3919/What Do You Do With A Cyborg Sailor

What Do You Do With A Cyborg Sailor
Date of Scene:	16 March 2016
Location:	The Oceanic Ruins
Synopsis:	Chief invites Mel over for a talk. Will comes along. ANOTHER NEW FRIEND IS ACQUIRED.
Cast of Characters:	William Pauwel, 941

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William Pauwel has posed:
    A few weeks have gone by since the sea revealed itself to be a wretched hive overflowing with monsters from the darkest, fathomless depths of the world. In all honesty, that sort of thing should really expected from the ocean, but so few really realize just how bizarre the sea can be. The island has been relatively quiet since then though, which is probably good news.

Or it means that there was something even worse lurking deeper in the ruin.

Either or!

    Whatever the case may be, though, a beacon has finally gone up. It seems that the lone(?) denizen of the island has finally made a decision on what to do with himself. Whatever that decision might be, it seems he's elected to wait until he can deliver it in person.

But this means something even more important.

    If all the TERRIBLE CORAL BEASTS really have been cleared out, it means that whatever loot might still be lying about within the ruin is up for grabs! And so, despite having just recently broken everything in his body twice over, William Pauwel has somehow managed to make his way back to the island. After everything that's happened to him this week, Will is really, really in need of a pick-me-up and a payday. Ideally, simultaneously.

He's probably had some help, though. No way a ship could make it this far this fast.

Mel Brock (941) has posed:
    Well, Will didn't get to see most of the trip out last time. So this time? He gets a ride in the flying police space-car.

    Properly known as the Firestarter-C, but informally referred to by Mel as the Firechaser or usually just the Chaser, the vessel is sleek and red, with two bucket front seats and a bench back seat. It is a bit bulkier than a proper car, but not by too much, and the ride is smooth and swift. And since it's fully environmentally-sealed, comfortable too.

    In theory it should be much easier to get to the island now, what with the EM fog theoretically being gone and all, so unless there is some issue in that department, the psychic will set it down on the shore not far from where they made landfall the first time, and step out with a lazy, smooth movement.

William Pauwel has posed:
    There's no small amount of irony about a Chaser riding around inside a Chaser. Despite Will's injuries, the young explorer seems energetic. He winces and limps whenever he moves, but his face is thoroughly plastered to the magnificent flying machine's windows, monitors and electronics. He's found his own in-flight entertainment, it seems.

    When Mel approaches the island, she can confirm that the strange electronic haze covering it has, indeed, faded away. There's nothing but flat, peaceful ocean below. The sunlight glitters like gold and priceless jewels over the deep blue of the sea, turning it rich indigo and cyan as they draw closer to the island. It seems there's a large coral reef on one side of the land mass, where the waves are somewhat more turbulent and the currents sweep through.

Those ones are... probably not horrifying, psychovoltaic monsters from beyond the pale of time.

    The island itself, no longer concealed by fog, storm or sea, looks entirely like it could be a tropical paradise. Lush jungle trees cover the entire interior of the island, except for swathes that look as though they've recently been set ablaze. Much of the island is wreathed by soft, white, coral sands, except for a series of cliffs and large rocky formations that surround what appears to be a shipyard. This is the only sign that the island is inhabited; but it is a large one, with what look like jet black platforms rising up out of the sea some distance from shore. The shattered husks of half-sunken, jet-black ships creak and groan against their moorings. There are buildings- mostly ground to ruin now- at the port, though one appears to have been recently flattened, and looks like it would probably make for a good landing zone.

Someone appears to be sitting at the pier. A very large someone, clad entirely in black armor. He glances up as he notices the Firestarter's arrival and raises a hand in greeting.

Mel Brock (941) has posed:
    Well, that's a better landing site anyway; Mel opts for that instead, bringing the Chaser around in a circle of the island before setting down. The armor-clad man is an expected sight, for that matter. She'd have been more worried if he wasn't around to greet the two of them. "Chief," she calls out, lifting one hand to give him a wave of greeting before returning it to her pocket. "Looks like you've been busy on the island since we left. How you holding up?"

William Pauwel has posed:
    Will descends from the Chaser just after Mel. He's pretty enthusiastic to be back, despite what happened to him the last time he was on this particular island. "Dang," Will says, peering at the smoldering ruins around them. "Was it always this bad?"

    "Most of the damage is new," Chief answers with a shrug. "We needed to purge much of the island to ensure the infestation was well and truly exterminated," he explains, gesturing, for instance, towards the burnt-out trees, "It was not easy, but with the Main Computer online again, it was also not unmanageable."

He inclines his head, then, "I think I have reached a decision, about what we'd discussed."

Mel Brock (941) has posed:
    "That's about how I'd have gone about it," Mel admits. "Then agan, I'm... let's say a little well-known for my skill in demolition." In other words, she's a human wrecking ball when she fights. Not necessarily a good thing. "I'm glad to hear it worked, though. Sounds like you found some of your siblings in good condition, then?" She takes a glance out at the shipyard briefly. "And I'm flattered you'd call us out here to tell us." The marshal doesn't prompt him for his answer; she'll let him speak at his leisure.

William Pauwel has posed:
    "Not many," Chief answers after a moment. There's a pang of regret in his voice. "That monster was able to penetrate the stasis chambers. I was forced to terminate..." A pause, he glances away, "Many. Of my security team, there are only three survivors, myself included. Of the research staff... Only one."

"The fleet was mostly salvagable, though," he glances out over the shipyard. "These were the only ones that were tainted beyond recovery."

A moment passes in silence. Chief stares out to sea, then says, "I think that I'll make use of them. Keep watch over these seas."

Mel Brock (941) has posed:
    Mel winces. That's... hard. If she lost most of her PsiMarshal allies, she knows she'd take it rough. Especially if it was effectively while they were sleeping. And she'd been the one who had to end their suffering. "I'm sorry to hear that." Her hands are out of her pockets now, instead folded behind her back in a less casual posture. "I'm glad to hear what you're planning," she finally says after the moment of quiet. "This world... it's a pretty untamed place right now, from what Pauwel here says. Lot of old stuff lying around that isn't very friendly to the people who live out there. They could use someone keeping an eye on 'em, I think." She glances over her shoulder, back at the facility. "That researcher... he know what happened here? On this planet, I mean."

William Pauwel has posed:
    "I've noticed," Chief sighs, his shoulders sagging tiredly. "This world is not how it once was. It has... diminished, in so many ways." Nevermind the degeneration of his home. The seas no longer churn with industry and trade. The skies are no longer filled with travellers. "I was created as a protector, however. And if there is still anything left of the world I remember in this one, then I must continue to do my duty, I think."

He inclines his head, then. "The researcher... They are... complicated," Chief concludes after a moment. "They're inside. I can take you to meet them, if you like. You'll see what I mean once you do. Come, right this way."

Mel Brock (941) has posed:
    Mel smiles, just a little. "Doing your duty as a protector, no matter what. That's something I can get behind." In a way, it's very similar to her. She can't imagine what it must be like to wake up to such a ruined world, but... well, he's dealing with it about the same way she would. Meanwhile, there's something of more immediate importance; not just to her, but to Will besides. "Sure, I'd like that. Think he would too," she adds, with a headtilt towards the chaser. It's worth taking a look, at least, even if it doesn't bring them much information in the end.

William Pauwel has posed:
    Will is not vibrating. That would be terribly uncouth and also would probably hurt like all the dickins in the world. So he just sort of smiles a big, silly smile. "I sure would," he says, nodding his head fervently. The chance to speak to an honest-to-goodness Ancient researcher? Who could turn that sort of thing down!?

    Chief heads back into the monolithic entranceway into the facility proper. It almost looks like he'd need to stoop to make it in, but it seems that whoever built this place had individuals of his stature in mind. He passes through the interior corridors, taking a right instead of a left at the familiar fork in the halls, and comes up to an unassuming door set into the wall. "They're in here," Chief says, tapping a code into a nearby keypad. The door slides away with a hiss.

It's a bedroom. There's a bed, there's a simple dresser, mirror, shower room, a (currently inoperative) computer terminal. In the middle of it all is a table, with a TV dinner laid out, and...

    A young, tennish-years-old, blonde-haired girl in a drab, grey smock. She glances up as the door slides open and cants her head curiously to one side. "Security Chief," she says in a tone that's... A little too mature for her age. "These are the ones you told me about?"

Will's enthusiasm seems to deflate. He shoots Chief an incredulous stare, as if to say 'THIS is your scientist?'

Mel Brock (941) has posed:
    The psychic space sheriff stops when the door opens, going dead still. She looks at the girl. She looks at the room, and then the girl again. She looks at the terminal, and then one last time at the girl.

    And then she gives a mental shrug and accepts it. Yeah, sure. Ten-year-old super scientist. Why shouldn't things get even weirder?

    "That'd be us, probably," Mel replies, taking a step so she's closer to the door. She's not sure how close they'll be allowed to get for conversational purposes. "Mel Brock, STA Marshal and Union Elite. This is William Pauwel. He's from this planet, I'm not."

William Pauwel has posed:
    It turns out that the ancients had bite-sized scientists. The girl pushes herself up from her table and takes a few steps toward the door. Standing up, it's obvious that she's nowhere near as old as most scientists aught to be. Or at least, nowhere near as tall as they should be. "This," Chief says, stepping back from the door somewhat, himself. "Is Professor Alia Estrella. One of our cyberneticists."

    "Chief has informed me that you two were partly responsible for destroying that awful parasite," the girl says with a smile, and drops into a practiced curtsy. "You have my esteemed appreciation. Though I do rather wish you had arrived sooner."

    Will glances from the cyborg, to the girl, to the cyborg again. His expression is... incredulous. "What, so the ancients used kids to do their science?" He shakes his head, "Is that what you meant when you said she was a 'special case?'"

    Chief seems... Mildly uncomfortable. Alia just... pouts? "Excuse you! Just because I'm young does not mean I'm not qualified!" Alia's arms cross impetuously over her chest, "Honestly, I've forgotten more about biotechnology than most have ever learned. Hrmph."

The cyborg just sort of scratches his chin. "Her age," he grunts, "Was not what I was referring to earlier."

Mel Brock (941) has posed:
    "Cybernetics," Mel murmurs, absently reaching up to rub a finger along the device stuck to her jawbone. "I considered getting this thing implanted, but I prefer being able to yank it off in an emergency." And then Will says the thing that makes her inwardly cringe a little. She rests a hand on Will's shoulder, speaking mostly for him. "I'd guess genetic modification or something like that. Or maybe she's just a special case in general. Either way, if he says she's a scientist, and she says she's a scientist, she's a scientist." Her hand goes back in her pocket. "We can't take sole credit for getting rid of the parasite, though. There were several others there."

    She pauses to consider for a moment, looking around the room. Relatively clean, isolated, the girl's probably been in stasis for a good long while... "...you can't leave, can you? Immune system would have trouble with the modern viruses and bacteria, or maybe there's something still out there that would come after you. Biowarfare or nanotech or something." Hey, investigating is what she does.

William Pauwel has posed:
    "The Estrella line was carefully cultivated to ensure intellectual superiority in any field," Alia says with just a hint of haughty pride. But Mel's deduction causes her to falter ever so slightly. The girl on the other side of the door frowns and glances pointedly away.

    "Her phenotype in particular," the cyborg says, a note of wistfulness creeping in, "The Estrella are-- were very specifically designed for intellectual work. But sacrifices needed to be made in other areas to ensure that. They were frequently targeted by engineered viral agents or hunter-seeker units because of their unique genetic modifications."

    "In the old days, there would have been ways to allow her to safely exit this room, but..." His hand moves up toward the doorway, and presses flat against a field of crackling energy. "For now, this is all that we can do. I intend to properly sterilize more of the facility in time, but I only have two more sets of hands available to me."

"It's fine," the girl says, shaking her head. Though she's still looking away. "I can be patient. Once we get my terminal back online, I'll be able to... occupy my time."

Mel Brock (941) has posed:
    The psychic at the door seems to consider this for a moment. "If I could dredge you up an old-fashioned vacuum suit, you'd have a way to move around in emergencies. But that's not a long-term solution. What I /can/ get you is a radio that will let you link up with the multiversal comms net. It doesn't have a whole lot of info on this world, but... well, you can at least use it to contact him?" She jabs her thumb towards Will. He'll know a /little/ about the world, at least. "It'll let you two swap info, at least. And give you a line to the outside multiverse. And once you get your terminal up and running, you should be able to connect to the internet out there, too."

William Pauwel has posed:
    "Wh-" Will blinks. It looks like he wasn't expecting getting saddled with babysitting duty! "Why me specifically--" Alia glances even further away. Will stammers. "I- I mean, I'm just a Chaser with a big gun. I ain't the kind of company she's used to, is all."

    "...I would not object," the girl mutters. "To hearing about the outside world every so often. And if he is so ignorant about his own history, I would not mind... educating him, if the responsibility must fall to me."

    Chief just scratches at his metallic chin. "And it would allow her to call for assistance in case of emergencies. As long as you do not think it would pose a security risk, I have no objections."

Mel Brock (941) has posed:
    "That's exactly why you," Mel replies, her face lighting up with a grin. "Or part of it, anyway. Having someone so different to talk to will do her good. Do YOU some good, too." She has a similar smile for Alia. "That's about what I was thinking, on all counts. It should be fine, security-wise. The spare I've got on hand has pretty solid encryption, and also doesn't carry any factional access codes, so you'll be good for day-to-day stuff and also won't get me in any trouble. Anyone causes a problem, you can call me, or call Pauwel, and then he'll call me, and I'll come out and smack them around some."

William Pauwel has posed:
    "Well, in that case," the Cyborg says, extending a hand to receive the radio transmitter. "I'll take care of the sterilization. We must take the necessary precautions, you know." That is, after all, the entire reason she's behind that forcefield to begin with.

    "I suppose I should thank you again," Alia says from behind her personal bubble. She dips into another, picture-perfect curtsy. "For the entertainment, and for the information. Though..." Her eyes dart sharply towards Will, "I'm not sure I should be thanking you for the company, just yet."

    "Wh- hey!" Will grumbles. "I'm perfectly fine company! Just 'cause you're smarter n' I am doesn't mean I ain't gonna be good talkin' to! You just wait, I'll be the best company you've ever had!"

There's a beat.

    "Oh, wait, but first--" Will looks to Chief and grins, "So when we were here the last time, there was some... Junk I was interested in." Chief glances furtively from Will back towards Mel, "...I wouldn't mind, if you wanted to pick through whatever materials might've been left over."

Mel Brock (941) has posed:
    "It's still in the Chaser," Mel replies to the Chief with an amused shake of the head. "But I don't blame you for that. Even knowing the Chaser's got full enviro-sealing, I'd still recommend it if you hadn't. I'll pass it off to you on the way out." She turns to Alia next, and gives the girl a nod. "Don't mention it. I'm law enforcement. My job to help out." Even if Alia isn't strictly under her jurisdiction. Or even loosely under her jurisdiction. "Don't worry about him. He's green, but he's a good kid."

    Meanwhile, the good kid is asking for loot.

    Mel glances at the Chief, then Will again, then gives the towering cyborg a small shrug. 'If you're okay with it, I'm okay with it.'

William Pauwel has posed:
"My, are you really begging for scraps?" Alia doesn't even bother to stifle a giggle. She just covers her mouth in that oh-so-haughty way that only blonde girls can manage. "Has humanity truly devolved so far? I'll have to work hard to reeducate you, it seems~"

"Shush, you!" Will harrumphs! "I'm a Chaser. If I don't at least try to get a few relics out'a situations like these, I'd never be able to look at myself in the mirror!"

"I see at least humanity's egos haven't changed," Alia smirks, "Though its ambitions seem a bit... smaller these days."

Will starts to sputter, but before he can do something he might regret, Chief takes him by the shoulder and begins walking in another direction. "We can part with a few things, I'm sure," the cyborg says with a sigh. "I was going to have to throw most of it out when we expand the quarantine anyway."