The Interim Crew
A happy little chime spread across the speaker system on the Aga Jain.
It made Shalema want to puke.
TRAVIS: "Attention crew, wards, prisoners, and stowaways -- please gather at the command deck at your earliest convenience."
Shalema growled, taking her feet off of the little dining table in the middle of the kitchens, and sprung up and into the hall. She'd been on this starship for two weeks, trapped as it fluttered about in the Drift, refusing to take any orders without its precious "Captain". There'd been some mutterings about officers, but Nikkost and Ricardo lacked that qualification, Wonton could barely recite the alphabet, and Gregar was... Well.
His condition wasn't convenient, but she had to admire good work when she saw it.
She took her time getting to the command deck, feeling the eyes of the Aga Jain on her back, clearly vexed by her lack of speed. Ololot would have scolded her, but he'd been asleep ever since the Skip... He knew how, but it took a lot out of him. They only used it when absolutely necessary.
Shalema: "Protect offspring..."
When she arrived, she was surprised to see Gregar among them, nursing a set of nanite limbs. They looked odd on his body, as TRAVIS had never seen the originals, and were starkly silver against the Vesk's green-and-blue skin. Shalema tensed, but then Ricardo shook his head, and pointed up.
Ricardo: "We already did all that. Big guy controls the limbs. He isn't going anywhere."
Gregar growled -- a low rumble emanating from the center of his chest -- but Shalema could tell it was half-hearted. Gregar's imprisonment in Night had broken him, that was plain to see. Not that Shalema cared. The universe rarely gave monsters a taste of their own medicine.
Shalema: "What's this about, TRAVIS?"
TRAVIS: "Thank you all for coming. It has been exactly two weeks since the Captain has gone missing, with no officers to replace him." Shalema perked up. A protocol... Something programmed into TRAVIS' base code, which he couldn't defy. Shalema: "Meaning?"
TRAVIS: "It is... It is time for the crew to select a new-- No." There was a shiver throughout the ship. Even Gregar's limbs leapt about, sculpted muscles firing on all cylinders. The crew tensed, waiting for TRAVIS to calm. Shalema didn't like the AI... It was unstable, especially lately. TRAVIS: "The crew is to select an interim Captain, until Captain Mist returns." Ricardo looked over Shalema's shoulder, where Nikkost was perched against a wall. He always liked to keep his back to a corner, that one. Wonton was sitting in his hands, eating a strawberry. Shalema once again reminded herself that Wonton was the spirit of a butcher knife. Gregar: "By this protocol... Who is eligible?"
Ricardo: "Not you, bitch! You're still grounded."
TRAVIS: "Correction, Gunner Ricardo. All onboard this vessel are eligible. And all onboard have been granted a vote. In the event of a tie, it will be broken by me, using a random number generator." Shalema thought the AI was a little too cheery about that last part. Gregar growled at the prospect, but nodded. To a Vesk, fate was just as powerful as a battle to the death. Nikkost: "I- I- I vote for Ricardo!" TRAVIS acknowledged the vote with a little ping. Everyone turned to look at him, and the Shirren nearly dropped Wonton in his fear. What a coward... Shalema pointedly ignored the blueberry rolling across the command deck, and Wonton's little sigh. Gregar: "I vote for myself."
Shalema: "I do the same."
Ricardo: "Me three, mother fuckers." Wonton was halfway through a grape before he realized that everyone was staring at him. He hadn't been listening, and was suddenly on the spot. Wonton: "Um... What?"
Nikkost: "Who do you want to be Captain, Wonton? Ricardo would be nice, right? We know him..."
Gregar: "Don't lead the boy, bug. Let him make his own decisions." Shalema resisted the urge to pull a gun, and shoot Gregar in the side of the head. Wonton: "I like Ricardo--" Ricardo clapped his heads, and looked to the speaker system. But TRAVIS didn't comment. The tension in the room doubled. Wonton: "--but mommy says no bad words. And Ricardo says a lot of bad words."
Ricardo: "What? No! I'm an adult!" Wonton shrugged, finishing his grape. Gregar chuckled -- it sounded like a cheese grater on stone. Wonton: "I pick Shalema. She's a mommy. Mommy's are cool." Everyone else gasped. Shalema felt like someone had punched her in the gut. With brass knuckles on. Mommy. TRAVIS chirped in acknowledgement, and made a little trumpet sound. TRAVIS really liked his sound effects. Shalema didn't know how the crew put up with it. TRAVIS: "I have broken the tie."
Ricardo: "And?"
TRAVIS: "I present to you the new interim crew assignments, until Captain Mist returns." A hologram appeared on the command deck, with a list of roles. Shalema grinned. At the very top, it said: Captain Shalema. Ricardo groaned, despite his promotion to Senior Gunner. Nikkost made a worried, trembling sound. Senior Engineer. Wonton had been upgraded to Executive Chef -- a little bit of flair from the AI, Shalema was certain. And then there was the last item on the list... Gregar growled, quite audibly this time, and Ricardo laughed. Private Gregar Taxus. Shalema: "TRAVIS. Plot a course for the Diaspora. I know just where to go."
TRAVIS: "Thank you all for coming. It has been exactly two weeks since the Captain has gone missing, with no officers to replace him." Shalema perked up. A protocol... Something programmed into TRAVIS' base code, which he couldn't defy. Shalema: "Meaning?"
TRAVIS: "It is... It is time for the crew to select a new-- No." There was a shiver throughout the ship. Even Gregar's limbs leapt about, sculpted muscles firing on all cylinders. The crew tensed, waiting for TRAVIS to calm. Shalema didn't like the AI... It was unstable, especially lately. TRAVIS: "The crew is to select an interim Captain, until Captain Mist returns." Ricardo looked over Shalema's shoulder, where Nikkost was perched against a wall. He always liked to keep his back to a corner, that one. Wonton was sitting in his hands, eating a strawberry. Shalema once again reminded herself that Wonton was the spirit of a butcher knife. Gregar: "By this protocol... Who is eligible?"
Ricardo: "Not you, bitch! You're still grounded."
TRAVIS: "Correction, Gunner Ricardo. All onboard this vessel are eligible. And all onboard have been granted a vote. In the event of a tie, it will be broken by me, using a random number generator." Shalema thought the AI was a little too cheery about that last part. Gregar growled at the prospect, but nodded. To a Vesk, fate was just as powerful as a battle to the death. Nikkost: "I- I- I vote for Ricardo!" TRAVIS acknowledged the vote with a little ping. Everyone turned to look at him, and the Shirren nearly dropped Wonton in his fear. What a coward... Shalema pointedly ignored the blueberry rolling across the command deck, and Wonton's little sigh. Gregar: "I vote for myself."
Shalema: "I do the same."
Ricardo: "Me three, mother fuckers." Wonton was halfway through a grape before he realized that everyone was staring at him. He hadn't been listening, and was suddenly on the spot. Wonton: "Um... What?"
Nikkost: "Who do you want to be Captain, Wonton? Ricardo would be nice, right? We know him..."
Gregar: "Don't lead the boy, bug. Let him make his own decisions." Shalema resisted the urge to pull a gun, and shoot Gregar in the side of the head. Wonton: "I like Ricardo--" Ricardo clapped his heads, and looked to the speaker system. But TRAVIS didn't comment. The tension in the room doubled. Wonton: "--but mommy says no bad words. And Ricardo says a lot of bad words."
Ricardo: "What? No! I'm an adult!" Wonton shrugged, finishing his grape. Gregar chuckled -- it sounded like a cheese grater on stone. Wonton: "I pick Shalema. She's a mommy. Mommy's are cool." Everyone else gasped. Shalema felt like someone had punched her in the gut. With brass knuckles on. Mommy. TRAVIS chirped in acknowledgement, and made a little trumpet sound. TRAVIS really liked his sound effects. Shalema didn't know how the crew put up with it. TRAVIS: "I have broken the tie."
Ricardo: "And?"
TRAVIS: "I present to you the new interim crew assignments, until Captain Mist returns." A hologram appeared on the command deck, with a list of roles. Shalema grinned. At the very top, it said: Captain Shalema. Ricardo groaned, despite his promotion to Senior Gunner. Nikkost made a worried, trembling sound. Senior Engineer. Wonton had been upgraded to Executive Chef -- a little bit of flair from the AI, Shalema was certain. And then there was the last item on the list... Gregar growled, quite audibly this time, and Ricardo laughed. Private Gregar Taxus. Shalema: "TRAVIS. Plot a course for the Diaspora. I know just where to go."
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