ShotJon
Well-Known Member
21st of September, YE34
One, two, three, four... Bastion counted as she did push-ups. Her large body was down and then back up with each number. Her finger were balled in a fists pressing against the ground and her strong arms were lifting her body with surprising ease. The number in her head was quickly rising. She did like to exercise, helped her think about stuff more clearly. And it killed time. On LSDF Akahar, one really needed to know how to kill time.
"Fifty," she said and stopped. She then truned around, laying on her back and moved to sit-ups. Her eyes started looking around the training room to check who else was there if anybody. Training was not something most of the crew of this ship did.
They settled on the figure of a white helashio in a fighter's singlet, standing with a towel around her neck, watching in silence. When Bastion's eyes settled on her, she didn't flinch, or stop watching.
The two of them were the only ones presently in the work-out room. The helashio stood still very well; notably not even her tail, which she had curled just slightly while watching, had moved since their eyes had caught. She seemed like some sort of background; a statue, not a person.
Bastion stopped in middle of move. The helashio was watching her for some reason. Was she waiting if Bastion wanted something from her? She did have a collar, so she was a slave. But she might have been someone's slave. Not just ship-slave. Bastion did not have any requests anyway. The helashio was somewhat strange though. She was so still, Bastion looked back her still in stopped in middle of the sit-up. She felt her abdominal muscles stretching, as she froze in middle of lifting her body. Like that Bastion stopped moving and watched the helashio, awaiting any reaction.
They stared at each other, perfectly still, for almost a quarter of a minute. Then it prolonged into half a minute. Then a minute. Only then Bastion sighed and finished the sit-up staying up. She folded her arms together and let them be on her knees, still looking at the helashio. Bastion could have stayed like that longer, but all that would she got from that would be a cramp and she wanted to do more training today.
"Care to help me?" Bastion then asked to kill the silence. "I could use someone hold my feet while I do sit-ups?" She said. Bastion herself was nto much clothed. Her body was only covered in small sport top just enough to cover her breasts and shoulder, letting her abs being shown to whole work and a stretchy tight shorts.
"If you spot me afterwards, I don't mind," the helashio answered, pulling the towel from around her neck and coiling it around her hands, her body suddenly seeming to move all at once; her tail resumed its lazy swing and curl, her posture relaxed slightly, and even her walk seemed abrupt after all that stillness. As if suddenly she'd stepped back into the moving world, she knelt at Bastion's feet, and secured them firmly to the deck.
This close, it was obvious that the singlet was hiding more than cleavage; the helashio, with her short slick-back haircut, slave or not, wasn't any sort of pushover.
"Thank you," Bastion replied softly and then put her hands back behind her head. She resumed her exercise, moving her upper body back to the ground and then back up. A simple task. Except she did it one hundred and fifty times. She sped up several times, then slowed up again. When she was done she remained laying on the ground, seeminly not really tired. Hundred or so sit-up cannot phase someone who can lift almost a ton after all.
"Thanks, it is easier when somone holds your feet." She said and took a towel laying next to her, wiping what little sweat was on her face. "You are new on the ship right? I have not seen you around before."
The white irises seemed fixed for a moment, before the helashio shrugged. "Yea. You are infantry?"
"Surprisingly enough I am," Bastion said and stood up. She straightened up, putting her legs next to each other with only short space between them. She started doing squats. They were entirely too close, so the helashio stepped back and picked her towel up, before moving over to one of the weight benches and picking out weight.
"So am I."
-
Meanwhile... in the batty Scientist's cave..
Buttons pressing, joysticks gyrating, triggers being jerked. The best way to spend a lazy evening between assignments was on Matriarchy time, money and infrastructure to play a Nepleslian first person shooter on a large, holographic screen with surround sound.
"Owned." The executive officer had come on top of a leaderboard after a free for all. He set the controller down and looked around his not-office. The garish Phoenix Man! poster on the wall was still standing tall and smiling with a gun pointed towards the viewer, the perpetual candy fabricator was nearby and producing candy for the man's sugar addiction. It wasn't a pain killer but it was still an addiction.
"You know, there is probably some regulation or ruling against using tax payer money for Nepleslian designed entertainment when you're supposed to be doing something important." Said a voice from Keib's doorway.
"We bought in another hulk yesterday and its being towed. I'm entitled to some time off after a success!" He walked over to the controls for the sound system and fiddled with the knobs. Horrible, noisy Nepleslian rock and roll played over the speakers.
The Fyunnen almost smiled.... /almost/, to be honest anytime he felt bored it was always worth the venture to see what his second in command was up to. In the very least he was never left with a dull moment, although... this time it was business.. for the most part.
His foot falls thudded against the deck as he finally entered, making sure the door slid shut behind him. He fiddled with the controls for a moment before the pad shown red, locked from the inside.
"So!" the executive officer yelled over the din of the music, "What's on your mind? Take a seat, I'll load your profile up on NSS DeathWish."
The urge to instill professionalism had been around since he'd been handed this ship and the assortment of screwballs, mess ups, and generally failures that made up it's crew.. he'd given up after less then a month.. turning to less conventional methods.. although it was still present at the back of his mind as he took the offered seat. Although... he shutdown the system, his command link with the ship active as the holographic screen in front changed to something his XO would recognize. The image of their new infantry member in surgery, Hakahn was looking at him now, his expression clearly desiring answers.
Keib raised an eyebrow at Hakahn over the music, and walked back over to the stereo and turned down the music. He watched the replay. He, Greg, and Four-Six. "I had the impression that you approved. I left the door unlocked if you felt the need to intervene. Am I mistaken?" His jovial attitude had dropped somewhat in favour of getting to business, even in the midst of hushed Nepleslian rock and roll.
Hakahn shifted slightly, of course he approved, he always approved when Keib felt the need to take in another stray. The gods know, this ship had it's fair share of strays from all the houses, his question was toward another direction... whether or not realized just what he may have opened up releasing this Helashio's mind. "You know where she came from, you know what probably happened anytime something like this happens. My question is are you prepared for the possible backlash that could occur." He stated rather then asking.
"Possible? Bah." Keib seemed bemused, "If it is by a God or Goddess, they're late. If it is by another person, then I disrespectfully disagree with them." He leaned against the wall and eyed Hakahn up and down. Sixty long years, Keib had lived blissfully unaware of the world at large. Then a moon fell on his home, and his eyes were opened, "If they can't prevent a moon from falling on home, I doubt they'd get around to dealing with me. Its why I was assigned here."
He then sighed, "Plus, Her'vak Hunter is a raging glory boy, and a convenient device with which to dispose of perfectly serviceable Lorath ships." He counted the number on his hands. One, two, three, four, five. Yeah. Five.
"And he has a mother who sits on quite a few councils, the question is.. what reasons would he have to send us her." Hakahn asked to no one in particular, his finger bobbing slightly as he pointed at the playing recording. "Was there anything.. interesting about her physically? I'm assuming you've exammed her?"
He shook his head, "I was only interested in the collar and the file. No name, no previous history, no rank, just a transfer and a bullet hole." He pointed to a spot on his abdomen, just beneath his stomach, "She must've seen something, spoke out agaisnt a superior, or was a fall guy for one of her bumbling intrigues." He sighed, "I'm no doctor, though."
Hakahn grinned at that last line, showing a few teeth as he recalled a few memories. "True, you tend to cut the wrong things out." Although his eyes soon returned to the screen, "What else though, anything of interest in her body chemistry?" Asked the Fyunnen as the requested item materialized on the hologram. The scientist shook his head.
"Like I said, I was only interested in the collar." He sighed. He then rubbed his goatee and looked down at the floor. He then looked at his belly, and raised an eyebrow at where he'd found the bullet wound on Four Six. He gave it a few prods thoughtfully and frowned, "What are you suggesting...?" His eyebrows raised and his expression was grave, having completely lost his jovial pretense.
He tapped the image, specifcially a close up of the bullet wound. "Her'vak is an idiot, but even he's received basic training in marksmanship, why put a bullet in her there?" He asked, tapping the wound's image. Keib's expression went completely blank as he finally connected the dots. He dismounted himself from the wall and looked for the sink in his kitchenette, and made himself a glass of water, drinking it and sloshing it in his mouth for a moment before spitting it out into the sink. He looked back at Hakahn, and his eyes looked positively wild. His hair could be seen standing up as his grip on psionic control started to loosen.
Hakahn however remained ever thoughtful, his finger still tapping the image. "Theories my good boy, do you have any?" He asked in a perfectly.. almost coldy.. calm voice.
He stepped forward, and with each step, the room shook a little. The figurines and Neplesliana jingled on the shelves as he set his cup down. "Could have. Been accused. Heresy. Interbreeding." He managed to say between breaths, calmed by Hakahn's presence as the messenger, "Disposable asset. Broken Rubber? Unknown!" The cup behind him started to crack with the power of his mind.
"Would fit his profile, he tends to break things... then get rid of them... ships.. personnel... they're all the same to his type.. " Hakahn continued to ponder, seemingly unaware or ignoring his XO's outbursts. "The question is.. what greater methodology lies behind this.. I'm gravely curious..."
"It's an idiot's. His mum. Always behind him. On coattails." He said, "Holds power. Fixes. On councils. As you said." He was starting to calm down. His clipped speech was starting to subside, and the things in his room stopped rattling. "I think we're on to something. Off the books and between jobs, we don't want the Higher Ups to get a whiff of this. It'll be biblical for us, them and the Matriarchy." A feral grin came across the scientist's face.
"Though one should ask, how our little package of theoretical evidence arrived." Hakahn noted, a slight bit of worry showing in his facial muscles as he watched the recording to the end.. showing the creature that was the subject of there little discussion sit on the operating table until it ended.
"Matters not. As far as we know, this is just a happy coincidence, and all of the black sheep come here one day. We're the shepherds, figuratively speaking." He smiled and put his hands out, "So! Who's ready to see a flock of sheep tear a wolf to pieces?"
--------------
Bastion kept doing her squats, watching the Helashio. Her eyebrows came together a little. "Did you stretch yet?" She then asked. Going and starting weight-lifting right away was not good idea after all and Bastion used to teach about stuff like that. Old habits kept showing up every now and then.
"I do all that in my room," the helashio explained, idly, fitting the weights onto the bar one after the other. "I just couldn't stand..."
And at that the gentle tail-sway stopped, again; like some sort of barometer for mood, it had chilled and frozen. Gradually it thawed, and the jumpy weightlifter continued, "I wanted to meet the rest of the infantry."
Bastion chuckled a little. She wanted to say that she met, but it would be wrong. There were more people who could have been considered members of infantry. In reality on this shop, everyone did what was needed. It ran on the skeleton crew and everyone was needed. "Well there is more of us," Bastion replied. "You will be able to see them at mess this evening. Well at least those who won't be on duty."
"I don't like the mess," admitted the white helashio, settling down on the bench and swiveling so that she could lay down on it. Preliminarily, she settled her hands on the bar, testing her grip. Bastion stopped doing her squats and moved toward the bench standing next to the helashio's head. Her hands were ready to spot, should the girl drop the weight.
There was a sort of unspoken tension there; if the helashio was indeed infantry, rather than a collared slave, she'd eat in the mess. But if she were a slave, she wouldn't. Apparently she occupied some sort of middle ground; that was unspoken, quick deduction.
The Helashio lifted the weight off the stand, and began to slowly lower it. Bastion's hands we lowering with the weight, just under the bar and not being in the way of the Helashio. Bastion did know how to spot well enough.
The helashio did ten reps, before settling the bar back onto the pegs and stretching her arms out. It wasn't as much as Bastion could have done, not even a third, but then again, Bastion was a whole lot bigger than even most Lorath, Bastion was a Funnyun, and Bastion had some cybernetic enhancements, too. From the look of the helashio, she was just a helashio - naturally limited.
"I must ask you one thing," Bastion said, while the girl was taking a breather. The large lorath looked doen on her companion with curious look. "Are you free or someone owns you?" She asked simply. There was no reason going around the topic.
Relaxing her arms to either side, the Helashio answered, "Free, I think."
"You...," Bastion repled with here eyebrows raies. "Think? Well you should clear that out I think." She added and chuckled.
"The executive officer says I'm free," the helashio explained, arms still out. Of a sudden, she winced, and touched at her head, closing her eyes for a few moments as though she were in some sort of pain. When she cracked open another eyes, she stated, "I'm a soldier. I'm just a soldier. Really, what sort of question is that? Just because I'm wearing this collar?"
Bastion shrugged. "It is fairly normal question." Bastion said and she really thought that. "I did not meet a single free helashio until Yamatai showed up. And now half of your people are free and half is not. Give or take. I do not really care much whether you are slave or not, I did not plan to start giving you orders or anything do not worry. I just wanted to know."
The helashio took a deep breath. "Now you do."
The tall fyunnen replied with a nod. "Ready for another round?" She asked, ready to spot again. She thought Helashio had more then enough breather and should be ready for next set by now.
After a certain amount of thoughtful consideration, the Helashio nodded. "Easy."
She reached up and took hold of the bar, lifted it, and started over again. Slowly down, slowly up. But it was a lot of weight, and eventually the reps got a little faster, bit by bit, as the girl struggled with the bar. She finished the second set of seven, and then dropped the bar back on the hooks, and gaved a raggedy sigh, flexing feeling back into her arms.
"I bet this looks pathetic to you, right?"
"Should it?" Bastion asked back, making sure that the bar was safely in the hooks. "I disagree. You are lifting over 400 kilograms. That is pretty remarkable for Helashio. Especially a woman. You are lucky even. At least there are enough weight for you to bench press properly."
The smooth-haired helashio laughed a little as the tension went out of her again. Her smile seemed genuine but ironic, and when she drew another breath, she flared her flat little nose. "I guess there's enough weight here I could be lifting forever. I bet you can lift this one handed, though, right?"
Bastion's eyes went to the bar. It had a little over 200 kilograms on each side. The bar was way too long though. The weight was okay, but she would not be able to keep balance with that long bar.
"I could." Bastion simply replied, but did not move to do so. RIght thing she could need is for the thing to loose the balance and fall on the white girl's head.
"That's real depressing." The girl's bleached pupils had opened up again. She settled her hands on the bar again, but only hung on with her fingers. "I wonder sometimes why I try at all."
Bastion just shrugged. She took a small bar from the ground and started putting some 50kg weights on it. Weight was from neriminium, a very very heavy metal. She put four on each side, leaving just enough space for her hand. She wanted to try to lift that weight herself. She ussually liften less one handed. The lorath knew she could do it.
"That is easy," Bastion said and stood up, holding the heavy weight in her hand. She then lifted it up front, keeping her arm complertely straight. The arms still shook, as the dumbbell it was very heavy for that kind of exercise. Bastion then bent her arm arm, lifting the dumbbell and moving it towards he shoulder. Her biceps muscles enlarged from the sheer effort. "Stop wondering. Keep trying." Bastion then said and stretched her arm again. She started training like that.
The helashio on the bench settled her hands in her lap, watching Bastion from her recline. Propping a leg up, curling her tail around, she resembled a curious animal very strongly. Almost like a pet, or some sort of wild animal, watching bright-eyed from a tree-branch. "Why aren't you an officer?"
Bastion chuckled again and shook her head a little. Why indeed. "Well because I am on this ship of course." She said, not willing to really explain what that mean.
Sitting up, the helashio asked, quite contrary to the hint. "What's wrong with this ship?"
The tall fyunnen sighed and stopped exercising, slowly putting the dumbbell on the ground. "This is a ship for screw-ups and people the higher-ups don't want with 'proper' soldiers. I was unlucky and I got here and I remained at my rank for three bloody years now." She explained and sat on the bench next to the Helashio.
"Unlucky?"
"Unlucky," Bastion replied with a nod. "HQ does not want soldier that witnessed a mutiny to be part of regular ship's crew. I got put here. Hidden. No one's trouble."
Taking this all in, turning her head away to view some other equipment, though which one exactly was difficult to determine. "What do you think about the officers? I mean, the Captain and the Exec."
"Captain?" Bastion stroke her chin and gave that a little thought. "He is... special cause. Good tactician, good leader. But mission is more important for him then you are. XO is insane. But good natured man. Personally I try to stay clear of captain and when I need to report something or talk with our glorious leadership I go to XO Howler. Not only he is more .... nice, his assisstant Greg will also make you a tea. Always. And it is one fine tea!"
Licking at her teeth, the Helashio speculated, "He spikes it, I think."
Warrior looked to her side at the young helashio. She extended her larger hand for handshake. "I am Bastion by the way." She said.
The helashio looked at the hand, going still as she considered taking it. Finally, she did, although she made sure not to grip too hard - in case there was some sort of retaliation. "Four Six. Most people just call me Scout."
Bastion grip was nto very strong. It was certainly not cold fisht, but it was not exactly firm. As if the tall warrior woman was afraid to tighten the grip too much.
Keib strode into the exercise room with Greg in tow. He looked at one of the mirrors in the wall and realised that his previous outburst had left his hair on edge. He licked his palm and straightened it with a wry smile before turning his attention to his soldiers, "Ah, Four Six, Bastion, how are you two doing?" He was wearing a t-shirt with a picture of a man with sideburns on it, and the words 'Phoenix Man!' beneath it.
Four Six stood up and saluted, fluidly, but short of crisp and so did Bastion. "Sir." They both said.
"At ease, Soldiers," He said casually. Greg gave the two soldiers a wave, "So, killing time?" He and the others could hear the sound of a punching bag being attacked in the exercise room. Keib looked over to the other corner of the room and found another soldier. Fyuunen, the one with the temper problem. "Ah, Al'ris, glad of you to-" Keib was greeted by a flying punching bag. He sidestepped to avoid it and it landed some distance behind him in a heap. He stopped talking and just smiled at the Fyuunen warrior woman.
"Another?" Bastion said, stood up and picked up the punching bag or what was left of it with one hand. "If you keep at it like this Bomber, there will be no punching bags left." The taller of the two fyunnens frowned. Four Six, momentarily out of the limelight, crossed her arms and curled her tail around her stomach, going still as she watched. It didn't seem like nerves - it was just a sort of calm.
It was more or less the stance of most helashio, most of the time; surrounded by much larger soldiers, it was better just to fade.
"Those cost money too." Keib addressed the warcost money, you know." Keib addressed the warrior woman sternly. Al'ris, AKA: The Bomber looked at the remains of the punching bag and shrugged at the smaller New Tur'Lista she had to serve under.
"Aww fucking hell not again!" Came a shout from across the compartment, standing in the threshold and clearly the source of the shout was a burly Lmanel named Yar'mak. His short but powerful stocky form nearly filling the door way as he stepped in, a chomped cigar hanging from one side of his jaw and a sizable incisor showing from the other. Both of his angry eyes where fixed on the shredded excercise equipment... his responisiblity... "BOMBER I'M GONNA KICK YUR ASS!"
"Greg, popcorn. This is gonna be good." Keib said before finding somewhere to sit and rubbing his legs with a grin.
Bastion put her hand on the Helashio's shoulder softly. "You better step aside." She said and did so herself. If the Bomber and the Hound wanted to handle this with fists, they can.
But Four Six's shoulder felt rigid; she didn't shake, but she was definately focused. Her tail was moving slightly against her midriff, snaking itself in something akin to agitation.
"Try not to knock out too many teeth, or I'll have to hire a dedicated dentist!" Keib hollered, before being passed some popcorn, "Thank you Greg." Greg had a box for himself too.
The Bomber threw the first punch, naturally. A heavy-handed, overbalanced overhand chop and a yowl.
Her blow would strike home, thudding into densely packed muscle. Yar'mak however showed little sign of it having an effect, closing the distance for his favorite method of fighting: The grapple. The Bomber was easily grappled, but started using her elbows to hit the shorter Llmanel's head and shoulders, trying to push him against a wall while she was at it.
Each blow sent stars across the angry Lmanel's vision, although his anger drowned out most of the pain as he tried to lift her into the air, wanting to throw her to the ground. Her overbearing misbalance in the heat of the fight had given the Llmanel a decent enough leverage to hurl her down. Onto her ass she went - bam, thud. The room shook just a little bit.
"Get up ya tall fuck!" Yar'mak shouted, slamming one of his feet into her fallen body. "We ain't done yet!" She replied by sweeping her leg to his as he was about to put his slamming foot down, giving her an opening to kick him in the legs. She then got back onto her feet, knuckles cracking.
Keib sighed as he watched the fight and looked over to Bastion, "Like seals fighting over a grape." He commented.
He dropped to the ground with a loud thud even as she got to her feet, even angrier now as he started to recover, spouting various curses about the Fyunnen's ancestors.
Nearby Keib's elbow, beneath the direct line of conversation - or perhaps not so much, since her ears were perked as far as they'd go, Four Six asked, "What rank are they?"
"Well," Keib pointed out as Al'ris smashed the Hound in the ribs, "Al'ris is a Trooper. Has been since she got here. Poor habit of not dying despite... well, you know." Crunch! "The Hound is a just a Soldier. Better at not dying, but the Higher Ups won't let me hand out a promotion."
Yar'mak grunted as he managed to get some leverage, launching himself at the Fyunnen again, catching her in the midsection and sending them both smashing into the nearest piece of exercise machinery.
Tilting her head up, but not taking her eyes away from the brawl, Four Six continued, "Why?"
"Don't know. They're stingy, the Higher Ups, couldn't give a rat's arse about this ship or the people on it." He then saw where the brawl was heading and frowned, "Hold that thought." He raised a hand and extricated the two fighters from the smashed weights rack with the power of his mind. He held them apart and yelled: "Alright, you know the rule. Property damage means neither of you win." Al'ris seemed annoyed at this, and kept swinging her fists, "Calm. Down." The executive officer commanded.
She did. Somehow. Simple minds are easily swayed, even in bloodlust. The Lmanel had... for the same reason stopped... mid swing holdhing his massive fist in mid air.
That was when Al'ris found a small Helashio soldier in front of her, bristling. Well, as much as a thing with slicked-back hair could bristle. It was the way her tail was moving that gave the impression. Before, Four Six had been as still as a statue; now even standing still she gave off the vibe of movement. She was resonating, practically.
"That's not how you do it. Go on. Hit me."
"What?" Both Keib and Al'ris asked simultaneously, caught off guard.
"Shhh," Bastion said. She had noticed the change of posture on the helashio. "Just watch them XO. I have a feeling you are going ot see something interesting." At least if Bastion read Four's body language right. Greg passed her its box of popcorn, which Bastion politely declined with raised palm.
Keib gave Al'ris a nod to continue. She threw a punch.
The Helashio stepped forward, under the strike - or rather, forward and slightly to the side. She hadn't deflected it, but her opposite arm was suddenly there, forearm striking, palm flat and to the sky.
"Like this," she said as she swung her stance, spinning almost like a dancer around the larger combatant's outside, "And you grab their arm like so!" she said as she did it, quicker than Keib's surprised blink. Four's left heel met the inside of Al'ris's knee, "then hit where it hurts."
Snake-quick, the helashio's tail snapped for balance to offset her heavier strike and maintain her own footing, but it was practiced, one movement to the next. "Twist like so, and..." Continuing her spin, the helashio threw her opponent down - but not quite.
She held onto Al'ris's arm, and stopped her moments before an impact. A head impact.
With all the fluidity in the world, she stepped over the arm, leaned on the palm, and twisted it.
"Now, tap or I break it."
Yar'mak just stood dumbstruck by what he couldn't believe, his cigar falling to the ground as he just watched. Unable to comprehend that a Fyunnen he'd spent most of his time on this ship fighting got bested by a helashio.
Who sent me this? Keib pondered beside the Captain, Such skill and grace. They only teach that to... "I'd tap out if I were you. I don't want to strain the only doctor on ship more than we have to."
Al'ris tapped out and managed to muster a single, dumbly appropriate sentence: "I just had my arse handed to me by a Helashio - but... I'm not mad. Not mad at all." She jellyfished out on the mat, physically and mentally defeated.
Four Six paused to rub her ear against her head with her palm, as if she were having some sort of trouble, or massaging away a headache as she looked at the floored woman. But whatever troubled Four quickly passed. She glanced to Keib warily before offering her hand down to the much larger Trooper, who accepted the hand up.
"I'm sorry," Four Six said, tail flicking back and forth, curling at the end, coiling and uncoiling electrically, "I'll show you how if you want."
Bastion chucled and moved back toward the group. She gave a pat at Al'ris's shoulder. "Very nice," she said and smiled more. "Finally a member of infantry I won't have to teach how to fight." She said and laughed more, sitting on one of the benches. "Remember this next tome I'll ask if you want to do some hand-to-hand training Al'ris."
Keib rubbed his head in reflection and concern. This avenue he'd decided to pursue might've been more trouble than it was worth - maybe deadly trouble. Still, the truth was out there. This is a curious development. She's clearly worth her salt as a Cadet with a move like that.
"Okay, time out, I think we all need a rest. Greg, tea, all of us, extra sugar for me."
One, two, three, four... Bastion counted as she did push-ups. Her large body was down and then back up with each number. Her finger were balled in a fists pressing against the ground and her strong arms were lifting her body with surprising ease. The number in her head was quickly rising. She did like to exercise, helped her think about stuff more clearly. And it killed time. On LSDF Akahar, one really needed to know how to kill time.
"Fifty," she said and stopped. She then truned around, laying on her back and moved to sit-ups. Her eyes started looking around the training room to check who else was there if anybody. Training was not something most of the crew of this ship did.
They settled on the figure of a white helashio in a fighter's singlet, standing with a towel around her neck, watching in silence. When Bastion's eyes settled on her, she didn't flinch, or stop watching.
The two of them were the only ones presently in the work-out room. The helashio stood still very well; notably not even her tail, which she had curled just slightly while watching, had moved since their eyes had caught. She seemed like some sort of background; a statue, not a person.
Bastion stopped in middle of move. The helashio was watching her for some reason. Was she waiting if Bastion wanted something from her? She did have a collar, so she was a slave. But she might have been someone's slave. Not just ship-slave. Bastion did not have any requests anyway. The helashio was somewhat strange though. She was so still, Bastion looked back her still in stopped in middle of the sit-up. She felt her abdominal muscles stretching, as she froze in middle of lifting her body. Like that Bastion stopped moving and watched the helashio, awaiting any reaction.
They stared at each other, perfectly still, for almost a quarter of a minute. Then it prolonged into half a minute. Then a minute. Only then Bastion sighed and finished the sit-up staying up. She folded her arms together and let them be on her knees, still looking at the helashio. Bastion could have stayed like that longer, but all that would she got from that would be a cramp and she wanted to do more training today.
"Care to help me?" Bastion then asked to kill the silence. "I could use someone hold my feet while I do sit-ups?" She said. Bastion herself was nto much clothed. Her body was only covered in small sport top just enough to cover her breasts and shoulder, letting her abs being shown to whole work and a stretchy tight shorts.
"If you spot me afterwards, I don't mind," the helashio answered, pulling the towel from around her neck and coiling it around her hands, her body suddenly seeming to move all at once; her tail resumed its lazy swing and curl, her posture relaxed slightly, and even her walk seemed abrupt after all that stillness. As if suddenly she'd stepped back into the moving world, she knelt at Bastion's feet, and secured them firmly to the deck.
This close, it was obvious that the singlet was hiding more than cleavage; the helashio, with her short slick-back haircut, slave or not, wasn't any sort of pushover.
"Thank you," Bastion replied softly and then put her hands back behind her head. She resumed her exercise, moving her upper body back to the ground and then back up. A simple task. Except she did it one hundred and fifty times. She sped up several times, then slowed up again. When she was done she remained laying on the ground, seeminly not really tired. Hundred or so sit-up cannot phase someone who can lift almost a ton after all.
"Thanks, it is easier when somone holds your feet." She said and took a towel laying next to her, wiping what little sweat was on her face. "You are new on the ship right? I have not seen you around before."
The white irises seemed fixed for a moment, before the helashio shrugged. "Yea. You are infantry?"
"Surprisingly enough I am," Bastion said and stood up. She straightened up, putting her legs next to each other with only short space between them. She started doing squats. They were entirely too close, so the helashio stepped back and picked her towel up, before moving over to one of the weight benches and picking out weight.
"So am I."
-
Meanwhile... in the batty Scientist's cave..
Buttons pressing, joysticks gyrating, triggers being jerked. The best way to spend a lazy evening between assignments was on Matriarchy time, money and infrastructure to play a Nepleslian first person shooter on a large, holographic screen with surround sound.
"Owned." The executive officer had come on top of a leaderboard after a free for all. He set the controller down and looked around his not-office. The garish Phoenix Man! poster on the wall was still standing tall and smiling with a gun pointed towards the viewer, the perpetual candy fabricator was nearby and producing candy for the man's sugar addiction. It wasn't a pain killer but it was still an addiction.
"You know, there is probably some regulation or ruling against using tax payer money for Nepleslian designed entertainment when you're supposed to be doing something important." Said a voice from Keib's doorway.
"We bought in another hulk yesterday and its being towed. I'm entitled to some time off after a success!" He walked over to the controls for the sound system and fiddled with the knobs. Horrible, noisy Nepleslian rock and roll played over the speakers.
The Fyunnen almost smiled.... /almost/, to be honest anytime he felt bored it was always worth the venture to see what his second in command was up to. In the very least he was never left with a dull moment, although... this time it was business.. for the most part.
His foot falls thudded against the deck as he finally entered, making sure the door slid shut behind him. He fiddled with the controls for a moment before the pad shown red, locked from the inside.
"So!" the executive officer yelled over the din of the music, "What's on your mind? Take a seat, I'll load your profile up on NSS DeathWish."
The urge to instill professionalism had been around since he'd been handed this ship and the assortment of screwballs, mess ups, and generally failures that made up it's crew.. he'd given up after less then a month.. turning to less conventional methods.. although it was still present at the back of his mind as he took the offered seat. Although... he shutdown the system, his command link with the ship active as the holographic screen in front changed to something his XO would recognize. The image of their new infantry member in surgery, Hakahn was looking at him now, his expression clearly desiring answers.
Keib raised an eyebrow at Hakahn over the music, and walked back over to the stereo and turned down the music. He watched the replay. He, Greg, and Four-Six. "I had the impression that you approved. I left the door unlocked if you felt the need to intervene. Am I mistaken?" His jovial attitude had dropped somewhat in favour of getting to business, even in the midst of hushed Nepleslian rock and roll.
Hakahn shifted slightly, of course he approved, he always approved when Keib felt the need to take in another stray. The gods know, this ship had it's fair share of strays from all the houses, his question was toward another direction... whether or not realized just what he may have opened up releasing this Helashio's mind. "You know where she came from, you know what probably happened anytime something like this happens. My question is are you prepared for the possible backlash that could occur." He stated rather then asking.
"Possible? Bah." Keib seemed bemused, "If it is by a God or Goddess, they're late. If it is by another person, then I disrespectfully disagree with them." He leaned against the wall and eyed Hakahn up and down. Sixty long years, Keib had lived blissfully unaware of the world at large. Then a moon fell on his home, and his eyes were opened, "If they can't prevent a moon from falling on home, I doubt they'd get around to dealing with me. Its why I was assigned here."
He then sighed, "Plus, Her'vak Hunter is a raging glory boy, and a convenient device with which to dispose of perfectly serviceable Lorath ships." He counted the number on his hands. One, two, three, four, five. Yeah. Five.
"And he has a mother who sits on quite a few councils, the question is.. what reasons would he have to send us her." Hakahn asked to no one in particular, his finger bobbing slightly as he pointed at the playing recording. "Was there anything.. interesting about her physically? I'm assuming you've exammed her?"
He shook his head, "I was only interested in the collar and the file. No name, no previous history, no rank, just a transfer and a bullet hole." He pointed to a spot on his abdomen, just beneath his stomach, "She must've seen something, spoke out agaisnt a superior, or was a fall guy for one of her bumbling intrigues." He sighed, "I'm no doctor, though."
Hakahn grinned at that last line, showing a few teeth as he recalled a few memories. "True, you tend to cut the wrong things out." Although his eyes soon returned to the screen, "What else though, anything of interest in her body chemistry?" Asked the Fyunnen as the requested item materialized on the hologram. The scientist shook his head.
"Like I said, I was only interested in the collar." He sighed. He then rubbed his goatee and looked down at the floor. He then looked at his belly, and raised an eyebrow at where he'd found the bullet wound on Four Six. He gave it a few prods thoughtfully and frowned, "What are you suggesting...?" His eyebrows raised and his expression was grave, having completely lost his jovial pretense.
He tapped the image, specifcially a close up of the bullet wound. "Her'vak is an idiot, but even he's received basic training in marksmanship, why put a bullet in her there?" He asked, tapping the wound's image. Keib's expression went completely blank as he finally connected the dots. He dismounted himself from the wall and looked for the sink in his kitchenette, and made himself a glass of water, drinking it and sloshing it in his mouth for a moment before spitting it out into the sink. He looked back at Hakahn, and his eyes looked positively wild. His hair could be seen standing up as his grip on psionic control started to loosen.
Hakahn however remained ever thoughtful, his finger still tapping the image. "Theories my good boy, do you have any?" He asked in a perfectly.. almost coldy.. calm voice.
He stepped forward, and with each step, the room shook a little. The figurines and Neplesliana jingled on the shelves as he set his cup down. "Could have. Been accused. Heresy. Interbreeding." He managed to say between breaths, calmed by Hakahn's presence as the messenger, "Disposable asset. Broken Rubber? Unknown!" The cup behind him started to crack with the power of his mind.
"Would fit his profile, he tends to break things... then get rid of them... ships.. personnel... they're all the same to his type.. " Hakahn continued to ponder, seemingly unaware or ignoring his XO's outbursts. "The question is.. what greater methodology lies behind this.. I'm gravely curious..."
"It's an idiot's. His mum. Always behind him. On coattails." He said, "Holds power. Fixes. On councils. As you said." He was starting to calm down. His clipped speech was starting to subside, and the things in his room stopped rattling. "I think we're on to something. Off the books and between jobs, we don't want the Higher Ups to get a whiff of this. It'll be biblical for us, them and the Matriarchy." A feral grin came across the scientist's face.
"Though one should ask, how our little package of theoretical evidence arrived." Hakahn noted, a slight bit of worry showing in his facial muscles as he watched the recording to the end.. showing the creature that was the subject of there little discussion sit on the operating table until it ended.
"Matters not. As far as we know, this is just a happy coincidence, and all of the black sheep come here one day. We're the shepherds, figuratively speaking." He smiled and put his hands out, "So! Who's ready to see a flock of sheep tear a wolf to pieces?"
--------------
Bastion kept doing her squats, watching the Helashio. Her eyebrows came together a little. "Did you stretch yet?" She then asked. Going and starting weight-lifting right away was not good idea after all and Bastion used to teach about stuff like that. Old habits kept showing up every now and then.
"I do all that in my room," the helashio explained, idly, fitting the weights onto the bar one after the other. "I just couldn't stand..."
And at that the gentle tail-sway stopped, again; like some sort of barometer for mood, it had chilled and frozen. Gradually it thawed, and the jumpy weightlifter continued, "I wanted to meet the rest of the infantry."
Bastion chuckled a little. She wanted to say that she met, but it would be wrong. There were more people who could have been considered members of infantry. In reality on this shop, everyone did what was needed. It ran on the skeleton crew and everyone was needed. "Well there is more of us," Bastion replied. "You will be able to see them at mess this evening. Well at least those who won't be on duty."
"I don't like the mess," admitted the white helashio, settling down on the bench and swiveling so that she could lay down on it. Preliminarily, she settled her hands on the bar, testing her grip. Bastion stopped doing her squats and moved toward the bench standing next to the helashio's head. Her hands were ready to spot, should the girl drop the weight.
There was a sort of unspoken tension there; if the helashio was indeed infantry, rather than a collared slave, she'd eat in the mess. But if she were a slave, she wouldn't. Apparently she occupied some sort of middle ground; that was unspoken, quick deduction.
The Helashio lifted the weight off the stand, and began to slowly lower it. Bastion's hands we lowering with the weight, just under the bar and not being in the way of the Helashio. Bastion did know how to spot well enough.
The helashio did ten reps, before settling the bar back onto the pegs and stretching her arms out. It wasn't as much as Bastion could have done, not even a third, but then again, Bastion was a whole lot bigger than even most Lorath, Bastion was a Funnyun, and Bastion had some cybernetic enhancements, too. From the look of the helashio, she was just a helashio - naturally limited.
"I must ask you one thing," Bastion said, while the girl was taking a breather. The large lorath looked doen on her companion with curious look. "Are you free or someone owns you?" She asked simply. There was no reason going around the topic.
Relaxing her arms to either side, the Helashio answered, "Free, I think."
"You...," Bastion repled with here eyebrows raies. "Think? Well you should clear that out I think." She added and chuckled.
"The executive officer says I'm free," the helashio explained, arms still out. Of a sudden, she winced, and touched at her head, closing her eyes for a few moments as though she were in some sort of pain. When she cracked open another eyes, she stated, "I'm a soldier. I'm just a soldier. Really, what sort of question is that? Just because I'm wearing this collar?"
Bastion shrugged. "It is fairly normal question." Bastion said and she really thought that. "I did not meet a single free helashio until Yamatai showed up. And now half of your people are free and half is not. Give or take. I do not really care much whether you are slave or not, I did not plan to start giving you orders or anything do not worry. I just wanted to know."
The helashio took a deep breath. "Now you do."
The tall fyunnen replied with a nod. "Ready for another round?" She asked, ready to spot again. She thought Helashio had more then enough breather and should be ready for next set by now.
After a certain amount of thoughtful consideration, the Helashio nodded. "Easy."
She reached up and took hold of the bar, lifted it, and started over again. Slowly down, slowly up. But it was a lot of weight, and eventually the reps got a little faster, bit by bit, as the girl struggled with the bar. She finished the second set of seven, and then dropped the bar back on the hooks, and gaved a raggedy sigh, flexing feeling back into her arms.
"I bet this looks pathetic to you, right?"
"Should it?" Bastion asked back, making sure that the bar was safely in the hooks. "I disagree. You are lifting over 400 kilograms. That is pretty remarkable for Helashio. Especially a woman. You are lucky even. At least there are enough weight for you to bench press properly."
The smooth-haired helashio laughed a little as the tension went out of her again. Her smile seemed genuine but ironic, and when she drew another breath, she flared her flat little nose. "I guess there's enough weight here I could be lifting forever. I bet you can lift this one handed, though, right?"
Bastion's eyes went to the bar. It had a little over 200 kilograms on each side. The bar was way too long though. The weight was okay, but she would not be able to keep balance with that long bar.
"I could." Bastion simply replied, but did not move to do so. RIght thing she could need is for the thing to loose the balance and fall on the white girl's head.
"That's real depressing." The girl's bleached pupils had opened up again. She settled her hands on the bar again, but only hung on with her fingers. "I wonder sometimes why I try at all."
Bastion just shrugged. She took a small bar from the ground and started putting some 50kg weights on it. Weight was from neriminium, a very very heavy metal. She put four on each side, leaving just enough space for her hand. She wanted to try to lift that weight herself. She ussually liften less one handed. The lorath knew she could do it.
"That is easy," Bastion said and stood up, holding the heavy weight in her hand. She then lifted it up front, keeping her arm complertely straight. The arms still shook, as the dumbbell it was very heavy for that kind of exercise. Bastion then bent her arm arm, lifting the dumbbell and moving it towards he shoulder. Her biceps muscles enlarged from the sheer effort. "Stop wondering. Keep trying." Bastion then said and stretched her arm again. She started training like that.
The helashio on the bench settled her hands in her lap, watching Bastion from her recline. Propping a leg up, curling her tail around, she resembled a curious animal very strongly. Almost like a pet, or some sort of wild animal, watching bright-eyed from a tree-branch. "Why aren't you an officer?"
Bastion chuckled again and shook her head a little. Why indeed. "Well because I am on this ship of course." She said, not willing to really explain what that mean.
Sitting up, the helashio asked, quite contrary to the hint. "What's wrong with this ship?"
The tall fyunnen sighed and stopped exercising, slowly putting the dumbbell on the ground. "This is a ship for screw-ups and people the higher-ups don't want with 'proper' soldiers. I was unlucky and I got here and I remained at my rank for three bloody years now." She explained and sat on the bench next to the Helashio.
"Unlucky?"
"Unlucky," Bastion replied with a nod. "HQ does not want soldier that witnessed a mutiny to be part of regular ship's crew. I got put here. Hidden. No one's trouble."
Taking this all in, turning her head away to view some other equipment, though which one exactly was difficult to determine. "What do you think about the officers? I mean, the Captain and the Exec."
"Captain?" Bastion stroke her chin and gave that a little thought. "He is... special cause. Good tactician, good leader. But mission is more important for him then you are. XO is insane. But good natured man. Personally I try to stay clear of captain and when I need to report something or talk with our glorious leadership I go to XO Howler. Not only he is more .... nice, his assisstant Greg will also make you a tea. Always. And it is one fine tea!"
Licking at her teeth, the Helashio speculated, "He spikes it, I think."
Warrior looked to her side at the young helashio. She extended her larger hand for handshake. "I am Bastion by the way." She said.
The helashio looked at the hand, going still as she considered taking it. Finally, she did, although she made sure not to grip too hard - in case there was some sort of retaliation. "Four Six. Most people just call me Scout."
Bastion grip was nto very strong. It was certainly not cold fisht, but it was not exactly firm. As if the tall warrior woman was afraid to tighten the grip too much.
Keib strode into the exercise room with Greg in tow. He looked at one of the mirrors in the wall and realised that his previous outburst had left his hair on edge. He licked his palm and straightened it with a wry smile before turning his attention to his soldiers, "Ah, Four Six, Bastion, how are you two doing?" He was wearing a t-shirt with a picture of a man with sideburns on it, and the words 'Phoenix Man!' beneath it.
Four Six stood up and saluted, fluidly, but short of crisp and so did Bastion. "Sir." They both said.
"At ease, Soldiers," He said casually. Greg gave the two soldiers a wave, "So, killing time?" He and the others could hear the sound of a punching bag being attacked in the exercise room. Keib looked over to the other corner of the room and found another soldier. Fyuunen, the one with the temper problem. "Ah, Al'ris, glad of you to-" Keib was greeted by a flying punching bag. He sidestepped to avoid it and it landed some distance behind him in a heap. He stopped talking and just smiled at the Fyuunen warrior woman.
"Another?" Bastion said, stood up and picked up the punching bag or what was left of it with one hand. "If you keep at it like this Bomber, there will be no punching bags left." The taller of the two fyunnens frowned. Four Six, momentarily out of the limelight, crossed her arms and curled her tail around her stomach, going still as she watched. It didn't seem like nerves - it was just a sort of calm.
It was more or less the stance of most helashio, most of the time; surrounded by much larger soldiers, it was better just to fade.
"Those cost money too." Keib addressed the warcost money, you know." Keib addressed the warrior woman sternly. Al'ris, AKA: The Bomber looked at the remains of the punching bag and shrugged at the smaller New Tur'Lista she had to serve under.
"Aww fucking hell not again!" Came a shout from across the compartment, standing in the threshold and clearly the source of the shout was a burly Lmanel named Yar'mak. His short but powerful stocky form nearly filling the door way as he stepped in, a chomped cigar hanging from one side of his jaw and a sizable incisor showing from the other. Both of his angry eyes where fixed on the shredded excercise equipment... his responisiblity... "BOMBER I'M GONNA KICK YUR ASS!"
"Greg, popcorn. This is gonna be good." Keib said before finding somewhere to sit and rubbing his legs with a grin.
Bastion put her hand on the Helashio's shoulder softly. "You better step aside." She said and did so herself. If the Bomber and the Hound wanted to handle this with fists, they can.
But Four Six's shoulder felt rigid; she didn't shake, but she was definately focused. Her tail was moving slightly against her midriff, snaking itself in something akin to agitation.
"Try not to knock out too many teeth, or I'll have to hire a dedicated dentist!" Keib hollered, before being passed some popcorn, "Thank you Greg." Greg had a box for himself too.
The Bomber threw the first punch, naturally. A heavy-handed, overbalanced overhand chop and a yowl.
Her blow would strike home, thudding into densely packed muscle. Yar'mak however showed little sign of it having an effect, closing the distance for his favorite method of fighting: The grapple. The Bomber was easily grappled, but started using her elbows to hit the shorter Llmanel's head and shoulders, trying to push him against a wall while she was at it.
Each blow sent stars across the angry Lmanel's vision, although his anger drowned out most of the pain as he tried to lift her into the air, wanting to throw her to the ground. Her overbearing misbalance in the heat of the fight had given the Llmanel a decent enough leverage to hurl her down. Onto her ass she went - bam, thud. The room shook just a little bit.
"Get up ya tall fuck!" Yar'mak shouted, slamming one of his feet into her fallen body. "We ain't done yet!" She replied by sweeping her leg to his as he was about to put his slamming foot down, giving her an opening to kick him in the legs. She then got back onto her feet, knuckles cracking.
Keib sighed as he watched the fight and looked over to Bastion, "Like seals fighting over a grape." He commented.
He dropped to the ground with a loud thud even as she got to her feet, even angrier now as he started to recover, spouting various curses about the Fyunnen's ancestors.
Nearby Keib's elbow, beneath the direct line of conversation - or perhaps not so much, since her ears were perked as far as they'd go, Four Six asked, "What rank are they?"
"Well," Keib pointed out as Al'ris smashed the Hound in the ribs, "Al'ris is a Trooper. Has been since she got here. Poor habit of not dying despite... well, you know." Crunch! "The Hound is a just a Soldier. Better at not dying, but the Higher Ups won't let me hand out a promotion."
Yar'mak grunted as he managed to get some leverage, launching himself at the Fyunnen again, catching her in the midsection and sending them both smashing into the nearest piece of exercise machinery.
Tilting her head up, but not taking her eyes away from the brawl, Four Six continued, "Why?"
"Don't know. They're stingy, the Higher Ups, couldn't give a rat's arse about this ship or the people on it." He then saw where the brawl was heading and frowned, "Hold that thought." He raised a hand and extricated the two fighters from the smashed weights rack with the power of his mind. He held them apart and yelled: "Alright, you know the rule. Property damage means neither of you win." Al'ris seemed annoyed at this, and kept swinging her fists, "Calm. Down." The executive officer commanded.
She did. Somehow. Simple minds are easily swayed, even in bloodlust. The Lmanel had... for the same reason stopped... mid swing holdhing his massive fist in mid air.
That was when Al'ris found a small Helashio soldier in front of her, bristling. Well, as much as a thing with slicked-back hair could bristle. It was the way her tail was moving that gave the impression. Before, Four Six had been as still as a statue; now even standing still she gave off the vibe of movement. She was resonating, practically.
"That's not how you do it. Go on. Hit me."
"What?" Both Keib and Al'ris asked simultaneously, caught off guard.
"Shhh," Bastion said. She had noticed the change of posture on the helashio. "Just watch them XO. I have a feeling you are going ot see something interesting." At least if Bastion read Four's body language right. Greg passed her its box of popcorn, which Bastion politely declined with raised palm.
Keib gave Al'ris a nod to continue. She threw a punch.
The Helashio stepped forward, under the strike - or rather, forward and slightly to the side. She hadn't deflected it, but her opposite arm was suddenly there, forearm striking, palm flat and to the sky.
"Like this," she said as she swung her stance, spinning almost like a dancer around the larger combatant's outside, "And you grab their arm like so!" she said as she did it, quicker than Keib's surprised blink. Four's left heel met the inside of Al'ris's knee, "then hit where it hurts."
Snake-quick, the helashio's tail snapped for balance to offset her heavier strike and maintain her own footing, but it was practiced, one movement to the next. "Twist like so, and..." Continuing her spin, the helashio threw her opponent down - but not quite.
She held onto Al'ris's arm, and stopped her moments before an impact. A head impact.
With all the fluidity in the world, she stepped over the arm, leaned on the palm, and twisted it.
"Now, tap or I break it."
Yar'mak just stood dumbstruck by what he couldn't believe, his cigar falling to the ground as he just watched. Unable to comprehend that a Fyunnen he'd spent most of his time on this ship fighting got bested by a helashio.
Who sent me this? Keib pondered beside the Captain, Such skill and grace. They only teach that to... "I'd tap out if I were you. I don't want to strain the only doctor on ship more than we have to."
Al'ris tapped out and managed to muster a single, dumbly appropriate sentence: "I just had my arse handed to me by a Helashio - but... I'm not mad. Not mad at all." She jellyfished out on the mat, physically and mentally defeated.
Four Six paused to rub her ear against her head with her palm, as if she were having some sort of trouble, or massaging away a headache as she looked at the floored woman. But whatever troubled Four quickly passed. She glanced to Keib warily before offering her hand down to the much larger Trooper, who accepted the hand up.
"I'm sorry," Four Six said, tail flicking back and forth, curling at the end, coiling and uncoiling electrically, "I'll show you how if you want."
Bastion chucled and moved back toward the group. She gave a pat at Al'ris's shoulder. "Very nice," she said and smiled more. "Finally a member of infantry I won't have to teach how to fight." She said and laughed more, sitting on one of the benches. "Remember this next tome I'll ask if you want to do some hand-to-hand training Al'ris."
Keib rubbed his head in reflection and concern. This avenue he'd decided to pursue might've been more trouble than it was worth - maybe deadly trouble. Still, the truth was out there. This is a curious development. She's clearly worth her salt as a Cadet with a move like that.
"Okay, time out, I think we all need a rest. Greg, tea, all of us, extra sugar for me."
