002

[pocketpal]

Who: ELN-1470
Broadcast: Yes! Fleet-wide
Action: On the Starstruck
When: 3/7

[ ELN broadcasts from the control room of the Starstruck. She is sitting on a control panel, because that's the only way she can reach the controls: by walking over them. ]

It has come to my attention that the vast majority of you have - [ a brief pause, a sigh ] - names. Which means that, in the interests of efficiency, I must have one as well.

[ Really, she wants to know what it feels like, to have that kind of mark of individuality. But she pretends at disdain. ]

I do not know how an individual goes about procuring a name. Therefore, I offer the first three letters of my designation - E-L-N. You may proffer suggestions based on those.

Comments

[pocketpal]

Do you want them eventually removed or not?

[noctiphile]

... Is this check-up to remove them?

[pocketpal]

Only if you've been taking proper care of them and it's healed well enough.

[noctiphile]

Ah, yes. That... might have fallen to the wayside.

[pocketpal]

Then your check-up is so that I don't hunt you down and give you a good knock on the uninjured part of your head.

[noctiphile]

Convincing enough. [He sighs.] Fine, I'll submit. You win. Should I meet you in the medical bay?

[pocketpal]

Yes.

[noctiphile]

Then that's where I'll be.

[pocketpal]

[ It's not where she will be.

At least, until there's a clank and she climbs out of the ventilation shaft, dropping down lightly to a countertop. ]

Hello. Pull a chair up and sit down.

[ She goes to wash her hands, a complicated maneuver that involves kicking on the sink, and leaning precariously out so as not to entirely submerge herself. ]

[noctiphile]

[He expected a wait. Came prepared with a book in hand; he peeks over it as she clambers down. Begins an odyssey for such a simple task. Sighing, he lowers the book and pulls a chair close to where she is.]

We really must get something to help you get around.

[pocketpal]

I don't need it.

[ And now she lifts a first aid kit that's larger than she is clean over her head and picks her way around obstacles towards him. ]

Now let me see.

[noctiphile]

[Her feats of strength are always impressive, he does his best not to stare.]

Yes, Ma'am.

[Muttered as he folds over the high collar of his tunic, exposing the stitches. They're not infected, but not clean either, the result of inconsistent maintenance.]

[pocketpal]

Well, it could be worse.

[ This is the closest to praise that she usually gets. She starts cleaning them, brisk dabs of antiseptic. ]

[noctiphile]

[He laughs softly.]

I did try. Just... not very hard. My work is surprisingly engrossing.

[Did you know he can listen to private conversations, ELN? Guess what he's been doing.]

[pocketpal]

I suppose faster-than-light communication helps.

[ She was stuck with lightspeed, in her universe. ]

[noctiphile]

[He chuckles.]

Well, it certainly beats birds and horses. How are you adjusting?

[pocketpal]

I am built for ready adaptation to new circumstances.

[noctiphile]

That always seems odd. Is there truly no situation you wouldn't feel out of sorts in?

[pocketpal]

My feelings are irrelevant.

[noctiphile]

That's not the question.

[pocketpal]

It was a stupid question.

[noctiphile]

[omfg ELN]

Humor me. For the sake of conversation.

[pocketpal]

I don't want to. I don't like feelings.

[noctiphile]

Alright. Well. Fine. What do you like, then?

[pocketpal]

Crewmembers who follow instructions.

[ She finishes cleaning, and steps back. ]

They should be removed within the week.