The ship was to be on her way soon, and the fight would be taken to the Kuvexians, as every other military ship prepped itself for. In a way, it seemed largely that the war effort was showing an extreme fault somewhere in the process, with Yamatai losses being extreme and severe, planets and naval forces falling in rampant succession. Losses built, and victories seemed to slow to a crawl. If there was to be a massive change in tactic, then Care did not see it, and if the ship was to meet a similar fate, then it would do so with our without her input. She was a medical bot, after all, it's not like she held the secret tactic to beating an enemy force that seemed comically evil as if they had been pulled from decades of the literature of extreme capitalists ventures and the risk of unrestrained markets.
Synthetic, soulless eyes scanned those around her. There were cheers and hopeful anxieties, shouts of war and conflict, of honor and confidence in their battle prowess. Those cheers would fade in the battle drums of gunfire, their anxieties to begin would be replaced with that of it ending, and their shouts calling war to them would quickly fall once they realized that the dog they called to them was wild, and would tear them apart without heart, without mercy.
They marched towards that eldritch oblivion of death and unnatural killing, and Care could only stare forward, knowing that she wouldn't turn away because she had nowhere else to go, nothing else to do. An island of isolating insignificance, where the only difference between life or death was whether she had the capacity to think of how it affected her.
Already the pull of social circles drew people into their groups of comforting back-and-forths, and Care found herself quickly alone in a crowded room, mulling over thoughts and the sitting reminders of her head that ticked and clicked to retain her unconscious attention.
One of them, the one that sat uncomfortably in her mind was a request for maintenance,
her maintenance by the android technician of the ship. She had seen the woman, and had largely expected to never really interact with her unless absolutely necessary. She had seen the other androids, all of them as unimpressively advanced as everything else Yamatai offered. Blind mechanisms of purpose and function, better built than her by multiple magnitudes, while also simultaneously being practically identical in appearance to organics.
She despised them.
Regardless, it was polite to at least speak with the technician, even if it was to simply tell the woman that any concept of Yamatai blueprints and standards in terms of android functions would be utterly and completely useless when considering who, and what, Care was. She turned from the group, heading to the cargo bay as she sent a message in return to Seina.
Good afternoon,
Santô Hei.
This message is in acknowledgement to your request of maintenance. I am currently in route to the Cargo Bay.
Respectfully,
Jôtô Heisho TraumaPatcher Care Seven Six 76-6165-3411