Crux Fleet NPCs (
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crux_fleet2014-03-01 03:32 pm
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0004: NEW ARRIVAL BRIEFING
Who: New Arrivals, Graham Baker
Where: Briefing Room
When: Late afternoon, Februaro 30th
Warnings: None
When awakening, you'll find the area you're in to be very busy. The people in the medical ward are polite and understanding, but firmly refuse to answer questions until the briefing. The same goes for the robots in the hangars. Either given hospital outfits resembling very comfortable pajamas, drone bodies, or their own bodies, they are escorted by polite, unyielding people in red and black uniforms to the briefing room.
The Briefing room is large. Not enough to accommodate a Cybertronian, but spacious enough for several dozen people. The chairs are high-backed and well-cushioned, more like comforting eggs floating a foot or so off the ground than anything else. A half completed, but still functional, holographic display is settled into the floor, showing a slowly rotating pyramid.
A few Security personnel, dressed in their red and black uniforms, stand at ease in the rooms in strategic areas. They seem fairly relaxed. One man stands at the head. Graham Baker, a middle-aged man, showing the first signs of balding and wearing a rumpled business suit perhaps a size too large, nervously clasps his hands together and smiles.
[Questions to the NPCs will go in the briefing thread. The rest of the post is there for people to mill about and do whatever with. The mods will not be doing hangar/medical awakenings unless it's specifically asked for.]
Where: Briefing Room
When: Late afternoon, Februaro 30th
Warnings: None
When awakening, you'll find the area you're in to be very busy. The people in the medical ward are polite and understanding, but firmly refuse to answer questions until the briefing. The same goes for the robots in the hangars. Either given hospital outfits resembling very comfortable pajamas, drone bodies, or their own bodies, they are escorted by polite, unyielding people in red and black uniforms to the briefing room.
The Briefing room is large. Not enough to accommodate a Cybertronian, but spacious enough for several dozen people. The chairs are high-backed and well-cushioned, more like comforting eggs floating a foot or so off the ground than anything else. A half completed, but still functional, holographic display is settled into the floor, showing a slowly rotating pyramid.
A few Security personnel, dressed in their red and black uniforms, stand at ease in the rooms in strategic areas. They seem fairly relaxed. One man stands at the head. Graham Baker, a middle-aged man, showing the first signs of balding and wearing a rumpled business suit perhaps a size too large, nervously clasps his hands together and smiles.
[Questions to the NPCs will go in the briefing thread. The rest of the post is there for people to mill about and do whatever with. The mods will not be doing hangar/medical awakenings unless it's specifically asked for.]
Leonard McCoy » star trek aos
Once everything was in order, he then went to the next area to receive his comm device. First thing he did was search through the commlinks for any of his shipmates names. No such luck, however. Damn, that figures. He frowned deeply at the device, scrolling through the list of names once more before storing it away in the pocket of his slacks.
He may not look like the most approachable guy right now, not with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his lips, but he mills around the area regardless. Maybe he'll find some poor soul who's just as annoyed with the situation as he is. McCoy can never keep his complaints to himself, after all. There's no satisfaction in that.
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Since never, that's when.
Besides, this guy was stealing his surly schtick. Get your own. Or let Deadlock show you how it's done, leaning against a bulkhead, arms crossed as the little squishy walked by.
"What are you looking so fraggin' frowny about?"
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But at least this guy has more going for him in the personality department. That's a point in his favor, for now.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't be," he grumbles back.
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Right. He'll try, because that's just how much craft Deadlock puts into his jerkitude. "You just got here. You still don't know how fragged up this place is." There. SUCCESS.
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That's mostly why he's so pissed off. He gets pulled from one world to another and nothings changed. He's still confined to a glorified tin can out in the far reaches of space.
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Fraggin' Autobots.
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War is uncharted territory for McCoy. It's been several decades since the last interplanetary war, and even longer since the conclusion of Earth's third and final world war. It's a chapter in the history books and nothing more.
How he wishes it could have stayed that way.
"Say, are you with the military, perchance?" Because sending robots out into the fray seems like a sensible course of action.
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His kind's been at war for a few million years. It's just about all he can remember.
"Hnf. You mean with these people?" He shrugs. "Thinking about it. At least it'd be something to fraggin' do. Why? What about you?"
Because why are you asking? He is suspicious.
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"We have a similar organization back where I came from. I was a medical officer, still am I guess, and I'm a doctor. I'm sure they could use an extra hand around medical bay."
Like McCoy could ever imagine doing anything else.
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"Medic, huh?" That gets a whole new round of optics. "Do any work on robots?" Not that he's asking. He's just, you know...asking. Shut up. It's an important distinction.
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Whatever, not as if nicks and scrapes are a foreign affair in space.
"Just behind you, coming through."
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"You getting that wound looked at?" He's also kind of nosy, too.
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Not like McCoy knows for sure, he didn't get much of a chance to poke around the hospital ward before being whisked away for that damn briefing.
"Here, I'll come with you." It's a fitting excuse to drop by the medical bay, while also doing his good deed for the day.
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After all, futuristic nonsense sits fine with her so long as it gets the job done. Better if it comes in the do-it-yourself brand.
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"When the hell did you get that?" He seems to finally recognize her from the briefing. A new arrival, just like him. However, he doesn't seem to recall a cut to her neck. He certainly would have remembered that.
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The lie, though, that comes easy. Tends to for anyone in her line of work.
"Stupid mistake. Too focused on taking in the sights, tripped and split my bloody chin open. No cure for carelessness, yeah?"
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His fascination with the facility will have to wait, however. This woman needs to get herself checked in with either a doctor or a nurse, and McCoy is going to stick with her until she does.
The explanation that she offers him causes him to look back at her with a raised brow.
"Took a real nasty fall, if it's bleeding that bad." Oh, he's skeptical alright, but it's probably not his place to push. He doesn't even know the woman's name, first of all, so who is he to go asking for information he has no right to know about.
If he were her doctor, however, then that'd be a different story.
"My name's Leonard McCoy, by the way. Dr. McCoy."
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It stays there as she waits for some sort of reciprocation. Over the curve of his shoulder there's a clearly labeled storage room meant for immediate cases; something of a beacon for someone fond of managing their own disasters.
"No fancy titles included."
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Truthfully, she recognizes him from the briefing, but he's dressed in different clothing, where as Hajime is still stuck in her hospital jammies. They're comfortable, but seeing the man in something more civilian looking makes her want to ask.
But seeing the look on his face, she finds something more pressing. Matching his strides step for step, she places herself by his side (not an easy feat in crowded places, admittedly) and smiles up at him. He is taller than her, which she isn't used to. The set expression almost reminds her of someone, but she gets the feeling he's more of a straight arrow than a stagnant bird.
"Excuse me! Did you lose something?"
She's already come up with millions of reasons he could be upset, but considering they're all missing something, she figures that would be the most relatable right now.
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"My patience, mostly," he remarks sarcastically before folding his arms across his chest once again.
"Why does it matter to you?" He's nothing but blunt. Because there's nothing he hates more than small talk or wasting time, which is essentially the same thing in McCoy's book.
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"Hmm, well," she began, raising her hands and looking away. "It looked like you didn't want to be bothered, and I wondered why that was." Her hands stood stiff and framed her face. "Then I thought, maybe he's missing something. We're all missing things, after all. Hm, like for me, I've lost my clothes! Ah! Although, I still have this thing." She seemed to pluck her NOTE, a simple, white, compact notebook from nowhere. "You were looking straight ahead, so I thought you wouldn't find it on your own! Looking forward like, it's like this isn't it?"
Again, she looked away and framed her line of vision. If you looked forward like that, and only like this, you'd miss a lot of things. It seemed a shame for someone who looked so bothered to miss their things so easily.
Her attention back on him, she smiled, "Right?"
Although, she wasn't sure what 'Patience' was. It could always be the name of something else, but with that attitude, she supposed he meant it literally. Nothing said she couldn't still try to help him find his patience, though. Looking at things from a different perspective might have helped the man, just like it helped Hajime.
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This girl's eagerness to help out reminded him of the over-enthusiastic Ensigns he's burdened with back on the Enterprise. McCoy usually has plenty for them to do around med bay, but if he didn't he'd just bark at them, tell them to take their energy elsewhere, preferably with Scotty down in Engineering. He's always got something to do. And if the man's got time to be teaching Ensign Chekov how to repair the warp core, he might as well teach a seminar to the rest of them. He's certainly got the better temper for it, in comparison to the CMO.
Long story short, overeager people are one of the many banes of McCoy's existence. So he'd just as well let the young lady know about that now before she could get any bright ideas about helping him find something he hasn't lost. (He's been searching for his patience for a long time, you might as well chalk that up as a lost cause.)
"Look, I appreciate the help." He always hates forcing politeness, but sometimes he has no choice. "But maybe you should see to finding yourself some decent clothes before trying to do anything else. You don't want to go wandering around the city dressed like that, do ya?"
Because hospital-issue pajamas are not proper public attire as far as McCoy is concerned, especially not for young ladies like her.
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"Ah! But maybe you know where I can get some. Hmm, this is fine, too, though. Maybe I have to pay for them... I can't sell this, after all." The NOTE. Without it, she's at a heavy disadvantage. Disadvantages don't seem like something this guy is familiar with right now, in fact, he seems sure of where he's going and what he's doing. Hajime was merely wandering around, and getting a feel for this, but something about this man held a more definite feeling. It was interesting.
She doesn't pause and quickly rolls into her next question -- it's hard not to be curious. For Hajime, it's second nature to be talkative, though it might not all be decipherable. "Oh, by the way, you're calm about this. I was thinking, hmm, he might be used to this! Are you?"
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"We have something called replicators back in my world. If there are available around here, you might be able to replicate yourself a set of clothes," he remarks casually. Because this place has to have replicators, right? Or something similar. Although the concept of having to pay for things is entirely new to him, so he furrows his brow at her.
"Dear god, I hope they don't expect us to be paying in currency." This place is far too advanced to have to worry about exchanging goods for money, or at least, he hopes so.