RP: YSS Miharu Mission 2, Day 2

The young Ketsurui turned her head slightly to glance back at Serizawa with a nod. She sighed softly and nodded. "Yes, you're right, Ichi-kun."

She shifted the things in her hands for a moment to free one of them to place her own hand on top of Ichi's. "Better hurry before we see who else has too much energy this morning."

Sora waited for a moment before she let go of Serizawa's hand and started walking back towards the door of the public baths. And I thought I was a morning person! My energy just doesn't compare to Freeman-Juni's. And my... goodness he's... Her thoughts drifted as she lightly blushed. She looked at her lover with a warm smile, recovering from the blush. "Have you heard of Anti-Matter O's before? I'm guessing it some sort of cereal but I can't imagine that consuming anti-matter would be good for one's digestion."

Serizawa walked out of the baths alongside of Sora, his showering kit tucked under the arm furthest away from the neko. Scratching his chin, Serizawa pondered a scenario where one might be enabled to eat antimatter.

"Well, I've never had tried it before but if I had to guess," he began to hypothesize, "I imagine that we will have to be ejected out of one of the Miharu's airlocks, the shuttle and armor bays with the cereal. We would also need a spoon that generates an electromagnetic field to trap the antimatter. However, we would only be able to eat one spoonful because the second the antimatter passed through our lips, it would annihilate itself and our flesh while unleashing gamma radiation during the reaction."

He thought about this for a second and added, "I suppose it is an acquired taste."

Sora made a face. "That just doesn't sound very tasty! Maybe they'll let us have something else less hazardous to our general well-being than Antimatter. I wonder what the appeal of that sort of thing would be. It sounds as appealing as eating a spoonful of napalm or aether!"

Yuril giggled softly.
"Yes I suppose the Fort gives the wrong impression of how daily life would be... But I suppose that is their job I guess."
The neko decided to go take a seat at a table for now, rather then clutter around the kitchen.

As Miyoko left the room, Sanjuro paid little attention to anything else other than the food being cooked around he. He tried to pay special attention to the times each item was being heated, the amounts of ingredients being submitted, and seemed particularly interested in the placement on the plates the two sprites had chosen.

Then, something else came to Sanjuro, streaking across his thoughts like a sudden, very important realization. Without another word or action, the robed Yamataian strode towards the doorway to the kitchen and, upon opening it, found his target well within range; Miyoko, still with a handful of dishes and utensils in tow. Sanjuro was quick to close the distance between them, but remained at a far enough distance so that it would not disturb the sensor specialists' job...but close enough to disturb, if the situation called. It was at this safe distance that Sanjuro stood...and waited.

Miyoko did her best to simply ignore Sanjuro's presence--she hoped he'd come to help set the table, but either way, she had no intention of engaging him in conversation just yet. She slid the two plates onto the table in front of seats, then began placing the silverware.

"Heh, yeah, true" Kai replied to Yuril before she sat down. After a moment's pause he stuck his head back into the kitchen and queried "Need any help in there?" to the two sprites who were supposedly fixing breakfast.

Sanjuro was there to assist Miyoko in setting the table...in his own special way, of course.

As soon as Miyoko set her sights on placing silverware, Sanjuro silently leaned over and ever-so-slightly adjusted the two dishes, moving them closer to the center of their 'food area', according to the seating arrangement and which side of the plate the succulent dish looked more appeasing. When he was done with the first one, he did the same to the second, and when he was done with that, he stood back a bit and loomed over Miyoko as she set the silverware, inquisitive eyes flitting across each movement.

Serizawa laughed a little at Sora's response and replied as the pair made their way back to their quarters, "Aether-Os might not be such a bad idea. It has a nice ring to it. Or maybe Nodal-Os, the cereal that does not run out until you finish eating."

It wasn't long before they had reached the door to their quarters, completing the round trip to the public baths while they had been speaking about the cereal that the Miharu's avatar apparently coveted. Waiting patiently at the door, Serizawa stood fast while he waited for Sora to enter the room before he did so.

Oh, what in the hell... Miyoko had no idea what Sanjuro intended by his adjustments to the plates, but she had to grind her teeth together to keep from snapping at the medical officer. She would have just put it down as an idiosyncrasy if it had been anybody else, but with the medical officer doing it, she had to take it as a silent critique.

Her first impulse was to set the silverware as erratically as possible, placing it at bizarre angles and upside-down, but there was no use in provoking a superior officer. Two can play at this game. She started sitting down the utensils as uniformly as she could, taking the time to sit them exactly parallel to each other on opposite sides of the plates.

(( IN THE GRIM DARKNESS OF THE FAR FUTURE, THERE IS ONLY WAR. ))

Sanjuro watched over his purple-haired peer like a vulture over a freshly road-killed Delsaurian Fin-Lizard. He didn't say anything or make any immediate movements as Miyoko suddenly began to take extra-care in her setting of the table. Sanjuro couldn't imagine what caused this sudden change...she had been so shoddy with the plates that he was expecting to correct her utensil positions after she went back to the kitchen to retrieve another set.

After Miyoko had finished setting down the silverware, Sanjuro simply stood there, scanning the table setup with his ever-scrutinizing eyes. However, just before one could think Sanjuro could find no fault, the medical officer reached out towards one of the forks and adjusted its angle ever-so-slightly. To Miyoko, it would've seemed that he had fixed nothing at all, but to Sanjuro, a fraction of an inch is still a fraction of a failed attempt at perfection.

Sanjuro retracted his hand and stood straight, double-checking his handiwork before looking expectantly at Miyoko, never uttering a word.

Sora entered the room that served as her and Serizawa's quarters and quickly set to getting herself dressed and presentable for work.

She took great care in how she replaced her shower things in her footlocker and rehung her bathrobe so that it could properly dry. She smiled shyly at Serizawa for a moment as she put on her under garments and set to securing her bra clasp.

"Sometimes I think that it'd be worthwhile to utilize the holographic clothing that was popular a few years ago but... I think I'm deathly afraid of it cutting out in the middle of a crowd." She laughed softly at the mental image with a light blush on her cheeks as she lifted up her uniform and unzipped the back so that she'd be able to step into it.

"I can imagine just how much time it'd save each morning even if it was a little chilly," she commented thoughtfully as she stepped into her uniform, putting her arms through the sleeves and zipped up the back again.

If thoughts could kill, there would have been a crater where Sanjuro was standing, and probably holes blown through any planets that lay along further along the line extending from Miyoko's brain to him. As it was, she held back her temper. Nothing to be gained by provoking him... nothing to be gained by provoking him...

"Thank you for the assistance, Ashitaka-heisho." Her voice was sickeningly sweet and about as sincere as an ocean was flammable. Without prolonging the matter any more, she stepped past him to return to the kitchen and fetch more plates.

Serizawa followed Sora into their quarters and began to put away his cleaning items. Right before he was about to disrobe, he caught a glimpse of Sora putting on her underwear and paused for a moment to watch, especially when she was putting on her bra.

"I suppose that holographic clothing would cut preparation time down in the morning but it's not a very practical thing," the scientist replied as he started to dress, removing his robe and putting on the black briefs issued from the Star Army. "I personally like the protection that clothing provides."

After having slipped into his green-paneled uniform, Serizawa continued, "Besides, I don't mind having to get dressed everyday and it can be enjoyable on occasion to get in and out of clothing."

Scene: Last night

Chill.

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She couldn't find sleep last night. Tom had been full from his steak dinner and, bless him, he fell asleep almost as soon as he hit the pillow. He'd not even taken the time for a shower. His body smelled of engines and sweat and grit, a kind of aphrodisiac that had the same effect as his usual scent of clean, blisteringly cold snow. It showed he worked. Worked hard. Worked long.

Yukari had spent an hour gazing outside the window from part of the pit, head sideways against her arm. She wanted to sleep. But each time she looked back at his peaceful, messy frame, a goofy grin on his face and the covers scattered over himself ... No. She would not sleep near him; she would sleep with him. She could not disturb his sleep with her neediness.

She changed out of her red satin underwear and put on the standard-issue sports bra and boxer shorts. A silent question mouthed to Miharu revealed everyone was asleep — including a sated Kotori, a spent Serizawa Ichi and a perfectly blissful Ketsurui Sora. Yukari thanked Miharu with a mental grumble and left her room.

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Lust and anger are similar, just as sex and violence are so. They are blinding emotions, ones that eliminate rational thought and shift the brain to utilize instinct. They result in enhanced bodily response times, improved senses and overwhelming desire. They are also dangerous if left unchecked.

Yukari could feel both fighting for space inside her core. Each step she took away from her room and toward the wardroom exchanged lust for anger. Like currency, it was how her mind paid her body for its ruined sleep.

Damn Tom. I, full of need; he instead sleeps like a baby stuffed with milk! Dinner was too good ... and Kotori. Also too good, but for the entire crew. Her words ring less true each time she speaks about victory, about winning. She leaves caring about the crew to me, but does that put her above showing anything but a desire to win?

She was wide awake, and she needed to focus on something.

At that moment, she looked to her left. The VR room.

" ... "

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A power armor simulator was too constricting. Yukari wanted to feel things; have her body overtake her mind. Cut off those few thoughts that hedged her eyes in from the light of sleep, now that she was no longer aroused.

"Miharu," she typed into a virtual console. Telepathic communication might wake someone, and Yukari did not feel like talking. "What NH model would a member of the Daughters of Eve most likely be?"

"NH-17," the computer replied aloud. "NH-7 is possible well."

Yukari remembered being NH-17. What she was capable of at that time in her life, so long ago now. "Generate one NH-17," she typed. "Give it a Type 28A NSP and a knife."

The enemy Neko produced was essentially a Yui clone. Yukari was thankful for that; she'd been the opposite in colors, much like Sora was. The Neko had a serene expression, wore a black Neko uniform and was on the bow-end of the room, where it was darker.

"Remove all possible safeties. Highest difficulty available. Do not allow me any assistance of any time."

Miharu failed to comply. "Shosa ... are you sure? If you are injured — "

"Then I will seek medical assistance when I am able."

"But, this isn't safe. You could get really hurt but still not 'be able to die.'"

"It has been some time since I have felt actual pain. I believe such an experience will be healthy, not harmful."

" ... You're really upset, huh."

"Give me a GP-1, please." The rifle appeared at Yukari's feet; she picked it up, checked it, loaded it and flicked the safety off. Miharu complied with her previous request, after a bit more grumbling.

" ... Begin," Yukari said, raising the rifle's sights to her eye and hitting her own internal timer.

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BAAM! The first shot from Yukari's rifle pierced the top of the Neko's head, taking off some red hair and some of the scalp. Dangling scraps of flesh and hair hung from the wound.

Yukari's second shot found air. As did the third, fourth — then the rifle was gone, knocked away from below. The next swipe sent Yukari meters away, up and down, landing hard on her palms. She rolled, got up, forced her eyes to look forward again, to search for her target.

Just in time to see the wrong sights of the NSP.

She threw her body to the left. The heat from the NSP's fire cast burning shadows onto her human ear. The next took off a few split ends, but by then Yukari was moving, her momentum reaching top flying speed almost instantly. All she considered was moving up and counting the shots. 31, 32 — She nearly crushed herself against the wall before nearly breaking her neck with a course change. No more fire rained down on her head.

Neko flesh did, however. As Yukari had slowed just enough to gauge her target, the Neko tried to collide into her. To send them into the wall at 110 kph and have Yukari be the cushion. She dodged, barely, and felt the hot claws of the Neko slash her belly.

Yukari pressed her front against the wall, then hurled herself away to the floor, just as the Neko pounced on her previous spot. Yukari came up with the rifle, spun herself around and missed pulling the trigger. The Neko collided with her again, this time pressing the rifle into Yukari's chest as she lay flat on her back. Yukari felt her body being compressed by the Neko's far superior strength, and bloodied by the head wound dripping on her face, but a desperate hand found the trigger and pulled it as hard as her straining muscles let her.

Hot brass was flung into the Neko's hand, which was over the ejection port, and her uniform. The Neko let loose a silent scream and pulled one hand away from the rifle. Just enough for Yukari to hurl the enemy off of her and fly from the port-stern end of the room to the bow-side. The Neko had drawn her knife now, the pistol abandoned on the far stern end. She snarled and attacked, a swept-back line of natural and unnatural claws coming at her.

She fired the rifle from a kneel, wincing as the recoil went through her shoulder and into her bruised chest. Only three rounds were let loose before she had to dodge again; no hits. Yukari had used 10 rounds. Only 10 left. The Neko stood at at the bow side, while Yukari was at the stern. Yukari's breathing was labored, but strong. The Neko had broken no sweat, did not breathe hard, and seemed to just be waiting. The rifle was down at Yukari's hip, an awkward and inaccurate position to fire from.

The Neko simply waited. Muscles locked into position. Her eyes fixed on Yukari's. She was doing something, but Yukari didn't care what that was. She checked her timer, then fired.

The round crashed into the wall behind the Neko without hitting her. Yukari snapped the rifle up to her shoulder, but by then the Neko was hurtling toward her again, low to the ground, knife at her side.

Two more rounds found the floor and nothing else, and Yukari jumped high and onto the ceiling, firing two more shots. The Neko didn't attempt to dodge, the shooting was so bad. It was the same as before, with the Neko hurling herself upward to try and catch Yukari, but to no avail.

The pair squared off again on the floor. Yukari had the rifle at her hip again.

Hip? Eh? Why wasn't it on her shoulder?

It was always at her shoulder. That was how she learned to shoot. She had drilled that constantly. She was more than proficient. The rifle should never have left her shoulder.

The Neko charged again, and Yukari again dodged. She was at the bow-end now, the Neko at the stern-end. Why was she not using the NSP? Where had it gone? Her ear hurt immensely. Another charge, another close call. Why was the rifle down at her hip again? She brought it up. Charge, dodge, rifle at the hip.

She was failing not only at hitting her mark, but at holding the rifle correctly.

Yukari kept the rifle at her hip and focused on the Neko. Red hair, cut short and spiky, striking green eyes. Pinkish skin. A Yui reverse-clone. Black outfit. All normal. An NH-17R, just as she had been —

No. NH-17T. Red hair, green eyes, pink skin. NH-17T.

The Neko charged, but this time the NSP was in front of her, and Yukari watched the trigger being pulled. Yukari kicked up from the floor and immediately broke for the port wall, rifle back into that little crook between her shoulder and her neck. She cut off the sensory reception from her leg a split second after a scalar bolt clipped it. Yukari was glad she could not see the flesh be blasted and blackened.

As the rifle came toward its target, Yukari fixed on the face of the Neko. Bloodied and ripped apart, on the top-left of its head. And a jagged stump where the thing's horn had been.

She had not seen the horn before firing. Nor had she seen the large chunk of it laying scattered on the ground. Yukari did not curse herself, for now, but she did fire two more rounds.

Contact. One to the collarbone that burst open in a cloud of red, and the thing's right ear evaporated from the second shot. Then the front of the rifle flashed blue and flew from her hands. Advantage lost.

Yukari touched off the port wall and sailed back to the stern-end head first, eyes searching for the Neko. Where? She had to be close.

Above, fast. The knife was out as Yukari started falling down toward her landing point. She watched it slice the air, coming faster, faster still, too fast, diamond glittering in cold light.

It pierced her belly. Drove through, double-edged smoothness finding mostly blood. Then the serrations came, jaggedly tearing at the edges of the wound rather nastily. Yukari's eyes found the NSP, hanging from the Neko's weaker hand. Her support hand.

A plan crystallized. Only a couple seconds were available, but Yukari reached out to the support hand with both of hers and threw herself around to get behind the Neko, as hard as her adversary let her.

Her eyes saw the floor. Nearly there. The knife was still in her gut. Now she was behind the Neko's weaker arm, the one she did not shoot with, did not stab with. She turned her own body with all the momentum she could muster, her flying skills finally giving her an offensive edge. Her heels found the Neko's forearm.

The crunch was sickening. But the fingers sprung loose, and the NSP cracked into and off of the floor. Yukari's downward momentum folded her legs, liked locked springs, and she jumped for the NSP as gracelessly as she imagined she would. Her dominant hand found it, just a couple shots left. She finally stopped against the wall, hard, sending the air and blood in her lungs out in a thick mess.

The Neko was on her feet. Was already coming at her. That was a lot of pain rushing at her too, nearly as fast as the Neko.

Yukari almost choked on the tiny breath she had time to take. But she fired anyway.

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Chill.

Yukari had never realized how the TA-14 diamond knife felt -- the blade, that is. She did not use one; did not even have one. She'd held one by the grip less than half-a-dozen times. But now, with one sunk into her belly, all the way to the hilt, she now knew. Chill. So very chill.

The Neko lay almost exactly where it was generated. The rest of its head was gone, a leaky stump giving Yukari a bloody mirror to inspect herself in.

Swipes and smears of blood were everywhere. Bits of flesh, too; Yukari looked down at the inflamed, surging hole where a part of her thigh had been. She coughed, hacking up a little more blood. Tom might be upset with her hair.

The timer had stopped on nine minutes, 37 seconds. Her strategy of wearing down the Neko had failed, but she had succeeded. In a way.

Except for the fact she was a lot of pain. But now she felt sleepy. Propped up against the wall, she gripped the knife and with remarkable calm ripped it out.

Oh. That hurt much more. But as her blood flowed over her boy shorts, she felt at least a little warm. Her eyelids were getting much heavier. She tore off her sports bra, ripped it up, made the best tourniquet/bandage she could, and tied it around herself so the wound would bleed a little less. That felt better.

How exhausting, she thought. A peaceful smile on her blood-spattered face, Yukari slept.

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Scene: This morning

Waking up was hard to do. But Yukari's eyes creaked open anyway to the same light of the VR room. She was still slumped against the wall.

Her stomach was the first thing to greet her. It growled like a beast was ready to burst forth from her body. Every part of her ached. Her eyes went to her stomach, which really hurt — the wound had healed as far as it could with the energy she had available, but there was still an angry, jagged red crease where the knife had penetrated her.

Her leg was fine, if pained. Her ear, she could feel, was OK too. Bruises, however, were in various places on her body, mostly her arms, shoulders and back. Yukari's internal diagnostics had prioritized what wounds needed mending, then shut down her body to conserve energy. She was sure that was not something the NH-17 was capable of, but she did not recall.

So, purple splotches and all, Yukari came to her feet. She kept her back to the wall, grunted from the bruises flaring up.

"Would you like your battle summary now, Shosa?" Miharu asked. Hesitation pervaded the computer's tone.

"How long have I slept?" Yukari replied.

"Not much longer than the other crew. Everyone is mostly awake."

Yukari nodded. "I see." She screwed her eyes shut as another bruise flared from what she thought was a gentle touch from her finger. "Please show me my summary."

"Yes ma'am."


Yukari looked at the summary for a moment more, then nodded. "Transmit this to my datapad, please. Thank you, Miharu."

She was not surprised with her score. She had survived, which was important, but it was hardly a probable event, and it was a very weak win. It was hard to care any further, as the beast inside Yukari's body roared again.

Yukari walked very slowly to the VR room's door, then out of it. She put her right hand against the bulkhead to help her slowly walk down the steps to the wardroom, while her free arm covered her chest, in case there was anyone there.

The officer did not look up, instead keeping to the bulkhead as she headed for the galley. Sanjuro, because of how still he always seemed to stand, was not noticed.

Sora pulled on her boots and ran a brush through her hair. "I guess you're right. It's more fun this way."

After another few minutes of brushing her hair, she set her brush down again and pulled it up into a ponytail, securing it with a green hair tie. "All right. I'm all set to go," she said with a warm smile as she secured her gun belt around her hips. "I hope we can get the organization of the bay in order today. But I'm glad we're finished with the examinations of the crew and their back-ups. How do you feel about a field triage simulation exercise at some point?"

Kotori allowed herself a smirk seeing Tom's antics and then finished rinsing off. After she shut the water, the black-haired nekovalkyrja stood up, returned the stool back to the stack near the entrance of the public baths and then more, basket in hand, to the warm-water baths themselves. Setting the woven basket to one side, she slid her feet in and quietly settled down, basking in the water's warmth.

* * *

In the kitchen, Hinoto industriously sliced off a freshly baked loaf of crusted bread and wrapped the cut pieces inside a sheet of alumnium foil to have them keep warm before heading out herself and setting the whole thing upon the table. The white haired sprite then dashed back to the kitchen with a "Don't mind the formalities - you should start eating before the food cools!" Hinoto then moved on to seizing glasses and fetching some juice.

Mara, on the other hand, was still being useless and crunching on sugary cereals.

Sanjuro merely bowed slightly, acknowledging Miyoko's gratefulness with as much sincerity as he could muster. Although his permanent poker-face failed to display it, Sanjuro was glad to see that his assistance to Miyoko's shoddy workmanship was being taken for what it was. Sanjuro felt obligated assist Miyoko in her duties to the best of his ability ever since the beginning, when her ineptitude became painfully apparent when he first looked over her notes and records during her position as chief medical officer. They were...lackluster, as least to the ever-perfect Sanjuro.

As Miyoko left towards the kitchen once more, Sanjuro took it upon himself to continue monitoring her progress and correcting her numerous mistakes...after all, she seemed to be very grateful for his assistance earlier. Why stop there?

Yukari took a turn and stepped into the kitchen, eyes rising to search for the snack machine —

And there she saw Miyoko's back as she was working the dishes; Mara munching on cereal; and Hinoto doing the cooking. Seconds passed like minutes, but Yukari was able to turn and come back out of the kitchen's entryway.

It was then she saw Sanjuro setting the table. As quietly as she could, she began to hobble back toward her room. She hoped Tom was awake.

"It certainly was fortunate that we got the backups and physicals out of the way," Serizawa agreed with Sora as he finished sliding his boots over his feet.

The scientist frowned in displeasure for a brief second when Sora mentioned the idea of a field triage exercise. He still was not overly confident in his medical skills. While he could sort patients based on urgency, hasty treatment was not something he was fond of.

"Well, there's plenty of time to plan for some of the more complex training exercises later on today," Serizawa spoke, evading the subject as best he could. "Right now, let's just work on getting breakfest, okay?"