0004: NEW ARRIVAL BRIEFING

[crux_npcs]

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.]

Comments

Leonard McCoy » star trek aos

[sickbays]

McCoy was certainly in a right mood once the briefing concluded. He avoided speaking to anyone afterward and made a beeline to go collect his belongings. Granted, there wasn't much for him to collect, just his Starfleet uniform and a small silver ring, but those things were important to him. Well, the ring more so than the uniform. He didn't really need his Science Blues anymore now that he's been taken in by this Confederacy. But he did need something to change into that wasn't hospital-issue clothing, so he promptly did just that.

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.

[driftlock]

Approachable? Since when did Deadlock give a frag about if someone looks approachable?

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?"

[sickbays]

McCoy stops in his tracks and shoots a glare in Deadlock's direction. He falters for a moment, his scowl slipping from his lips when his gaze lands on the other, when he realizes exactly who is talking to him. A robot of some sort? Not like it mattered, honestly. McCoy's used to talking to a robot, if you want to lump Spock into that category. McCoy does, and for good reason.

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.

[driftlock]

Listen, squishy, if Deadlock could think of a reason not to be frowny, he'd probably not be frowny himself.

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.

[sickbays]

"Believe me, pal, I may be a new arrival but I'm not stranger to the grievances of space travel."

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.

[driftlock]

"Maybe you find war a bit more of a 'grievance'." Because fraggit, you will be impressed by large angry space robot, you. He's starting to worry that he's losing his touch.

Fraggin' Autobots.

[sickbays]

He sighs with forced acquiescence, "Generally, yes."

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.

[driftlock]

Ha, victory for Deadlock. Well, point, at least.

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.

[sickbays]

"Just curious," he remarks plainly. Just be thankful McCoy's attempting to make to carry out a conversation here.

"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.

[driftlock]

D-don't expect Deadlock to actually be thankful. That would break his entire brain module in half.

"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.

[totallytrustworthy]

And in his milling about he crosses the smooth metallic threshold Chloe Frazer's trying to get through for the sake of returning to the same medical ward they'd all recently vacated. Hand at her neck, dark hair over that, it's almost easy enough to ignore the ruddy crimson stain marring the underside of her jaw. Seeping down into the fabric of her shirt.

Whatever, not as if nicks and scrapes are a foreign affair in space.

"Just behind you, coming through."

[sickbays]

McCoy throws a glance her way as she tries to pass by. Normally, he would have simply stepped aside and minded his own business, but after seeing the blood drip down from her shirt, that is no longer an option. Because like it or not, injured people are his business. He's a doctor, after all, even if he doesn't hold an official position within the medical facilities here yet.

"You getting that wound looked at?" He's also kind of nosy, too.

[totallytrustworthy]

"Well it beats putting a bandaid on it." The smile aches despite the pressure she's got clamped down over her throat. Not too much of a problem, but her palm's definitely damp again for it when she slows enough to indulge his curiosity. "Figured they could toss out a few spare supplies or-- whatever it is they have for first aid kits out here."

[sickbays]

"Medical facilities like this should have some sort of autosuture or dermal regenerators that'll fix it right up."

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.

[totallytrustworthy]

"Oh sure. Who doesn't have those nowadays." There's no complaint when he moves to follow, though the line of her shoulders goes sharper by degrees. Hardly noticeable to the unobservant or willfully ignorant. "--Whatever they are."

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.

[sickbays]

"They regenerate and repair damaged skin tissue, make it so that cut never even happened." He offers the explanation easily. He'll come to realize soon enough not everyone here's as comfortable with the technology as he is. Well, maybe comfortable isn't the right word. Tolerable is probably a better choice.

"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.

[totallytrustworthy]

"What, no scars? Christ. Well that's handy." The farther in they go, the more hustling staff they pass. It's a sure sign they're getting closer to their end goal, even if-- she suspects-- neither of them have yet forgotten how to backpedal their way to the beginning of this mess.

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?"

[sickbays]

The hustle and bustle of the medical ward, the sterile smell, the hum of the machines, it all puts McCoy at ease. He's in his element now, in a hospital facility, even if it's not exactly like what he's used to back with Starfleet.

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."

[totallytrustworthy]

"Ah." Feels a bit like fibbing to a teacher, tossing out a story like that to someone that's likely a touch too sharp for it. That said, Chloe doesn't falter: fixes her attention elsewhere (the shuffling flow of a facility designed to handle emergencies is a lively enough excuse, the stockpiled medical equipment even more so) before she angles a pleasant smile his way, offers up her free hand. "Chloe. Chloe Frazer."

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."

[embellishes]

Hajime's always willing to listen to complaints, though she isn't one to complain herself. In fact, she's more of the type to respond to complaints by urging someone to look at things in a more positive light. It's only natural, then, that she drifts to the most sour looking guy she can find.

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.

[sickbays]

McCoy begins with an audible sigh, indicating that he heard what she asked but isn't prepared to answer just yet. Once they are further away from the crowd, however, he finally stops to face the young woman directly.

"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.

[embellishes]

Why? It's an easy enough question. For a moment, she looks surprised -- she blinks, owlishly, before tilting her head to the side. Why? Isn't that obvious? If someone asks you a question like that, well, don't you look like you're looking for something? Aren't two pairs of eyes better than one? Well, maybe that's difficult to gleam from one sentence. Truthfully, it was hard to understand most of what Hajime was trying to communicate, the vast majority of the time.

"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.

[sickbays]

"I wasn't looking for anything, that's why," he grumbles. If he were actually searching for something, he certainly would look like he was trying for god's sake.

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.

[embellishes]

"Huh? But these are the only clothes I have." There was always the G Suit. Maybe that's why she was given that, and not some clothes.

"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?"

[sickbays]

"Being trapped in an enormous death trap hurtling through space?" He pauses to let out an exasperated sigh. "Unfortunately, yes."

"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.