HIGH ROLLER ! [TRIGUN STAMPEDE]

Habituation

a/n:
being liberal with deviations...

—

Following the clean up of the ship, and accounting for everyone survived and unharmed (Aside from Emilio, in an induced coma for getting crushed by our dear reporters) the eternal storm resumes around the ship, as well as with their barriers. Glad Emilio hadn't damaged anything besides of course, the research dome, which would take some time to repair if at all. Scrap really now. All plants remained fully functional and fully operational. Though as I see it, in the last three years this ship has taken some hits for what wasn't intended to be a battleship. No doubt it would be a target once agian. I suggested to Luida and Brad they start thinking of how to get innovative.

"And what, the famous doctor can't come up with anything?" Brad taunts at me.

"I'm not an aerospace engingeer. I can't be everything."

"You sure act like it." Touchè. "You know how the energy conversion works to create the storm with the gravity plant. Don't pretend you're useless."

"True. I was thinking of flight. When it comes to the manufacturing or conversion of parts, I'm not so sure about the mechanical side, even if I know how."

Brad looks at Luida. "We were thinking of that too."

"Dr Rika–"

"Rebecca," I correct.

"Rebecca, I'd like to ask for your help. If we work together to prevent more damages from Knives' crew we would be better equipped–"

"Okay."

She pauses, looks surprised even for a moment.

"Don't need to tell me twice. Tell me what you want and I'll do it," I remark. "I cannot say I've worked this brain in a long time though–"

"That's not true. The Ark's energy usage– the signature it gives out– has you written all over it." Brad looks at her and back to me, with his usual distrustful glare.

I become silent for a moment. "It's not like that."

"I'm not accusing you. It's just that now, more than ever, we'll need your help."

Did she have to go and make things awkward? "I already agreed," I complain, scratching at my own head and resisting the urge to pull out my hair.

She glazes me over once more. Settles on the seams of my shirt, at the collar. "I'll invite you to a meeting later," she says, warmly, but almost like she has the hint of a snicker in the back of her throat. For what? I don't know.

Someone grabs me from behind. "Ms. Rebecca! Are you gonna come help me cook or what?"

I look down at Jessica behind me. "It's not as if I'm a good cook, but I promised, so."

I follow her to the nutrition wing, where she's gathered thomas' eggs for supposed omurice.

"Right! This one is from your country, right! So you have to help me make it," she exclaims. "I need to make one special for Vash!"

"I see... did I say that?" I look at the sheer size of the eggs, matching up to the size of her head. It's also so strange, that on another planet we weren't even bound for there ended up being these large avians, sturdy enough to ride, that can't fly but are receptive to domestication in under the first 50 years on this planet. Their food sources certainly can't be any vegetation as this planet lacks that in abundance, and worms are a hard food source to compete with and yet somehow they manage. Nutrient dense, but rare that they lay. This is certainly one special meal.Without plants on this planet, would we be able to accomadate the daily intake required for survival without malnourishment, deformities, starvation, deficincies...? These birds have done it somehow, but humans definitely aren't adapted. Well, it's true I can also survive without food for several days. I haven't ever tested how long I could do it though. To make more like me though? Unlike Elendira who was created from Knives cells and a total lack of nuturing, my metamorphisis is violent, and continues to be. What is this? The third time I've come out of a cocoon of certain death. No visible sign to others I'm deteriorating in any way, but doesn't mean I'm not. Nothing good can come of the eugenics Dr. Conrad is trying to aspire to.