"
"I'm sorry, Captain Porrim," she repeated. It seemed like the only thing to do.
The captain knew why she was doing this. "Elm, please, calm down, you're not in trouble, nothing is coming to get you, this isn't the Akahar." Porrim's tone was more nurturing and motherly, trying to assure her. "You are safe here, and I am here for your safety and that of everybody else on the ship."
"Can't I just keep them for a while?" Ghost tried to keep the defeat out of her voice, and failed. Whatever came next, she had to at least prepare herself to weather it, and that happened to be a scary prospect. The ship wasn't safe, she felt certain. She had, after all, seen the roster--and noted a certain name in the medical officer position. Keib, or Hunter, or Porrim. What did it matter what the Captain's name was, if that person was on-board?
"It's going to get very dangerous very quickly, Captain Porrim. At least until the end of the mission?"
She didn't mean to seem beggy, but she couldn't help looking at the Captain.
"Dr. Kalopsia has no bearing on the mission. We are not out to find ... sauseians."
Ghost, since she had ended up looking at the Captain, decided to continue to do so. Her options were running out, she felt. Perhaps her feeling was misplaced. Or perhaps it wasn't.
"If I give them up, can I carry a gun, Captain Porrim?"
"Have a gun?" She asked, incredulous. "Why weren't you issued with one, Soldier?"
"I'm not sure, Captain Porrim." This was a half-truth. Ghost had her suspicions.
She made a note on her computer. "I'll make sure you get a sidearm to your name after you take it through Tange. That should be proof enough if you do a good job, and I'm still going to need the blades back. I can't twist my arm any further without seeming like I'm playing favourites."
Again, thinking that perhaps she was losing a little tiny part of herself in the process, Ghost reached down and pulled the switchblade from her other boot. She didn't have to hold the blade to hand it to the Captain, she just didn't have to open it.
"That's all I have, Captain Porrim. I'm sorry. I don't know why."
"You're scared that what happened on the Akahar will happen again because Aiesu is here. We aren't out of our way to find Saucepians." The word never quite rolled off her tongue right.
I don't know why I'm scared, Ghost replied bitterly in her head. Verbally, she said, "Sourcians, Captain Sir."
"If we do find Sourcians, we'll leave the place alone, tell the relevant authorities who know how to deal with this sort of thing, and move on."
Returning her hands to her lap, but not uncoiling her tail, Ghost watched the Captain and scrutinized her. She wasn't... untrustworthy-looking. Gradually relaxing, Ghost sighed slowly. All the fight drained out of her with it. Finally, she accepted the water, and tried not to sniff it before she drank it, reflecting briefly on why she felt so mistrustful.
Keib had never merited her mistrust, though she had exercised it with both him, and the Captain, Hunter before. It had seemed like an automatic and appropriate mistrust at the time, though Keib had never picked up on it like this Captain Porrim did.
On the other hand, Ghost had never stolen anything on the Akahar. This development on the Val'ta felt like it had got out of her control. After she had stolen the switchblade knife, she had found herself idly appropriating other knives, as though she were a weapons magnet without particularly understanding why. Now that she looked at all of them lain out on the desk, Ghost had admittedly stolen the equivalent of a small personal armoury.
The office... Porrim's office. It didn't seem like a threatening place, now that she looked around it. And Porrim herself, the object of much crew speculation, did not seem insane or hubric in particular as the rumours went.
Eventually Ghost looked back at the Captain and tried to really look at her. She was sitting at her desk, cross-legged, had the ears of a Lmanel - albeit a little larger than normal, larger wings than the average Lorath owing to aspectation, and her feminine figure was quite healthy. The way she held herself seemed quite relaxed, if not a little bored of familiar surroundings. It seemed the total opposite of Ghost's posture, which the little helashio knew by habit.
Ghost sipped at the water and didn't sniff it.
"Do you know anything about me, Captain Sir?"
"During your stay on the LSDF Akahar, you were given the rank of Soldier by Mar'zhaz Keib, and it is still valid today," she said, reading it off of a screen, "other than that, most of your past is a mystery prior, with your assumed job to be a servant."
A little more inspection, scrolling on a mouse. "Your service record, however brief, was backed up by other crew members aboard the Akahar." She typed a little more. "No medical records either. I think they were destroyed with the Akahar. Your file here's fresh, but I would recommend you undergo counselling."
Inwardly, Ghost squirmed again. Something warned her against pursuing this particular path of inquiry, but the other something riled against it. Counselling? Again, Ghost looked to the knives on the desk. There were over five of them, now that the switchblade lay there too, and she still felt the pull of it. Maybe she did need help.
"That is what you want me to do, Captain Porrim?" she asked.
She leaned forward, solemn. "I want you to feel better about yourself." The captain said plainly, grabbing the jug of water and refilling it for Elm. "Having nerves like this isn't healthy, and it eats away at you until there's nothing but doubt left."
"I just want to do a good job, Captain Porrim." Ghost felt small. Physically, she did happen to be small, but it had never seemed to matter before.
"Excellent. I'll have to return these blades," she carefully pulled them towards her half of the desk, "but you will not face any criminal charges."
"Thank you Captain Sir," Ghost mumbled.
"If you do well in the Tange mission, you may get new blades of your own as time goes on, if its what brings you some calm. However, please don't turn on fellow crew members."
"They're all I have Captain Sir." Ghost hadn't meant to say it originally, but now that she had, it felt like absolution. She no longer looked at Porrim, and no longer sipped. Neither seemed like smart things to do at the time. After a few breaths, she finished the thought. "Um. Captain Sir. Um."
"Yes?"
Ghost looked up, steeled herself. "Captain Sir. I..." How did she even phrase this? "...want... to..."
All the little warning bells were going off in her head. She fell silent, cowed suddenly.
"Captain Ma'am, actually," she chuckled.
"Sorry Sir. Ma'am. Captain. Ma'am." Ghost fumbled over the question, and the titles, and everything. What did she know about military decorum, anyway? Ghost didn't even know if she could trust this Captain, or not. Not simply throwing Ghost in the brig seemed to be a good start to this relationship, but it frightened Ghost anyway. Not that the Captain knew this propensity of hers, but that she had the propensity at all.
"Mister Keib was looking into something for me. It's... it's very private, Ma'am."
Her calm demeanour dropped. She was listening intently if it meant the well-being of the crew. "Go on."
Ghost found her voice failing her suddenly. Instead, she turned her head and pulled her hair aside--hair she'd grown out since the Akahar and tied into a ponytail over that specific spot--and let the Captain look at her neck, and at the scars the collar had left.
After noticing the perplexed look Porrim gave her, Ghost hesitantly explained, "I don't remember anything, sir. Ma'am. I was collared. Mister Keib took it off. I... I left it on the Akahar."
I don't think we'll be able to get it back. Porrim mumbled internally. The Akahar, everything about it, was an unknown tighter than a nun's nasty. "You don't remember who you are?"
Ghost could smell the leather of the chair, feel the texture. She could hear the breathing of the woman, feel the space of the office. Porrim was wearing... cologne? The lighting bathed them both in soft evanescence. Ghost could feel her own heartbeat and she realized suddenly that she was scared, downright terrified. The realization brought her a weird, surreal, and almost out-of-body feeling.
She wasn't a coward after all. Cowards couldn't operate for this long, on so little.
Trying not to gage the distance to the knives, Ghost explained, "Elm... it's just a name, Ma'am. I just kind of thought it was pretty. I didn't used to have one."
"It's a pretty name, indeed," Porrim replied as she stood up from her desk and walked around it, as she got closer to Elm, she crouched down to at eye level with her, "you're a pretty person too. I'm sorry that you had to go through so much on the Akahar. You deserve better here."
She held her arms out - she just wanted to hug the poor thing. What wasn't available in her files terrified her more than what was revealed to the captain.
Ghost stayed seated, staring doggedly at her. Everything, everything bristled. The gesture, rather than being comforting to her, seemed... like something that she couldn't place. Instead of responding, Ghost hung her head. "You don't have to do that, Lady Captain."
But she stayed there for her, arms still outstretched. "Call me Porrim."
"Can I trust you, Miss Porrim?"
She nodded.
The slender, white brows knit together. "I'm sorry, Miss Porrim. Why?"
The captain didn't move in. She wanted Elm to move, and didn't say any more. Not because she had to explain why the emotive display and open hands - thus undermining herself. Porrim just wanted her message clear. She could trust her.
Gray eyes weighed her harshly. Sadly, maybe. When Ghost looked up, it seemed only because something had unnerved her.
Quitely, she whispered, "You changed when you heard that, Miss Porrim."
Miss Porrim heard that. "You're scared of things which aren't there. Please. Its safe here."
"Keib felt sorry for me." Elm explained, without the 'mister', for once. Her voice remained quiet. "He had Greg. He... felt sorry for Helashio. I think that's why he did it."
"I have everyone here." She said, arms beginning to droop, falling to her sides. "That's why I look out for every single one of them - including you." Porrim looked away. It wasn't resentment in her eyes, it was whelm. The amount of people she had to look out for - perhaps too many.
The Captain seemed open, kind, and warm. Before, she had been superior, austere. A perfect professional. That Captain had taken away Ghost's weapons, and set them on a table, and promised her amnesty. This Captain was on her knees asking for trust. Something had to bind them together.
Deciding to test out the rumours, Ghost leaned forward and hugged the Captain.
"Help me, and I'll do whatever you want. I'm not comfortable just... I don't..."
Damning herself mentally, Ghost cursed herself for losing the words for it. How would she ever impart that she didn't trust the Captain? How would she impart that she hadn't trusted anyone before? She'd simply understood Keib, because he had kept Greg. Greg had been Keib's shadow, at his elbow for everything. The experiments. Probably other things. The Captain -- Keib, that was -- had never expressed any interest in Four Six, after all.
And how did she explain that she had never had the opportunity to doubt anyone, and that now she'd been given it, she'd found it everywhere?
Aha.
Into her ear, she vouched, quietly, "I'll be your shadow. I've done it before. Let me do something for you."
Slowly, Ghost felt Porrim's arms raise until they gently settled around Elm's shoulders, pulling her closer. The file mentioned that Elm used to follow Keib quite a lot, indeed acting as a second - and oddly, voluntary - servant. Perhaps, perhaps, if it bought her peace to repeat what she felt comfortable.
But to what extent? "My shadow?"
Perfectly conscious of every small movement, Ghost slid off the chair and onto the kneeling, wide-hipped Lmanel, settling. Sitting there, using her arms to pull close, she found herself expectedly shorter. Her tail snaked behind her; her off leg spread slightly, boot finding little purchase on the smooth office floor. The posture might have been erotic if someone had the chance to walk in on them, but given context...
Committing herself, Ghost said, "Yes. If you help me, your shadow."
"Meaning...?" She didn't seem to be familiar with the terminology. She didn't keep helashio, but had regular interactions with them for small things now and again back at the academy.
"For... for Keib, I watched his back. He healed me, and he could have had me if he wanted to. I don't know for sure why he didn't. I think Greg... that was Keib's manservant. I don't know for sure what exactly he did. Laundry. Cleaning. Weapons. But, I can do whatever you want. If you promise me."
Wait, Keib was not only brotherly - with a Helashio too? Crivens! Porrim just got something that definitely wasn't in the file.
"What do you mean by 'everything', Elm?"
Ghost shifted in Porrim's lap, silver-gray eyes quiet and contemplative and quite direct.
"Whatever you want."
All of our ghosts and secrets do keep
Gather them all we'll bury them deep
I could sing for sorrow
Foo Fighters - Free Me
//This JP takes place between the Prologue and Mission 1//
LSDF Val'ta, Deck Three, Captain's Quarters
The Captain had gotten some unique complaints recently. Small things missing, not necessarily valuable things, but small things. She examined a picture of the last potential culprit - she'd already interviewed a few others, who turned out not to be the culprits.
The last on the docket was the lone Helashio with a rank beyond 'manservant'. "Hm, Ex-Akahar... that could account for something." She sighed before typing a message to them. She didn't see them during the briefing, having escaped her notice.
Code:
TO: Soldier Elm Petra
FR: Captain Mil'ena Porrim
MSG: Dear Soldier,
It has come to my attention that there has been some petty theft aboard my ship. Nothing of great value has been stolen, but I do want to have a word with you about this.--
When the Scout entered the Captain's office, she knocked once. Then, when she heard the acknowledgement, she opened the door and walked until she was a few paces in front of the chair that Porrim was sitting in and saluted.
Porrim, the Captain, looked to Elm like most Captains must look. This happened to be a supposition; Elm didn't actually know how they were supposed to look, but she assumed by dint of the fact that she had only known two, and this one being the second, that whatever she was seeing had to be normal.
Braincase had used a desk, and so had Keib when he was acting as Captain.
"Captain Porrim," she said.
"Soldier Petra," she replied, looking to the chair in front of her desk, "take a seat."
Ghost did as ordered, sitting down and folding her hands in her lap, and after settling she could have been the perfect imitation of a stone statue. Not even her tail twitched.
In the somewhat awkward silence that followed during those few moments, Ghost offered, "Thank you, Captain Porrim."
"Soldier," she started, sounding relaxed. The issue was fairly petty, and she didn't need to throw weight around. Besides, Helashio learned better when you made them feel good about doing the right thing than feel bad about doing the wrong thing.
"I have heard that small articles belonging to soldiers around your Mass Bunk have been going missing. I've already interviewed a few potential suspects-" least of which was the Raven aspected engineer "-and you're the last one."
She then held up a finger. "This doesn't mean you're guilty by process of elimination, though, understand?"
"Yes, Captain Porrim," Ghost offered, calmly.
The captain slid a glass of water towards Elm's side of the desk without asking. "In particular, soldiers have noticed knives and small blades of theirs going missing. Standard issue blades or ones they hang onto as demanded by tradition." She had one herself. Ghost had noticed it on the wall behind her upon entering. "I've also heard you are quite handy with a knife, according to spars with training weapons in the Iron Church."
She then leaned in, settling her elbows on the desk, head slightly askew as she regarded the Helashio - however adorable - with a matronly gaze. "Did you take those knives, Elm?"
Ghost considered her answer, and met the Captain's gaze with a level, uncommitted, completely polite responding gaze. Inside, naturally, her brain worked whatever it wanted to, and it more or less went out to the following dialogue;
If I tell her I'm going to lose everything.
But if I don't tell her she's probably going to have me searched.
The water was a false-flag. You should be wary of her.
Why is she trying to look at me like that?
I probably got picked out because I'm the only Helashio here.
Her tail, already rigid and unyielding, perfectly contouring to the seat she occupied, tensed only slightly. Ghost. Snowball. Stoneface. Ice. It wasn't just the coloring of her hair and skin.
"No, Captain Porrim. I am sorry. Do you want me to look for them, Captain Porrim?"
"If you would like, you can show me your knife first." She said, tapping her finger against the table. She seems quite wound up, poor thing. Was the Akahar really that bad?
After a moment, Ghost produced her combat knife. The standard issue blade felt a little awkward in her hand, mostly because she didn't like the feel of it for some reason. The five some-odd others felt better to her. Perhaps it was because this one was observably attached to her. She offered it over, holding it by the blade.
Porrim took it, and examined it. There were many like this unremarkable blade. She placed it down on the table, sideways to Elm. "Is that the only one you have? I heard you usually have more than one training weapon on the mat." Again with the motherly look, softening now. "Come on."
Inwardly, Ghost bristled. Soldiers weren't supposed to have more than one knife. She had checked. Would it be better to give up a few of them, or save them all? To play the innocent, and risk being searched, or to laugh about it and make up a story?
There seemed only one option; Elm Petra couldn't ever remember laughing.
She leaned forward, reaching beneath her uniform blouse at the waist, and produced another standard combat knife, which she again offered to Porrim by the hilt.
Porrim nodded as she put that blade down next to the first. "Any more? Your cooperation is greatly appreciated, Elm Petra." She smiled at the Helashio. Not the sort of fake smile that didn't engage all the muscles and done out of politeness or falsehood, but it was a smile.
Ghost considered hard what to sacrifice next. Or, in fact, whether to sacrifice at all. She had a surreal, almost out of body experience, where some facet of her tried to remember if she knew how to read faces, as she stared into the Captain's eyes and almost-unblinking wondered what it was she was getting at, and what it was she was thinking.
What did Ghost dare risk? Some unnamed dread nagged at her. Of course she had stolen all these knives. Even the second one wasn't hers. All the Captain would have to do would be to trace the serial number to realize that Elm Petra was a thief and a liar.
"Elm Petra?" Porrim asked. "If you return the blades that do not belong to you, there will be no further consequences. Some of them have great sentimental value to their owners."
"Otherwise, I may have to search you." She added. Maybe that was a threat enough.
Grudgingly, Ghost gave them up.
There was the knife up her sleeve. It was actually a Yamataian multi-tool, probably standard issue to that military. The next couple were nipped off Nepleslians--their utility combat knives had knuckle guards, which Ghost had loved--and came, respectively, from her other uniform sleeve, and then her left boot.
But the last one, she didn't want to give up. She'd been holding on to it for literally as long as she had been on the ship, and she liked it best; it was the ivory stiletto switchblade in her other boot. She had never taken it out, even for practice. She had only played with it every once in a while, in the privacy of her rack. For some reason, it made her feel like she had something to hold on to that wasn't just some random junk. And this one, she hesitated on.
And didn't, ultimately, produce.
One by one, she offered them hilt-first, trying as hard as she could to keep any inkling of emotion off her face and out of her expression and out of her body language. For Ghost, this proved easy. But it felt like she gave up little bits and pieces of herself with every single weapon and the loss of them made her feel progressively more naked.
Porrim laid each blade down and inspected them. The ones with knuckle guards and studs were made for the more rough-and-tumble Nepleslian doctrine of fighting, while the Yamataian multitool was more a utility item since most of the time, the Nekovalkyrja were weapons unto themselves - a blade was just an inconvenience for the best of them in a fight.
"Tell you what," Porrim said as she noticed that Elm still hadn't wound down; There was still more to give, "We have an upcoming mission, the one on Tange. You remember the one?"
"Yes, Captain Porrim," Ghost remarked, her voice as steady as ever.
"I have had you as a candidate for coming down in the Ground Team with me to explore the planet should we find anything interesting. If you perform well in your role as a scout," she said, "and return the blades - all of them. I'll grant you additional armoury privileges, and anything you find valuable to you on Tange, you can keep after a quick quarantine. Do we have a deal?"
Silence.
Ghost eventually averted her silvery gaze, and considered the edge of the couch on the far side of the office.
Something in the back of her mind warned her, again, against... what? A phantom that she couldn't remember. Like a word that she couldn't speak, it lingered on the back of her tongue, unsaid and unfound. The room seemed remarkably empty to her, both of people and meaning. Was the Captain alive? Was she?
Silence. Ah. Well, that is just how it is going to be, isn't it?
In a soft voice, a terrible concession, she whispered, "Can I think about it, Captain Porrim?"
"Take your time," Porrim replied softly, "you seem quite shaken."
A bristle travelled from the tip of Ghost's tail to the back of her skull. It came abruptly, and lingered there. Had she seemed quite shaken, or had she kept her posture perfect? Had that in and of itself given her away, or was this officer some sort of specialist? Or...
"Sorry, Captain Porrim."
"Are you afraid of something?"
The sudden adrenaline rush caused Ghost to seize hold of herself in order to maintain her composure. It took everything to not stand up. She didn't want to look at Porrim any more. She suddenly hated being in this seat, and hated being disarmed, and wanted to be back in her rack or in some quiet place where nobody could bother her at all.
Her tail, finally, curled around her midsection protectively.
"Elm-"
"I'm sorry, Captain Porrim," she repeated. It seemed like the only thing to do.
The captain knew why she was doing this. "Elm, please, calm down, you're not in trouble, nothing is coming to get you, this isn't the Akahar." Porrim's tone was more nurturing and motherly, trying to assure her. "You are safe here, and I am here for your safety and that of everybody else on the ship."
"Can't I just keep them for a while?" Ghost tried to keep the defeat out of her voice, and failed. Whatever came next, she had to at least prepare herself to weather it, and that happened to be a scary prospect. The ship wasn't safe, she felt certain. She had, after all, seen the roster--and noted a certain name in the medical officer position. Keib, or Hunter, or Porrim. What did it matter what the Captain's name was, if that person was on-board?
"It's going to get very dangerous very quickly, Captain Porrim. At least until the end of the mission?"
She didn't mean to seem beggy, but she couldn't help looking at the Captain.
"Dr. Kalopsia has no bearing on the mission. We are not out to find ... sauseians."
Ghost, since she had ended up looking at the Captain, decided to continue to do so. Her options were running out, she felt. Perhaps her feeling was misplaced. Or perhaps it wasn't.
"If I give them up, can I carry a gun, Captain Porrim?"
"Have a gun?" She asked, incredulous. "Why weren't you issued with one, Soldier?"
"I'm not sure, Captain Porrim." This was a half-truth. Ghost had her suspicions.
She made a note on her computer. "I'll make sure you get a sidearm to your name after you take it through Tange. That should be proof enough if you do a good job, and I'm still going to need the blades back. I can't twist my arm any further without seeming like I'm playing favourites."
Again, thinking that perhaps she was losing a little tiny part of herself in the process, Ghost reached down and pulled the switchblade from her other boot. She didn't have to hold the blade to hand it to the Captain, she just didn't have to open it.
"That's all I have, Captain Porrim. I'm sorry. I don't know why."
"You're scared that what happened on the Akahar will happen again because Aiesu is here. We aren't out of our way to find Saucepians." The word never quite rolled off her tongue right.
I don't know why I'm scared, Ghost replied bitterly in her head. Verbally, she said, "Sourcians, Captain Sir."
"If we do find Sourcians, we'll leave the place alone, tell the relevant authorities who know how to deal with this sort of thing, and move on."
Returning her hands to her lap, but not uncoiling her tail, Ghost watched the Captain and scrutinized her. She wasn't... untrustworthy-looking. Gradually relaxing, Ghost sighed slowly. All the fight drained out of her with it. Finally, she accepted the water, and tried not to sniff it before she drank it, reflecting briefly on why she felt so mistrustful.
Keib had never merited her mistrust, though she had exercised it with both him, and the Captain, Hunter before. It had seemed like an automatic and appropriate mistrust at the time, though Keib had never picked up on it like this Captain Porrim did.
On the other hand, Ghost had never stolen anything on the Akahar. This development on the Val'ta felt like it had got out of her control. After she had stolen the switchblade knife, she had found herself idly appropriating other knives, as though she were a weapons magnet without particularly understanding why. Now that she looked at all of them lain out on the desk, Ghost had admittedly stolen the equivalent of a small personal armoury.
The office... Porrim's office. It didn't seem like a threatening place, now that she looked around it. And Porrim herself, the object of much crew speculation, did not seem insane or hubric in particular as the rumours went.
Eventually Ghost looked back at the Captain and tried to really look at her. She was sitting at her desk, cross-legged, had the ears of a Lmanel - albeit a little larger than normal, larger wings than the average Lorath owing to aspectation, and her feminine figure was quite healthy. The way she held herself seemed quite relaxed, if not a little bored of familiar surroundings. It seemed the total opposite of Ghost's posture, which the little helashio knew by habit.
Ghost sipped at the water and didn't sniff it.
"Do you know anything about me, Captain Sir?"
"During your stay on the LSDF Akahar, you were given the rank of Soldier by Mar'zhaz Keib, and it is still valid today," she said, reading it off of a screen, "other than that, most of your past is a mystery prior, with your assumed job to be a servant."
A little more inspection, scrolling on a mouse. "Your service record, however brief, was backed up by other crew members aboard the Akahar." She typed a little more. "No medical records either. I think they were destroyed with the Akahar. Your file here's fresh, but I would recommend you undergo counselling."
Inwardly, Ghost squirmed again. Something warned her against pursuing this particular path of inquiry, but the other something riled against it. Counselling? Again, Ghost looked to the knives on the desk. There were over five of them, now that the switchblade lay there too, and she still felt the pull of it. Maybe she did need help.
"That is what you want me to do, Captain Porrim?" she asked.
She leaned forward, solemn. "I want you to feel better about yourself." The captain said plainly, grabbing the jug of water and refilling it for Elm. "Having nerves like this isn't healthy, and it eats away at you until there's nothing but doubt left."
"I just want to do a good job, Captain Porrim." Ghost felt small. Physically, she did happen to be small, but it had never seemed to matter before.
"Excellent. I'll have to return these blades," she carefully pulled them towards her half of the desk, "but you will not face any criminal charges."
"Thank you Captain Sir," Ghost mumbled.
"If you do well in the Tange mission, you may get new blades of your own as time goes on, if its what brings you some calm. However, please don't turn on fellow crew members."
"They're all I have Captain Sir." Ghost hadn't meant to say it originally, but now that she had, it felt like absolution. She no longer looked at Porrim, and no longer sipped. Neither seemed like smart things to do at the time. After a few breaths, she finished the thought. "Um. Captain Sir. Um."
"Yes?"
Ghost looked up, steeled herself. "Captain Sir. I..." How did she even phrase this? "...want... to..."
All the little warning bells were going off in her head. She fell silent, cowed suddenly.
"Captain Ma'am, actually," she chuckled.
"Sorry Sir. Ma'am. Captain. Ma'am." Ghost fumbled over the question, and the titles, and everything. What did she know about military decorum, anyway? Ghost didn't even know if she could trust this Captain, or not. Not simply throwing Ghost in the brig seemed to be a good start to this relationship, but it frightened Ghost anyway. Not that the Captain knew this propensity of hers, but that she had the propensity at all.
"Mister Keib was looking into something for me. It's... it's very private, Ma'am."
Her calm demeanour dropped. She was listening intently if it meant the well-being of the crew. "Go on."
Ghost found her voice failing her suddenly. Instead, she turned her head and pulled her hair aside--hair she'd grown out since the Akahar and tied into a ponytail over that specific spot--and let the Captain look at her neck, and at the scars the collar had left.
After noticing the perplexed look Porrim gave her, Ghost hesitantly explained, "I don't remember anything, sir. Ma'am. I was collared. Mister Keib took it off. I... I left it on the Akahar."
I don't think we'll be able to get it back. Porrim mumbled internally. The Akahar, everything about it, was an unknown tighter than a nun's nasty. "You don't remember who you are?"
Ghost could smell the leather of the chair, feel the texture. She could hear the breathing of the woman, feel the space of the office. Porrim was wearing... cologne? The lighting bathed them both in soft evanescence. Ghost could feel her own heartbeat and she realized suddenly that she was scared, downright terrified. The realization brought her a weird, surreal, and almost out-of-body feeling.
She wasn't a coward after all. Cowards couldn't operate for this long, on so little.
Trying not to gage the distance to the knives, Ghost explained, "Elm... it's just a name, Ma'am. I just kind of thought it was pretty. I didn't used to have one."
"It's a pretty name, indeed," Porrim replied as she stood up from her desk and walked around it, as she got closer to Elm, she crouched down to at eye level with her, "you're a pretty person too. I'm sorry that you had to go through so much on the Akahar. You deserve better here."
She held her arms out - she just wanted to hug the poor thing. What wasn't available in her files terrified her more than what was revealed to the captain.
Ghost stayed seated, staring doggedly at her. Everything, everything bristled. The gesture, rather than being comforting to her, seemed... like something that she couldn't place. Instead of responding, Ghost hung her head. "You don't have to do that, Lady Captain."
But she stayed there for her, arms still outstretched. "Call me Porrim."
"Can I trust you, Miss Porrim?"
She nodded.
The slender, white brows knit together. "I'm sorry, Miss Porrim. Why?"
The captain didn't move in. She wanted Elm to move, and didn't say any more. Not because she had to explain why the emotive display and open hands - thus undermining herself. Porrim just wanted her message clear. She could trust her.
Gray eyes weighed her harshly. Sadly, maybe. When Ghost looked up, it seemed only because something had unnerved her.
Quitely, she whispered, "You changed when you heard that, Miss Porrim."
Miss Porrim heard that. "You're scared of things which aren't there. Please. Its safe here."
"Keib felt sorry for me." Elm explained, without the 'mister', for once. Her voice remained quiet. "He had Greg. He... felt sorry for Helashio. I think that's why he did it."
"I have everyone here." She said, arms beginning to droop, falling to her sides. "That's why I look out for every single one of them - including you." Porrim looked away. It wasn't resentment in her eyes, it was whelm. The amount of people she had to look out for - perhaps too many.
The Captain seemed open, kind, and warm. Before, she had been superior, austere. A perfect professional. That Captain had taken away Ghost's weapons, and set them on a table, and promised her amnesty. This Captain was on her knees asking for trust. Something had to bind them together.
Deciding to test out the rumours, Ghost leaned forward and hugged the Captain.
"Help me, and I'll do whatever you want. I'm not comfortable just... I don't..."
Damning herself mentally, Ghost cursed herself for losing the words for it. How would she ever impart that she didn't trust the Captain? How would she impart that she hadn't trusted anyone before? She'd simply understood Keib, because he had kept Greg. Greg had been Keib's shadow, at his elbow for everything. The experiments. Probably other things. The Captain -- Keib, that was -- had never expressed any interest in Four Six, after all.
And how did she explain that she had never had the opportunity to doubt anyone, and that now she'd been given it, she'd found it everywhere?
Aha.
Into her ear, she vouched, quietly, "I'll be your shadow. I've done it before. Let me do something for you."
Slowly, Ghost felt Porrim's arms raise until they gently settled around Elm's shoulders, pulling her closer. The file mentioned that Elm used to follow Keib quite a lot, indeed acting as a second - and oddly, voluntary - servant. Perhaps, perhaps, if it bought her peace to repeat what she felt comfortable.
But to what extent? "My shadow?"
Perfectly conscious of every small movement, Ghost slid off the chair and onto the kneeling, wide-hipped Lmanel, settling. Sitting there, using her arms to pull close, she found herself expectedly shorter. Her tail snaked behind her; her off leg spread slightly, boot finding little purchase on the smooth office floor. The posture might have been erotic if someone had the chance to walk in on them, but given context...
Committing herself, Ghost said, "Yes. If you help me, your shadow."
"Meaning...?" She didn't seem to be familiar with the terminology. She didn't keep helashio, but had regular interactions with them for small things now and again back at the academy.
"For... for Keib, I watched his back. He healed me, and he could have had me if he wanted to. I don't know for sure why he didn't. I think Greg... that was Keib's manservant. I don't know for sure what exactly he did. Laundry. Cleaning. Weapons. But, I can do whatever you want. If you promise me."
Wait, Keib was not only brotherly - with a Helashio too? Crivens! Porrim just got something that definitely wasn't in the file.
"What do you mean by 'everything', Elm?"
Ghost shifted in Porrim's lap, silver-gray eyes quiet and contemplative and quite direct.
"Whatever you want."
