What We Built Without You: The Remainders' encampment

[Lavender]

Lav did not move to look at Xi'asz, did not seem to react at all to the sudden startled expression. Lav was not unaware of Xi'asz over-focused attention to the creation of a meal large enough not only for the crew, but for an entire derelict station. Vivid, ultraviolet pulses were tinged with glassy white, thin veins of a more murky, bruised plum pulsing more slowly, barely perceptible on their skin. The plum was trying to hide - the guilt.

Finishing one task brings another. It was monotonous work. In the back of their mind, Lav could remember feeling some sense of joy in this work. It felt foreign now. Ingredients were necessary otherwise the dish would be inedible. Inedible nutrients were a waste. That the dish was required to be pungent - flavorful - was insignificant. The herbs, spices, were called for, and so they were chopped, measured, set in bowls to be used as the unnecessary but required flavors were built slowly into one cohesive dish.

"Safety. Theirs, yours. Reasons beyond that. Tik's too close to the captain. The doctor's views on the enemy are...complicated. And you," he lifted the pan from the burner and shook it to toss the sauteeing aromatics, "you've got enough going on. You try to cloak it, the alcohol-fueled tempest raging within you – yeah, I've noticed my stash dwindling rapidly – but it's going to swallow you. I'll help you if you want it, but I'm not letting it take down everyone else with you."

He turned his attention back to the pan and added the chopped onions.

"Safety." they repeated the word, as if they were trying it on. They still had not looked up, a bundle of some earthy green herb tightly coiled into a bundle in one hand while the knife chopped them roughly. It was garnish. Something to put on top. To color and make for a nice presentation. Garnish was good to add flavor, but could also be used to mask or mute other flavors. Lav remembered that much.

Safety felt like garnish. They gave Xi'asz a knowing look as the cels on their skin rippled, the plum color seemingly forced to overtake all other colors to give more color to their otherwise grey flesh.

They brought the green herbs over to be sprinkled on when Xi'asz saw fit. The unleavened breads would need to be removed before they burned. "I am fine." they said, voice sounding like a choked bell. Like they had said the words more times than they would like to count, and still was not sure they believed them.

"But what will happen to this place if you are not here for it? Can it remain safe?" they asked, reaching in with tongs to remove breads and place them on trays.

There was another question, bubbling under the rest. It made Lav's face contort as they tried to think why it mattered. "How did you decide who deserves to be safe?"

[Betua Argent]

"Oh."

"Ohhhhh..."

Tik sinks their head into their hands and groans. "Ohhhh..." Hands still firmly applied to face, Tik raises their gaze to look at the greeting party through parted fingers. "I am an idiot and I've done something horribly offensive," Tik says, subdued. They pull their hands down their face, which responds roughly like a biological face would if that face was made of particularly spongy foam rubber. It's a little disconcerting. Normally their biological mimicry is much more accurate, but their thought processes are occupied with how awful they've been.

"I am so sorry," they say a little more loudly, looking to each of the 'remainders' in turn. "Your family members were very dear to me and I deeply apologize for everything that's happened."

Betua saw Tik's mistake and even understood how they made it, but xe really did not have the conversational script for how to gently bring it to their attention, so that more direct duty had to fall to Xi'asz. Xe does, however, drop back to put an arm around Tik's shoulder as they make their way in. "Propagation by root cutting or grafting is a practice with a long history, especially in communities devastated by disaster, so it's an understandable mistake to make." Granted, in this day and age it is highly controversial, to say the least, but xe doesn't need to tell Tik that right now.

"Are you... surrendering?" she asks hesitantly, her eyes narrowing in confusion as she tilts her head to the side, catching a glimpse of Tik from the corner of her eye.

"Uppies!" Swid corrects, bouncing again on their tippy-toes for emphasis.

Betua is ready to step in at this point. Xe has no real experience with children of any species, but xe has been widely informed that many species enjoy climbing dendriform structures, especially children and especially those with an evolutionary history of brachiation or arboreal living. Xe has a reasonable expectation that xe can support the child's mass and that the child will find the experience enriching to a greater or lesser degree.

But it turns out to be unnecessary, as Captain Kyeera, against all expectation, pulls the child into her lap. As a friendly, if awkward, gesture even, not as a means of taking a hostage. Betua is unprepared for the effect the sight has on xer. "I...believe you have grasped the concept," xe says haltingly, half-convinced xe can feel a breeze in xer branches. Stop being ridiculous, xe tells herself, though xe starts unconsciously tilting xer head around. Sure, xe's done xer duty to the species and deposited the necessary materials in a seed bank, but xe's never seriously considered propagation, let alone nurturance, let alone with Kyeera, of all people.

Until now anyway. Betua looks to Khal. "They are a lovely child. Clearly precocious." Khal is not able to respond immediately.

[Kyeera Hastur]

But it turns out to be unnecessary, as Captain Kyeera, against all expectation, pulls the child into her lap. As a friendly, if awkward, gesture even, not as a means of taking a hostage. Betua is unprepared for the effect the sight has on xer. "I...believe you have grasped the concept," xe says haltingly, half-convinced xe can feel a breeze in xer branches. Stop being ridiculous, xe tells herself, though xe starts unconsciously tilting xer head around. Sure, xe's done xer duty to the species and deposited the necessary materials in a seed bank, but xe's never seriously considered propagation, let alone nurturance, let alone with Kyeera, of all people.

Until now anyway. Betua looks to Khal. "They are a lovely child. Clearly precocious." Khal is not able to respond immediately.

Kyeera looks down at the child, slightly unsure of what to do with their hands. They were supporting themself just fine on her lap, though the creature looked top-heavy, causing her to place a hand on their shoulder to ensure that they are steady. Almost unconsciously, she also pushes her silverware out of the child's reach with her other hand. Though that leaves her uncertain of what to do for herself when eating her food. Looking at the plate, she determines that it'd be better to just eat once the child has gotten what it wants and left.

"Is lovely the correct term?" she asks idly. Looking to Betua, her face remains unreadably confused by the situation. "My only experience with children comes from my own people, and 'lovely' is most certainly not a descriptor I would use to describe them. Dangerous, calculating perhaps, but certainly not 'lovely'," she huffs out something close to a laugh as she plays with a bit of Swid's hair, causing them to grab her hand and whoop with laughter as she easily lifts them from their perch and sets them back down again. "Maybe its because I'm quickly coming to my Matron years, or because I'm quite certain that my skills in hand-to-hand combat outmatch whatever this child is capable of, but maybe you are right in using that word for this one."

[Xi’asz Séalgair]

Lav's detached nature was nothing new, but its depth was disconcerting. They'd always been one of the more unflappable of the Siren's crew and for that they had Xi'asz's respect. Now, though, it felt like they'd gone around the corner from collected to numb. His subtle attempt at getting a rise out of Lav proved that.

When he looked back on it, Xi'asz felt some remorse for trying to bait Lav into a small confrontation. That didn't change that he needed to know where Lav was. Or that he needed to have the same information about the rest of the crew as they hurtled toward the inevitable.

They brought the green herbs over to be sprinkled on when Xi'asz saw fit. The unleavened breads would need to be removed before they burned. "I am fine." they said, voice sounding like a choked bell. Like they had said the words more times than they would like to count, and still was not sure they believed them.

"But what will happen to this place if you are not here for it? Can it remain safe?" they asked, reaching in with tongs to remove breads and place them on trays.

"If you remember anything about me at all, you have to know I always have contingencies in place," Xi'asz said, pulling the breads from the oven and sprinkling them with the diced greens. "At this point, the sanctuary can carry on for many years without any outside interference. My activites make their lives more comfortable, but I made sure that I'm not vital to their surivival. We already failed their families, I've tried to make it so I don't do it again."

There was another question, bubbling under the rest. It made Lav's face contort as they tried to think why it mattered. "How did you decide who deserves to be safe?"

Xi'asz stopped plating the meal. Stopped garnishing and seasoning.

"We all do Lav. That's why I'm doing this. I hope that's why you are too."

[Lavender]

"If you remember anything about me at all, you have to know I always have contingencies in place," Xi'asz said, pulling the breads from the oven and sprinkling them with the diced greens. "At this point, the sanctuary can carry on for many years without any outside interference. My activities make their lives more comfortable, but I made sure that I'm not vital to their survival. We already failed their families, I've tried to make it so I don't do it again."

Lav considered Xi'asz for a moment, pausing mid action and simply staring. It wasn't that they had forgotten Xi'asz, or anything really. They still remembered everyone as they were. Still recalled planning, fighting, losing. They remembered losing. Memories replayed in their mind like a film, just one that did not seem to have any direct meaning to them. "I remember everything." they said. Matter of fact, with a soft, unoffended chime. It was a simple mistake.

"You have built a sanctuary. A place for protection." they said calmly, for a moment as if they were just as collected as they had always been. The fact was it was easier with one being, and one that had a stronger sense of beliefs. A singular focus on duty. But not overwhelming. Not overwhelming because it was his. Xi'asz's convictions were not what he put on others. Not something he relied on others for. So it was easier to read them coldly and understand them, "Because that is what you do. Alone. But are they prepared if the worst occurs? Beyond simply surviving?" They added as they went back to work finishing the last steps for preparation. It was an easy enough evaluation of Xi'asz's character, though Lav's tone had lacked the emotional resonance to tell if it was a cold calculation, a teasing joke, or something more intimate and endearing. It was just a statement. A statement that could be made while completing a task that they had been sent to the kitchen to perform and was doing so.

They blinked for a moment as thoughts caught up to them and wondered for a moment if there was something wrong in that.

Xi'asz stopped plating the meal. Stopped garnishing and seasoning.

"We all do Lav. That's why I'm doing this. I hope that's why you are too."

The pause lingered, broken by a rattling chime that should have been more vibrant, more like a contemplative hum but was still lacking somewhere. Their attention turned to the doors, behind which was group of beings. Beings that deserved to be safe. "If that is what it takes for this to end, then yes. Everyone will be safe." They intoned as they set platters on a cart for Xi'asz to take to the likely hungry colony.

[78rpmlife]

"Is lovely the correct term?" she asks idly. Looking to Betua, her face remains unreadably confused by the situation. "My only experience with children comes from my own people, and 'lovely' is most certainly not a descriptor I would use to describe them. Dangerous, calculating perhaps, but certainly not 'lovely'," she huffs out something close to a laugh as she plays with a bit of Swid's hair, causing them to grab her hand and whoop with laughter as she easily lifts them from their perch and sets them back down again. "Maybe its because I'm quickly coming to my Matron years, or because I'm quite certain that my skills in hand-to-hand combat outmatch whatever this child is capable of, but maybe you are right in using that word for this one."

Tik, still reserved, watches the scene expressionlessly. They are thankful their physical body is in another dimension when the captain mentions approaching her Matron years. There's just enough delay in transmission from physical to projection to keep the disbelieving snort from actually sounding in this dimension. Kyeera wouldn't even water the plants. The idea of her being a matron is...

Is...

Tik looks away. They're still angry at Kyeera. They may always and forever be angry at Kyeera for her selfishness and lack of empathy and... and all those irritating little things that came to a sharp point that day she told Tik they weren't enough. And yet, all those things that Tik saw in her when they came in search of someone to help them, to help their people, are still there. To see her with a child in her lap, to think that there's any chance that one day she might be that person, well...

They may always be angry at Kyeera, but with a dull ache felt somewhere between this dimension and that one, Tik realizes that they will also always love her.

"I haven't had much opportunity to be around children of any species," Tik hears the words a bit before they realize they've said them. "But this one does indeed seem lovely."

Until now anyway. Betua looks to Khal. "They are a lovely child. Clearly precocious." Khal is not able to respond immediately.

Khal produces a series of clicks that translate roughly as dry amusement. "Swid is a constant source of wonder and terror. Much like the offspring of most species, I believe. Once you find yourself in the middle of raising one you simply hold on for the ride and do your best."

Tik makes a murmur of understanding. "I find myself feeling like that all the time, and I have no responsibility for raising any offspring. You have my deep respect."

[Kyeera Hastur]

Tik, still reserved, watches the scene expressionlessly. They are thankful their physical body is in another dimension when the captain mentions approaching her Matron years. There's just enough delay in transmission from physical to projection to keep the disbelieving snort from actually sounding in this dimension. Kyeera wouldn't even water the plants. The idea of her being a matron is...

Is...

Tik looks away. They're still angry at Kyeera. They may always and forever be angry at Kyeera for her selfishness and lack of empathy and... and all those irritating little things that came to a sharp point that day she told Tik they weren't enough. And yet, all those things that Tik saw in her when they came in search of someone to help them, to help their people, are still there. To see her with a child in her lap, to think that there's any chance that one day she might be that person, well...

They may always be angry at Kyeera, but with a dull ache felt somewhere between this dimension and that one, Tik realizes that they will also always love her.

"I haven't had much opportunity to be around children of any species," Tik hears the words a bit before they realize they've said them. "But this one does indeed seem lovely."

Kyeera can see the slight flicker around the edges of Tik's form. Can feel the uncertainty radiating from her in the way that only those that have spent countless hours around each other (or Lav) can. She wasn't blind to Tik's desires, but she knew she couldn't be what they wanted. She wasn't that kind of person. Most people would probably gush at the cute child in their lap, grasping and tugging at their fingers like strange playthings and babbling incoherent nonsense about what they drew today and the picture of a dog they got to see once.

The most that Kyeera felt was reverence. That the people here trusted her enough to allow such a fragile, pure creature to be within her grasp. The least that she felt, however, was the gaping void in her gut that told her that she should be feeling something about this situation. Something more.

Truthfully, she liked the child, but she didn't want to take it further than that. Liking people usually got them killed, or hurt.

She can hear it in Tik's voice, and she still felt guilty at what she'd said to them... however necessary it was.

She muses for a brief moment about taking Tik to an orphanage, to expose her to a wide variety of children and grant her that experience. She quickly realizes that that is a terrible idea, and that orphanages are not petting zoos. That, and she could see Tik misinterpreting the visit as a chance for them to experience the joys of raising a mutual progeny, and that would be... ill-advised.

[Xi’asz Séalgair]

The pause lingered, broken by a rattling chime that should have been more vibrant, more like a contemplative hum but was still lacking somewhere. Their attention turned to the doors, behind which was group of beings. Beings that deserved to be safe. "If that is what it takes for this to end, then yes. Everyone will be safe." They intoned as they set platters on a cart for Xi'asz to take to the likely hungry colony.

The chiming that accompanied Lav's vocalizations once had been more endearing, Xi'asz thought, deeply beholding Lav for the first time since the crew's reunion. It once had a playful quality, bouyant, ethereal. Their eyes used to have a mischevious sheen to it that somehow matched the playful chimes.

That was gone now. They looked spent. The luster was gone. The chimes discordant and tarnished.

It was easy for any of them to believe they'd suffered the brunt of what had happened; guilt and remorse always attempting to fill a scarred emptiness will lead to that kind of thinking. But that, while easy, minimized everyone else's pain and risked turning every interaction into a misery spiral that woudn't make anything right.

"I've done my best to train them, I've had some success at it," he said, gently rolling the serving cart towards the dining room. "They'll be safe enough without me, if it comes to that."

He frowned a bit when he noticed Lav stayed rooted in place instead of following. A realization dawned on Xi'asz that he couldn't recall Lav taking a meal with the rest of the crew in the time they'd been back together. The possibilities of why roiled through his mind, but he decided "why" wasn't the correct question as he pulled a plate back and set it on the counter before dragging a barrel over for Lav to perch on while they ate. He clapped them on the shoulder and poured a bright vermillion juice into a glass, adding just a drop of clear liquor from his flask.

"Enjoy the meal Lav," he said, pushing the cart out the door, one wheel waggling in an annoying fashion. "But don't linger on it too long. There's still some merriment to be had before we have to get down to it."

[Lavender]

"Enjoy the meal Lav," he said, pushing the cart out the door, one wheel waggling in an annoying fashion. "But don't linger on it too long. There's still some merriment to be had before we have to get down to it."

'Merriment..'

The word rolled along the edges of Lav's thinking as they watched Xi'asz leave. Stared blankly at the closed panel door. Mapped out the line where the two plates met and seemingly judged it for symmetry. At least, one might be excused for thinking that was what Lav was doing. In truth, they were just staring.

Merriment felt like such an odd choice in words for why they were all here. And yet, the act of cooking a meal together once felt like merriment. Something that teased the corners of Lav's consciousness the longer they contemplated the word.

"Not everyone can be saved, Xi'asz. Not everyone wants to be saved.." they spoke to the empty room, voice as hollow as their surroundings. Hands languidly stroked along the metal table they had used for their preparations as Lav approached the offered meal. They had intended on simply pilfering a nutrition pouch from the station's stores. But food should not be wasted, even if it would feel wasted on them. Flavor was something unimportant to the act of ensuring one's body was able to continue. Caloric intake, protein, fiber, nutrients and minerals. These things the body needed. But they did not necessarily impart flavor. Zest from certain fruits mixed with acids from others, punctuated by herbs and spices. Spices? They had not remembered adding spice in particular. But the burn was there, subtly.

Lav looked at the vermilion drink Xi'asz had left. Either a peace offering, or some vain attempt to 'help' by adding such a minimal drop of what Lav truly needed. Something to feel numb. Still, a self-sustaining station such as this could not let things go to waste.

And yet it somehow felt so wasted.

They could wait. Wait until the dishes returned. Busy themself by cleaning. The Captain had suggested taking their time in the kitchen. But inventorying the amounts of various foodstuffs seemed menial. Wrong. There was likely someone who already had this job. Duplicating the work - particularly if done by an outsider - could raise suspicions. There were some who had felt suspicious of the crew when they disembarked.

'Lets see what Xi'asz has built for them..' Lav thought with a push off their crate. A look down the corridors, a random direction, and a walk. Disappearing into the bowels of the cobbled together encampment. Most doors were closed, set with locks that made it clear these were personal chambers. Common areas were strewn, some lingering denizens performing tasks. Lav did not have to try hard to feel the sense of anxiety, they could hear it in whispers.

'Xi'asz is back again. Brought them with him.'
'Why are they here?..'[/i]
'I never thought I would see them in person.'

So many mixed up feelings. Lav rubbed their brow, turning back. They should really just stay on the ship, but somewhere in their walk, Lav realized they were not sure where the ship was. Another mistake, not keeping track of their surroundings. The encampment could not be so big they would not find their way eventually though, so Lav just continued walking. There was a large set of doors ahead of them, not big enough to be a hanger, but likely the right direction.

Stepping through the doors, however, Lav realized it was exactly the wrong direction. Their jaw opened slightly in surprise as they took in what looked to have been a cargo hold as they suspected, but repurposed. Inside, small shrines were placed, holographic plates flickering with images of faces of the departed. Former crew. Those they had lost. 'Of course. These are those that remain. And this is what was once whole.' Lav thought to themself as they cautiously stepped further inside. It felt sacred. The fact that they were setting foot, profane.. Soltrice, staring back at them from behind a hammered bowl filled with sand and two burned down sticks. Lyantha standing at attention, the small puck maintaining their form resting on top of a tattered banner with their crest embroidered boldly against a verdant fabric.

Still others lined the walls with little indication of order or ranking, each with little reminders of who they were in life. Connected to each display was a small console listing dates and timestamps. Messages. Every date listed ticking down to their previous final encounter with the NCE.

And there, atop a simple workbench, a small hammered plaque, the face of Zimeon stared back and frowned. Half frowned. Zimeon could never quite fully manage a smile.

"When we all first came together, there was a lot of in-fighting about what would be best." Bracken rubbed the back of his head as he approached, looking around the room, "This was set up to remind us we're all connected, one way or another. My idea..."

► Show Spoiler

We find a personal cache of messages, never sent. Do you take this as an opportunity to say what you’ve always wanted to say, or does the silence grow more tense and painful between us?