Appetence

Archive Log: 17

"Run through this list again for me then."

"Honestly, I don't think looking over a list of possible crew members is what you should be doing. You have, after all, just been discharged, father." Minerva was trying, epically failing even, to stop Weyland from pottering about the office. He'd been out of hospital now for roughly two hours. Instead of going home, he told the driver to take them to the office. Minerva had expressed her worry and concern then and there, a dismissive hand was waved her way, while David got asked whether he thought that he was pushing himself too soon. David had replied; 'Sir, sitting at a desk is hardly tiring.' This was coming from someone who didn't get tired. Minerva shot David a look, he tilted his head with a smile. Weyland seemed to hear the magic words and waved a hand at Minerva, again.

The man had just had a mini-stroke, bought on by stress or something else, she didn't know. She did know however the last thing he needed was to be working! Who did that? Who? No one, no one sane that is. It just showed that Peter Weyland never switched off, even after a health scare. In some part she admired him for that, the never giving in, the refusal to bow down to the limits of his own mortality and welfare. But ultimately, she was worried. She already thought she had watched him dying, she didn't actually want to see him die. Let alone in that damn bright and shiny office. Though, to be honest, she wouldn't put it past him.

Sitting down at his desk, Weyland moved things aside and made it his space again. He did glance at Minerva, she may have been a little messy...just a little. Leaning back in the chair, he crossed his hands on his stomach and looked at the two synthetics in front of him. "The list, Minerva."

She sighed, she looked at David and he just inclined his head. She leaned down and pulled the thin tablet from her satchel. Pushing hair over her ear she logged on and skimmed about before finding the file of names. "Nineteen."

"Sorry?" Weyland looked at her questionably, an eyebrow rose and he even looked at David. He leaned close and looked over her shoulder. He reached up and gently swatted her hand out the way to skim up and down the page too. His eyes flicked over the list, he frowned slowly yet looked up and nodded. "Seriously? Are they all needed?"

"Father, you concocted the list." Minerva sighed, she repaid the favour and shooed David's hand away so she could look at the file again. There did seem to be an overload of people here. "You made the list even before..." She trailed off, not wanting to remember the health scare. Somehow, she wasn't too sure how, but since then he seemed older, frailer, his skin was paler, his hair greying more. He walked slightly stooped, and slower, his pace not so quick, yet the looks he gave were as quick as ever. Even if his body had slowed down slightly, his mind really hadn't.

"Who's on it?" He asked, pulling the chair more under the desk and leaning his arms against it.

Minerva raised her eyebrows, "Erm, well, Idris Janek, the Captain, we...well, we sort of need him."

Weyland raised an eyebrow in turn too, "Minerva, I'm not suggesting we cross anyone off. Just, I want to make sure everyone on the list is needed."

She nodded silently and looked back down. "Meredith, you could probably do without her."

That had Weyland scoffing, "Can you imagine the reaction? Being axed from this mission, along with thinking she'll be in charge of the company. No. No, she's staying where I can see her."

Minerva opened her mouth, only to shut it. There was really no trust there. "Emun Chance, Benedict Ravel, they're both pilots and one is a navigator. David, of course, mission attendant. Doctor Elizabeth Shaw, and Doctor Charlie Holloway, lead scientists. Rafe Millburn, he's a biologist apparently. Sean Fifield, geologist. Kate Ford, medical officer. Corporal B. Jackson, V. Furdik, R. Sheppard, L. Tap-low, they're security. Then a couple of mechanics, and yourself."