Blogathon post #40: Shion has a moment
Aug. 1st, 2010 04:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
letterbladeFirst of probably two.
Now, Shion thinks, the problem is finding her way around this maze of a ship. Not the only time she's found herself wishing she had the spare hours to keep up with the developments coming out of Vector's fleet design division. But KOS-MOS keeps her filled to the gills with work.
This way? She picks her way around a line of cargo crates, says a friendly hello to the polite combat Realian who's been drafted into shifting them about, heads down a likely-looking hallway. But there's no sign of the elevator to the bridge, just a big echoing cargo hangar. She's on an upper level, a broad balcony overlooking the lower levels where the freight loaders work. She trails fingertips along the railing at the edge and contemplates giving in and pulling up a map on her connection gear. But that wouldn't be nearly as fun...
"You're all a bunch of slackers!" The angry bellow, echoing through the big hollow space, grabs her attention. She peers over the railing. "You're slacking off! And you, and you!" There's a big, burly man, shaved bald, in a Federation military uniform, dragging some unfortunate workers out for some dressing-down. They're maintenance men in orange coveralls and hats, young and anonymous. "Listen up!" the man roars. "You lazy bums are the cause of that accident! You're not getting any time to confess your sins, though! Why not? 'Cause I'm not giving it to you!" Confess their sins? Shion wonders. Sounded like some of the religious crackpots down the street from where she grew up. "If you got time to be sorry," the man rants on, growling and posing dramatically, "you got time to get your ass in gear! If you got time to think, you got time to get your fingers moving!" He's got a vivid purple X painted across his face, Shion realizes, and shakes her head in bewilderment. "Don't even start thinkin' you got a brain to think with! You're gonna become machines, and work like 'em, day and night! Now get going, you maggots!" With that, he lands a hearty punch on one man's jaw, sending him reeling into line. Shion flinches in sympathy.
"Boy, guess not every department's run like ours," she murmurs.
That was Kevin's doing. The whole project was Kevin's doing. She thinks of the night before the first activation of the original build of KOS-MOS, more than two years ago. The lab was planetside then; night rain pattered on the windows, soft and relaxing. She was up late, past midnight, plugging away on a report, all alone in the lab with the lights out. It was peaceful, she'd always thought. No light but her console, like she was some quiet ghost...and then Kevin had come in. Her supervisor. Couldn't be more different from Mr. Purple X-Face if he was genetically engineered to be.
He brought her coffee, steam drifting off the mug, just how she liked it. He worried about her being up too late. Confessed that he was having trouble sleeping himself. She's finally going to wake up tomorrow. But I keep thinking...what do I say to her? Spread his arms, sheepish. Sounds weird, I know, but I can't stop thinking about it. She doesn't even know us, but...
Why don't you just say 'good morning, KOS-MOS?'
He blinked at her. Good morning?
Well, that's what you say to someone when they wake up, right?
He looked at her like she was made of inspiration, those little brilliant solutions that sneak up on you, magic. Yeah. That sounds good.
Glad to help, sir. She'd laughed, mischievous. Gone up on her toes to kiss him. Warm handsome Kevin, with his deep blue eyes and soulful looks...
Gone.
She shakes her head vigorously and keeps walking, doing her best to tune out the shouting.
"Yeah," she murmurs. "Everybody wants to see her..."
This post is part of Letterblade's Blogathon 2010 madness, to raise money for Heifer Project International. Please go here to pledge your support.
Now, Shion thinks, the problem is finding her way around this maze of a ship. Not the only time she's found herself wishing she had the spare hours to keep up with the developments coming out of Vector's fleet design division. But KOS-MOS keeps her filled to the gills with work.
This way? She picks her way around a line of cargo crates, says a friendly hello to the polite combat Realian who's been drafted into shifting them about, heads down a likely-looking hallway. But there's no sign of the elevator to the bridge, just a big echoing cargo hangar. She's on an upper level, a broad balcony overlooking the lower levels where the freight loaders work. She trails fingertips along the railing at the edge and contemplates giving in and pulling up a map on her connection gear. But that wouldn't be nearly as fun...
"You're all a bunch of slackers!" The angry bellow, echoing through the big hollow space, grabs her attention. She peers over the railing. "You're slacking off! And you, and you!" There's a big, burly man, shaved bald, in a Federation military uniform, dragging some unfortunate workers out for some dressing-down. They're maintenance men in orange coveralls and hats, young and anonymous. "Listen up!" the man roars. "You lazy bums are the cause of that accident! You're not getting any time to confess your sins, though! Why not? 'Cause I'm not giving it to you!" Confess their sins? Shion wonders. Sounded like some of the religious crackpots down the street from where she grew up. "If you got time to be sorry," the man rants on, growling and posing dramatically, "you got time to get your ass in gear! If you got time to think, you got time to get your fingers moving!" He's got a vivid purple X painted across his face, Shion realizes, and shakes her head in bewilderment. "Don't even start thinkin' you got a brain to think with! You're gonna become machines, and work like 'em, day and night! Now get going, you maggots!" With that, he lands a hearty punch on one man's jaw, sending him reeling into line. Shion flinches in sympathy.
"Boy, guess not every department's run like ours," she murmurs.
That was Kevin's doing. The whole project was Kevin's doing. She thinks of the night before the first activation of the original build of KOS-MOS, more than two years ago. The lab was planetside then; night rain pattered on the windows, soft and relaxing. She was up late, past midnight, plugging away on a report, all alone in the lab with the lights out. It was peaceful, she'd always thought. No light but her console, like she was some quiet ghost...and then Kevin had come in. Her supervisor. Couldn't be more different from Mr. Purple X-Face if he was genetically engineered to be.
He brought her coffee, steam drifting off the mug, just how she liked it. He worried about her being up too late. Confessed that he was having trouble sleeping himself. She's finally going to wake up tomorrow. But I keep thinking...what do I say to her? Spread his arms, sheepish. Sounds weird, I know, but I can't stop thinking about it. She doesn't even know us, but...
Why don't you just say 'good morning, KOS-MOS?'
He blinked at her. Good morning?
Well, that's what you say to someone when they wake up, right?
He looked at her like she was made of inspiration, those little brilliant solutions that sneak up on you, magic. Yeah. That sounds good.
Glad to help, sir. She'd laughed, mischievous. Gone up on her toes to kiss him. Warm handsome Kevin, with his deep blue eyes and soulful looks...
Gone.
She shakes her head vigorously and keeps walking, doing her best to tune out the shouting.
"Yeah," she murmurs. "Everybody wants to see her..."
This post is part of Letterblade's Blogathon 2010 madness, to raise money for Heifer Project International. Please go here to pledge your support.