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Insatiable Curiosity (The Reboot)

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    Ah, the wonders of modern medicine. Dr. Arden thought this to himself quite often these days, looking from person to person and seeing just how much their lives might have been changed by cybernetic therapy. Men and women with fingers replaced, easily-created replacements for important organs, or something as small as an ear implant for full hearing. It was all thanks to the medical advancements.

    And yet he felt responsible. He knew there were those who loathed the thought of being “less of a person” back home. He hadn’t been aboard the Insatiable Curiosity for very long, but this felt different to him. More open, more lively, and certainly more friendly.

    It was a bit of a complex, unfortunately. He could see the good in all things now, but his heart couldn’t help but focus on the negative. Am I doing the right thing? Have I made a horrible mistake? What if these people are right? The only thing that ever really got his mind off of it w-

    “Arden! Hey, Fordis! Over this way!”

    The squirrel would blink and snap out of his trance, eyes darting over to the source of that voice, the Walrus from before. He was eating his lunch, looking like he'd expected Arden to arrive. Luke had been a longtime friend, one Arden could use right about now. Shuffling over to the table Luke sat at, the squirrel would exhale heavily and plop down.

    “That bad, Fordis? You can’t have been here all that long, man! What’s got you so down? This place is terrific!” The walrus would offer a friendly smile framed by a bushy moustache, slipping over a bottle of water to the squirrel. “I’ve got plenty of time to talk.”

    Arden nodded his head a bit and took that bottle, taking a swig. “This’s amazing. You remember the place I had back home, right? Leafhollow? I think back on it sometimes, back to when I told everyone I was going to go learn more about cybernetics and the like. I remember the look on so many faces. Light, they were so disgusted with me. Did I do the right thing by leaving, Luke?”

    Luke took his cup and gently placed it on the table, rubbing his left temple with his fingers. “Arden, we’ve been over this…”


      Yanktee hadn't gotten dressed though, or showered. If anything, it looked like he had done good just to get his quarters made halfway presentable for Haheen's arrival. The bison himself, was a mess. His thick, curly mane was mashed down on one side and there was what looked like...

      Was that a fragment of vomit on his chest - right under his chin and just above the 'V" in his robe? Indeed, the room had the stink of vomit in it, though Haheen could see none. There had been some, though. The smell made that pretty clear. It had probably taken the bison the fifteen minutes prior to Haheen's arrival to get it cleaned up.

      Yanktee eyed the canister Haheen brought, dubiously. He lifted his eyes from it, to the rat who held it out to him. He sighed softly, nodded, and took it. He invited Haheen to come in.

      The bison wore a bathrobe, no slippers. His large feet bore two remnants of hooves out front. Behind these though, was a normal enough looking foot - ball of the foot, a surprisingly high arch behind that, and a thick heel. Above the feet, the legs rippled with powerful muscle. Those calves of his looked like slabs of rock. In fact, everything about the bison rippled. Perhaps Haheen had noticed it before, but it might occur to him that this fellow had worn uniforms to help hide how impressive his physique was. The robe, however, hid very little of it. This bison's strength was nothing short of prodigious. Bowling-ball sized biceps, forarms that rippled with astonishing strength. A chest wide enough, that in the circles Haheen probably traveled back home, it could be taken as a sofa!

      If Haheen thought it worthy to check, he would find that Yanktee spent no less than twenty hours a week in the officer's gym facilities, and had even hired a personal trainer. He would find that Yanktee enjoyed the sport of body-building, he working very hard to develop himself up to 'Adonis' standards.

      And to look at him, it was something he was achieving quite spectacularly.

      To sit across from him, now, however, Haheen could only be given to think it was something the bison was compensating for, not something he was attempting to achieve. The way Yanktee looked down. The way he clearly had little faith in himself around his superiors. It was like he was afraid he would get talked down to, like he was an idiot for wanting to build himself up so much. This was a man who had utterly no confidence in himself.

      "I'm sorry, Sir," Yanktee said. "I... I."

      He grimaced and unscrewed the lid from the concoction. He tentatively sniffed at it, then turned it up and drank about half of it down, the ice in the mixture tinkling as the bison lowered what was left of it.

      And then blinked. And down at the concoction.

      And then likely to Haheen's amazement, the bison turned the rest of it up and started downing it. Like he liked it. His throat sure seemed to be pulsing with enough enthusiasm for it!

      As Yanktee did this, and if Haheen hadn't been riveted to it with amazement, he might have gotten a clue as to why Yanktee was the way he was. On the dresser, was a large, framed photograph. It had pictures of what could only be characterized as some very unpleasant people in it.

      The frame itself spoke of stern responsibility. It was far too nice a frame to keep in one's military possessions. It was fine, polished hardwood, its corners gilt in gold, the frame's glass thick and heavy. In the frame was a picture of three people. A tall, stern looking man, and even taller and more stern looking mother, and a brother who looked not only like he was older, but who appeared to hold his mouth in a perpetual sneer.

      The picture shouted 'Losers', 'Trailer-Trash', and 'Underachievers' out to him in volumes. These would be people who would hold Yanktee back, because to let him excel would be to remind them of how inadequate they themselves were. Or find their son realizing that he no longer needed them - that being something they could never ever allow.

      But what had Yanktee achieved, precisely? Well, for one, he had a job on the starship. There were always tens of thousands of hopefuls for jobs on it. Yanktee had landed one for himself. Moreover, he had achieved the rank of Marine Captain while aboard her. No easy feat unto itself. Also, he was trusted and admired by fellow members of his crew. And he had taken up body-building as a hobby, and from the looks of him, was achieving spectacularly with it!

      Finally, Yanktee was speaking again. He looked hangdog, disappointed in himself, and worst of all, like he knew Haheen was disappointed in him.

      "I well, Sir," he said defensively, haltingly looking up at his boss. "You did say to go and get drunk if I wanted." He glanced over at a trash can. From its lip protruded what looked like a sizeable vodka bottle.

      Yanktee slumped even further. "And well, I guess I let it go a little too far."

      Argril looked at the plate with the pizza on it. He looked back up at Daryn, then back down at the pizza again. Then, with his ears perking forward, he took the pizza up by its crust, in his fingers, and stuffed half of it into his mouth all at once, and bit down into it! And barely even gave it three good chews before swallowing it down!

      Well, dogs will be dogs, as it were. You can expect some things, but manners while eating... yeah, probably not a lot to be expected in that department.

      He finished the slice with the next bite, eating it so fast so as to probably not be able to taste it.

      When he had finished the slice, though, Argril got up, and prusuant to Daryn's instructions, neatly deposited the plate in the recycle slot. He then turned back to Daryn, wagging his tail and looking hopeful for Daryn's approval. He then returned to the chair.

      There was a certain vacuousness to Argril's behavior. All doggy. Not a care in the world. Just happy to be spending time with someone who wanted to pay attention to him. But the moment Daryn asked, Argril looked down at the pad in question, and immediately put his hand upon it - happy dog happy to play this game if the bird man wanted.
      Rick Canaan's Signature
      Insatiable Curiosity Roleplay Information:
      Open ContentSPOILER


        Sohdakin smiled and chuckled softly at Kel's last question. He wondered if the League had gone soft or their discipline was lacking in some area's. Perhaps this was a product of how she was trained in the King'ras military. He looked at her momentarily before a curious brow rose.

        "Most snipers I know, would have just accepted the assignment and gathered the details as they became available, eager at the chance to be on an operation and not sitting idle." he said in a slightly disapproving tone. Despite this tone, he did not seem agitated or upset. Sohdakin seemed more curious than anything. Wondering what sort of Marine he just inherited. He also hoped that the King'ras got the hint.

        "Mmmmmmm, right now, it is nothing but may turn into something. That is all I am able to say at this moment. Do you want the blueprints and mission parameters or not?"
        Sohdakin's Signature
        Sohdakin Stonetallon - Major
        Battle Dress Assault Commander
        Insatiable Curiosity Crew Card


          *Kel's face drooped a bit into one of mild annoyance, "This one is not most sneepers. This one pre-cise, acc-ur-ate,tr-ained... cau-ti-ous. Young Snee-pers go feet in fir-st. Old Snee-pers go ri-fle in fir-st. This One not yo-ung. Old e-nough to un-der-stand..." She didn't know how the League military did things in full, offering no detailed information on an operation to come was basically leaving whoever in the dark and very likely to ruin the operation, get the operatives killed OR both! Maybe the League military had a rare occurrence and Sodhakin was a byproduct of lacking wisdom or perhaps the fellow was lacking detailed information himself. Either or, made this "opportunity" seem less opportune and more along the lines of getting this Kingrian's fluffy rear mounted on a wall.

          "Pre-vi-ous fi-eld op-er-a-tions off-ered much more de-tails." She headtilts, lacing her fingers before resting them on the table, "Good hun-ters know where and how to st-rike. Know-ing is se-ven-ty fi-ve per-cent of bat-tle. Ma-jor gives more know-ing, Cap-tain gives more..." She bobs her head for a moment, looking for a good work, before smiling, "Vi-able rea-sults." She didn't act please, simply polite, "If you wish to ques-tion this One's cap-a-bil-i-ties, then Major can read more of Pac'Atni Kel'Jec Ve'Houl. One can say this of One's self." She straightens her head, leaning forward some as her smile faded and her face shaded some. Her blue eye glowed dimly with her kind's natural florescence.

          "One did not earn Cap-tain for be-ing bad shoo-ter nor dim of mind. One will give good work when giv-en good in-for-ma-tion. One nev-er said no. One wan-ted to know more." She then leans back and smiles again, "Work smart, not hard." She says, chuckling.