The ship groaned beneath his feet, which honestly was never a good sign. Sir Bron sighed as he looked out over the main hall of the Camelot, the ship, no, his ship, was gradually starting to look more operational. Not at all in the way he would have liked, less like a vehicle more like a building, but at least it wasn’t a ruin anymore. Soon he would have the civilian areas up to what he considered a living standard. And then, well he would simply move on to the next deck.
“Sir! there has been a change of plans Sir!” His comm-line buzzed to life, right as he was about to begin preparations for the inaugural dinner. “Do tell Swanson. But be quick about it if you please.” Swanson had been his ,’ for half a decade now, a reliable officer, not as prone to nonsense as some. “Inaugural dinner postponed, pending resolution of supply issues Sir, apparently someone is giving Commander Damodred trouble.” Well that did not bode well, on the other hand, maybe the sword would finally get the supply lines overhauled into something that would resemble a functional system. “I see, very well. Carry on as usual, and ask the scouts to assess damages on the next deck down, this one is livable enough to hold until the mechanics can check her over.” Of course it also meant he did not have to attend a formal dinner just yet. Not that Sir Bron hated it, but it just seemed like a waste to him.
Mordred kept a brusque pace as he shoved the grav-lifter before him, atop it were the requested supplies and back orders for the order of the road. his own order had to wait as it apparently required more sorting and re labeling of shelves, something the newly instated master of storage would no doubt lament quite a bit. behind him followed his entourage, chuckling no doubt, as they too wished to assist the order that requested the odd mix of medical and construction supplies. (Mordred was rather certain everyone just wanted to watch the world burn in his wake at this point, or perhaps was just curious to see what might unfold next.) Mere moments ago he had arrested the entire supply deck staff and thrust all responsibility upon a single person, who promptly managed to fetch three grav sleds worth of supplies to be delivered to Sir Ingles. Today as such decidedly did not go as planned, and so here they were doing a supply run. “At least you needn’t travel to the Camelot, Mordred, and have a second dinner.” Sir Ton quipped, still in an attempt to ease Mordred’s temper. “Ah, yes I suppose doing chores rather keeps me from visiting friends eh?”Mordred joked back, though his tone did not quite reach his usual mirth. Sir Iwan pushed without a word, shadows closing in on all corners of his mind. How could he possibly prevent getting into trouble? He just saw an entire deck getting arrested, and escorted to the brig over supply issues, and here he was secretly stockpiling them!
Granted he only did so to avoid these exact same supply problems….
Master of logistics Juliën Lagrange sighed as he went through years worth of backed up requests, filtering out those that seemed to be oldest and comparing them to requests made by the same orders that might be for the same items or even upgrades there-of. “The work is endless, and the requests keep coming, perhaps if I were to fulfill the most recent first and work in reverse.” He muttered to no-one in particular. After all the staff was mostly arrested, or absent. As such he was not expecting any form of response. “You could do that Sir, or you could cross reference the system, to see what correlations there are, but for either course of action you would need to verify the state of the goods you need to attain and ship, and of course whether or not we even have them. Oh also hello” The words caught Juliën by surprise, so much so he bit his own tongue.(not too severely, just enough to really hurt, and bleed a little.) As such he stared at the thing that spoke in utter stunned silence. There in the corner sat a thing he had only heard of in passing, read about in rumor posts on the forums, a machine that looked like a little girl, but, something seemed off about it. (aside from such machines not belonging on a ship such as this but in the homes of wealthy aristocrats back on the home worlds, and decidedly not on a logistics deck.) The way it sat, slumped against the stacks, did not match it’s helpful and chipper remark, and why was it in the dark? “I ,” He swallowed, the pain had made him salivate too much. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there before, do you work here?” As far as first introductions went it wasn’t his best, but it beat something like’ aah! ‘ He just hoped he didn’t seem like a complete idiot. “That’s quite alright Sir, I usually get ignored..” The thing hadn’t moved, and as Juliën approached he could see why. It’s joints were bent, plating warped and dented. Someone had deliberately beaten this robot until it couldn’t move.
It’s eyes turned up to meet his, one was blue, the other hazel. “And I used to. ”
For reasons he himself did not understand former page Juliën Lagrange, master of logistics, felt anger well up inside him. And pushed it down. “Would you like to again? I could use the help. We would need to fix you first, but maybe you could tell me where to look for things until then?” He learned where his anger came from when that beaten face smiled at him with a chipper. “Yes Sir, very much so.”
Raz Blackheart 