The Childrens Rebellion

the fault in our...planet, fuck that shit. (in our stars)

Tommy crossed his arms. "You promised," he said. "We pinky-swore."

"We didn't pinky-swear," Wilbur nearly snarled at him. Philza's wife, a nice black-haired woman named Kristin, blinked between them. "Kristin's an ambassador, and Tubbo's a Lieutenant. You're a citizen."

Tommy smirked. "Ensign, now," he corrected. "Philza got me enrolled in Fleet school online. He said I'm like Lani and Drista—whoever that is—except I'm under Dream."

"And why, exactly, would Kristin and Tubbo need a pilot?"

Tubbo cleared his throat from where he stood on the transporter. The Kitsune at the transporter control station—or, in fancy terms, the dematerialization and rematerialization automaton—looked mildly amused, his orange fox-like ears swiveling to better listen to the argument. "You know," Tubbo said. "We never know when we might need to make an escape."

"You'd have to steal a ship," Wilbur said.

"Never know when you might have to do that too," the Kitsune said.

Wilbur turned his pointed gaze upon him. "You're not helping, Fundy."

"I'm always helpful."

Tommy sighed. "Come on, please?" he said. "You promised."

"In my defense," Wilbur said slowly. "I didn't expect...that to happen. Congratulations, Tommy. You just shattered the record for the hundred-yard dash on the L'manburg." He threw up his hands. "Hell, with some months of practice—maybe even weeks—you could beat the cross-species record."

"I'm just that cool."

"No, you're an unknown package of biology that Niki and George really want to get their grubby hands on," Wilbur corrected. "Kristin...is it okay?"

"YES!" Tommy whooped, without waiting for the Human's answer.

Kristin gave him a fond smile. "It's a short meeting, not a three-day one, Wil," she said kindly. "Tubbo won't even talk. It's just me and a few delegates planning a date that Command will send a few official representatives to negotiate with."

"Aren't you an official representative?" Tommy asked through furrowed eyebrows as he stepped onto the transporter.

"Well, yes," she said. "But I'm a Fleet representative. I went to Fleet school—I learned all the things that you're going to learn plus negotiation, debate, and a few other things on my major." She smiled. "Which included learning how to fire a phaser and how to rig a ship to explode." Kristin turned back to Wilbur. "I know where we're beaming down to. There's a field a little way into the forest that they can stay in. Negotiations are boring for kids anyway."

"I wish I could see the consistency of the plant's atoms," Tubbo said dreamily. "Apparently, they're mostly purple due to the increased atmosphere—even though they're an M-class planet." He shook his head. "Blue skies, too. But purple instead of green...?"

"I thought you were the C.O.O?" Tommy asked him.

"Yeah, but I was almost a science major," Tubbo told him.

Wilbur coughed. "Don't do anything stupid," he told Tommy, though, by the extent that he eyed Tubbo, it was half at him as well.

Tommy saluted him smartly. "Yes, sir."

Kristin handed him a comm. "This is for contacting the different ship units," she explained, showing him the different buttons. "Though the auto-link is to Fundy."

Tommy nodded. "I had one back on the H.M.S Fran," he said, examining it. "Though it wasn't as advanced." He hooked it to the edge of his pants like Tubbo's was. Kristin's was in a bracelet around her wrist; a personal choice since she was wearing a lovely dress that didn't have anything around the waist that she could clip it to.