Man, Mare, Machine

As she reached the bottom of the mountain, Sylvia was unable to locate the other diplomat she had been guided towards. Most of the land surrounding the mountains was fairly open but she didn't see a thing.

"Hey you... Valkyrie, come here." Called a voice from one of the many boulders at the base of the ascent.

She walked over and found a man in a red shirt laying against the boulder, fiddling with a lighter while an unlit cigarette hung in his mouth. He tried getting the lighter to work time and again but got nothing but sparks each time. He eventually gave up and deposited the lighter back into his pocket.

"We can build pods that launch us from outer space but we can't make a single decent lighter for the life of us, what good is technology?"

He just stood there, staring at his cigarette like it had called him a bad name. After a few seconds, he turned to the Valkyrie again. "Hey, I asked you a question, when someone asks you something you answer." He spoke in a fairly bored tone, apparently only continuing his facade of grumpiness so as to not seem inconsistent.

"I guess technology is good because... we probably couldn't live without it?" She really didn't know a good way to explain just how useful technology was to someone who just left a spaceship. To her it was just... there, helping you all the time.

He fiddled with one of the small metal rectangles on his suspenders. After a small *click* noise, the small shape began to glow red. He held the tip of the cigarette to it until the tip erupted in a small burst of fire. Another small *click* signaled the device turning off. "When you say it like that, it makes me think that everyone couldn't even wash and feed themselves without a machine to do it." He took a very long draw on his cigarette before letting out a cough. "Work on your answer, now let's go, I want to go home and I'm pretty sure you agree with me."

She walked a little quicker than normal to reach him after he began walking away briskly. "What is our destination?" She asked. The 'ponies' as they had been named were settled in the opposite direction and the changelings were being handled by Walt from what she could tell.

Now that she got a look at him, he didn't really look like a diplomat, more like a bad gambler. His clothes were speckled with small gray rocks from where he had been laying and his hair went every which way, apparently having been left uncombed for quite some time. Surprisingly, he didn't smell like smoke. There was an odd scent scent coming from him, it was a smell that reminded her of a large hospital, the smell of faint medicine and polished metal. It was a scent that made her uncomfortable, it reminded her of her own time in the hospital shortly after becoming a Valkyrie.

A faint beeping filled the room, a constant reminder from the heart rate monitor telling her that she was, indeed, still alive. She couldn't move, every part of her body was firmly tied to the bed, not allowing so much as a twitch from the new sensitive muscles that encompassed her body. It felt disturbing, she was linked to an IV filling her with some oddly-colored fluid that she guessed was responsible for her just bearable level of pain not being worse. Despite the drugs, she could still feel a soft buzz of pain covering her body, it felt like she was a doll, torn open and filled with new stuffing, the muscles, bones, and organs inside her felt like they weren't attached, like they were just sitting atop one-another inside her.

The medicinal whiteness of the room, despite the small, lightly-colored posters dotting it's surface, made her feel trapped. It was like the ceiling was a heavy white cloth covering hers eyes along with the rest of her body, holding her tightly, like a cocoon she should have escaped from long ago but instead continued to grow and squeeze into.

Every so often, or maybe it wasn't so often, a doctor would enter, say something unintelligible, wait for a moment, then leave. She thought that they, she called all the doctors they since she could rarely differentiate between the male and female doctors, were perhaps asking her something and waiting for a response. She tried to make a few words while alone but only managed soft, low croaks. After her experiment, she felt sick, like the process of talking was disturbing something inside her, not quite in-kilter with the rest of her body yet.

She had been told that the procedure wasn't the hardest part of this process, that alone was almost enough to make her give up, not that she exactly could by this point. After the body was considered healthy enough, the patients were weened off of the painkillers and body restraints, almost like being left broken anew, this time to fend for yourself. Maybe she did give up, the doctors being the only thing keeping her alive in that room with no desire for life on her part. As with all the memories of the hospital, she could only barely remember the setting and a few events, how she actually felt or what she thought was just a haze.

She hated the hospital, she felt like the doctors around her were not doing anything to help her, not counting the IV. They left her to stew in her room, not so much waiting to see when she was healed as they were waiting for her to get up and leave so that they could use her room for a more worth-while patient.

She came back to reality as she realized they were no longer heading in the direction of the nearby village, instead venturing deeper into the forest. He apparently hadn't responded to her original question, instead continuing to walk though the greenery. "Aren't the natives in the other direction? Where are we going?"

He rummaged around in his pocket for a little while before handing her a small laminated card. On the card was a picture of a bipedal dog-like creature with two lumbering arms at it's sides. It had a small section of information on the species.

Species: 'Diamond Dog'

Behavior: Territorial, Pack-Mentality

Customs: Slavery, Banditry, Basic Metallurgy, Fixation with gems and their trading

Noticeable Habits: Often raid caravans for weapons and armor, as well as for basic resources. Enslave peaceful races to work in their mines used to harvest gems, purpose of gems unknown, likely cultural habit.

"What could we want from a species like this?" She asked, usually natives like this were ignored in negotiations, the fleet generally favored a more quick approach towards the most advanced races on a planet and that was about it.

"Believe it or not they do know how to listen to reason but due to their terrible state in resources, they are usually just driven out by better-equipped forces."

"Why isn't that on the card?"

"It's a small card, what do you want from me?" He responded as he blew three small circles of smoke. She realized as the rings dissipated that the medicinal odor got stronger afterwards. Whatever that stuff is, it definitely isn't just tobacco she thought as she waved one of the rings away that had landed a little too close to her face for her to consider an accident. It was overwhelming when sprayed in her face like that.

The Artemis had managed to reach a state of relative calm. Now that there was a concrete plan decided on, all that was left was relaying updates and keeping things under control.

Jeremiah felt good, really good, he felt like he could stand to go to a party if work wasn't waiting to pounce on him at any moment. He had managed to get out of the military portion of the ship for a little while and decided to head to a civilian cafe he liked. Of course, being the man he was, he wasn't left alone for very long.

"Ah, Jeremiah, just the man I was looking for." Announced the voice of Argrave, appearing apparently out of the ether behind Jeremiah's seat as he tended to.

Jeremiah was trying to not let his appearance spoil his relaxation time. Trying being the operative word.

"I don't have time for you Argrave, I accepted your plan, that doesn't make us friends. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some food coming and I would prefer if you didn't spoil my appetite."

Ignoring the greeting/dismissal, he seated himself across from Jeremiah at his table. "Be mature Jeremiah, I don't expect you to be my friend, just my ally."

"You're expecting a lot." He replied while taking a sip of his drink. "In all of my years, I don't think I've met a person more responsible for shortening my lifespan. Every time I see you it's some different form of nonsense guaranteed to send me to my desk a few nights later and my grave a few nights sooner."

"That's a rather harsh way to describe me isn't it? You act like I've never done anything for you. What about all those vehicles that the fleet happened to procure despite there being a manufacturing shortage? What about the hospitals always managing to scrape together just enough credits to fund their next research effort?"

"You provide resources, and for that I'm thankful, but I would suggest you stay out of political affairs. You keep up like you have and you'll be considered a weed soon, and people tend to deal with all weeds the same way."

"I'll consider your advice." He responded while resting against the chair back. "I just thought you'd like to know that we've already convinced the changelings to join us."

"Is that supposed to surprise me? I guessed that when I saw their leader getting a free ride from our soldiers, I highly doubted they would just kidnap her." He stated matter-of-factly as he took another drink, letting his eyes wander around the cafe, mostly empty save their table and a few single patrons. He wondered which of them was an informant, that being the only rational explanation for how he had been discovered so fast.

"Just thought you should know that you were correct then." He rose from his seat and patted out his suit again. "I should be going, lots of races to cozy up to."

Before he could go, Jeremiah spoke-up again. "Oh yes, Argrave?"

"Yes?" He asked as he turned around.

"Next time you want to talk, just remember, I don't want to." He stated with a trademark toothy smile.

Argrave left without saying a word, not looking very disturbed by the remark. Shortly after he left, a woman approached Jeremiah's table and took a seat next to him.

"I go to the bathroom for two minutes and you get in an argument." Scolded Angelica. "I swear, it's like you're both in middle school. I was almost tempted to shout 'and then they kissed!' just to break the tension."

He let out a laugh at her off-color joke, it was always nice to see her when she decided to finally let her hair down. "I'm sorry, let's just try to enjoy some time off. It isn't often that I get to talk with my daughter alone."

"- and then they expect me to go to a meeting every other day over some other guys problems, like I'm gonna fix it." The man had been complaining about anything that crossed his mind while they walked. So far, he had complained about smoking laws, the price of nice clothes, the food he got at work, his work, his coworkers, meetings, and the weather which was odd considering the ships didn't really have weather. No matter how many subjects he covered he always had a few more ready to mention before he could break his verbal onslaught.

"I could see why that would get tiring." She had been using the same four or five responses each time he finished a story, trying to tune-out as much of it as possible, instead focusing on her next location of footing. This forest was immense, you couldn't see very far in any direction due to the thickness of the tree cover and the fauna, while she was sure it would be great to an expert, was constantly making attempts to trip her. The only comment her 'friend' had made that wasn't a complaint came when they came upon a cluster of bright blue flowers.

"Don't touch those." He broke out of his story just long enough to express his warning.

"Why, are they poisonous?" She asked as she stared at the shining petals.

"Hallucinogenic." He elaborated before going into another story she didn't care about and which she thought he didn't care about either.

"I can hear them. They're about two-hundred more yards, dead ahead."

"Good hearing." He stated as he lit what must have been his fifteenth 'cigarette'. He now smelled like what she imagined breaking all the bottles in a pharmacist's back room would smell like.

"There's a good chance they'll smell you smoking." She mostly included the word 'chance' to be polite.

"Let 'em know. We aren't scouting, we're interacting."

She pulled him aside before he could continue walking. "What is wrong with you? It's not like the first ones we see are going to welcome us with open arms, the first ones that find us will probably be guards."

"That's why you're here, you get to act as a deterrent. Thank you, by the way."

"That is a stupid plan, what if they decide to rush you? Or throw a weapon at you? I don't think we've made suspenders that can stop spears."

He chuckled a little, causing his lit stick to fall out of his mouth. "You're funny." He shook out of her grip and continued forward, stopping to stamp-out his light. "Now let's go, better to get this over with."

Before they continued, Sylvia couldn't help looking back at the flowers once-more. They were a vibrant blue which evenly spread across the healthy petals, despite the oppressive darkness of the tree canopy.

Weening had started, that meant a new room. It was almost exactly like the old one but with the inclusion of a panic button and a thicker set of doors and windows. Everything came with pain: moving, blinking, thinking, shots of pain across the body. Despite the term 'weening', she was still on a low drip of painkillers, just a much more temperate kind than the last, she was pretty sure she had heard they used it for gunshot victims, whatever it was it was complete crap. She had regained speech, although it was still uncomfortable, and was generally lucid enough to understand what the doctors wanted from her.

She hadn't received any visitors during her stay, not that she was expecting much from any crew mates. It was later in the day, the dusk lights had already been switched on outside her room, and the hospital was relatively quiet, the exception being several others on the weening stage who hadn't been able to shut up and move at the same time yet. Despite the time, her door opened and in stepped a quite androgynous-looking woman in a military uniform. She wore a black uniform with a deep blue sash over her shoulder. Sylvia noticed that the woman had a scabbard on her hip, a part of the uniform due to the modern uselessness of the object, and she was carrying what appeared to be a large cloth of red in her hand.

She looked over Sylvia, stopping briefly on her face and again on her hands sitting still on the bed sheets. She developed a rather unpleasant look, one that wasn't friendly but not aggressive either, more challenging. "Sylvia Dezamm?" She asked.

"Yes?" She replied slightly hoarsely.

"My name is Eliza Luckenbach, I'm here to ask you a few questions." She had a slightly malicious glint in her eye as she said it. Her demeanor was fierce, it made Sylvia feel like a shy little girl despite that being quite the opposite.

Sylvia just nodded.

"How long have you been in the military prior to your hospitalization?"

"Three-and-a-half years."

"How have you dealt with the procedure?"

"Quieter than most I think but they keep us behind these doors to block sound so I only know when the doctors come."

"Indeed." She responded curtly. "During your stay, how many times have you pressed the assistance button?"

"Once when an intern forgot to deliver my meal."

While it wasn't an overly pleased look, Eliza did produce at least a small grin noticeable enough to tell her her answer was more than acceptable. It made her happy, although she had no idea why, to be considered commendable by a woman with an air of ridiculously high standards. "How did you feel for the first few months after the procedure?" She asked this question in a more leading manner, telling Sylvia it was alright to use a longer response.

"I felt trapped, like my room was drowning me. Everything looked foreign and I couldn't understand what was happening around me. The doctors seemed distant, unconnected to my actual well-being. I honestly thought more of my IV than them while I was in there. I realize that they are clearly skilled to do a procedure like mine but it seemed they completely severed ties after they were done."

After a few moments of silent contemplation Eliza laid the red cloth on the bed sheet. "You will wear this at all times when on duty and at all times when wearing your armor. Should you lose this cloth you will not receive another. You may use the material for whatever you see fit so long as it can be shown on short notice." She turned the cloth, revealing a small line of squares. The squares were numbered 7, 4, 7, 3, 2, and a blank space at the end. "You will write a one in the last box before wearing it, the rest of the numbers are random code assigned to your name."

"Understood."

"Until next time." Eliza gave a salute. Instead of breaking the salute, she continued, the glint once-more in her eyes, an additional test and, in Sylvia's mind, an important one if she wanted to be distinguishable from the whiners down the hall.

Struggling, Sylvia stretched her arm upward. It felt like her muscles were going to snap like wire at any second but she continued to raise her hand as it slowly creeped toward her forehead. By the time it was to her nose, droplets of sweat were already on her face. Finally, her hand rested against her head, forming a salute.

Eliza broke her salute and turned to the door, stopping at the doorway before exiting. "You will change the one to a zero." And with that, she exited, closing the door behind her.