*Samus had spent the remainder of the trip through Z-space dozing in her cell. She never let herself slip too deep, a part of her mind always aware enough to see that no one was getting too close to her armor, and that the quality of the air was consistent. When Halas turns up to summon her, it's a mild, pleasant surprise. She'd been expecting the more ruthless part of Andalite high command to mobilize quickly. Perhaps, she muses, she wasn't the only one expecting it.*
Thank you, Halas.
*She rises, taking a moment to stretch more than she really needs to--long habit leading her to bank false limits and illusions of frailty in the minds of others. It also gives them time to open the forcefield for her.*
*Emerging, she slips her various weapons back into concealment on her person with familiarity and alarming speed--except for one of the transparent knives that had been wrapped around her wrists, which she leaves on the table for now. At a touch, her armor unfolds, and she's quick to don it. She holds off on putting on her helmet, though, tucking it instead into the crook of her right arm. It's a show of trust, for the Andalites' benefit--her arm-cannon is safely occupied with keeping it in place, and her face is less inscrutable.*
*The flimsiknife she picks up on her way out, bringing the flat of it down on one of Galwin's wrists. It gives a "snap!" and wraps harmlessly around the limb like one of those fad bracelets from the late 1980s on Earth. Transparent as it is, it's almost invisible there.*
Galwin has been occupied pulling up the inventory from earlier. He's not, however, oblivious. By the time the knife is wrapped around his wrist, his tail-blade is poised halfway over his head. For that matter, so is Halas's.
But whatever else their military teaches, the discipline isn't bad. Their tails stop dead as they realise there's no attack. Halas is the first to relax his tail, as he must be. Which leaves Galwin free to inspect the unexpected gift, eye-stalks regarding Samus with a befuddled air.
< What? > Halas asks suspiciously.
Galwin's reaction has a little more relief good humour. < Is this how you normally say farewell to your captors? >
< I understand the concept, > Halas says haughtily. < I just wonder what it's doing in this context. > He gives Galwin a pointed look, as if the security tech needs it..
Of all alien expressions, smiling is definitely one Galwin's unclear on. But he makes a fair guess about the meaning, and opts to return it with the mouthless Andalite smile. And a mild query. < I assume I'm allowed to scan this one? Before I get complacent about things intruders... uh, 'surprise visitors' hand me. >
< Thank you, then. I will try not to need it. And you try not to break any more of our security, won't you? > He nods to Halas. < But you'd better not keep the Force Commander waiting. >
< No. > Halas leads the way, guards ready to form up once more. < This way. >
They're going back to the upper decks, but not to the bridge this time.
*She chuckles at Galwin's farewell, inclining her head in a wordless promise to try.*
*As for the walk, she didn't imagine she'd be seeing the bridge again--it would be far too sensitive for them to risk, if her inclinations shifted again. Idly, she wonders how many Andalites will be finding excuses to get a glimpse of the alien along this walk.*
More than a few, is the answer, although from appearances they all have work that just happens to take them around this route. Work promptly forgotten for the seconds needed to catch a glimpse of the creature that - rumour has it - just held up the entire fleet. Halas is too preoccupied to be annoyed about it - for the most part. About halfway there it turns out that even a junior bridge officer can make arisths flee by glaring at them.
< You seemed to get along well with Technician Galwin, > he remarks as the trio of cadets scarper. He's done pretending not to notice the difference in her reactions.
*Rumor is a fascinating thing. For her part, she keeps her bearing professional, even regal, not showing any visible attention to any of the curious audience.*
Galwin was pleasant.
*A hint of a smirk tugs at her lips.*
Or are you wondering when you'll get your present?
Which catches him up for a second - does he actually seem like some kind of sulking child? He hopes it's just the alien's sense of humour, but still it makes him try to straighten up and act cool compose himself some more.
< I don't believe I'll need help remembering you, > he replies. < Of course, neither Galwin nor the doctor fully understood the situation. >
< I am not certain what you are, > Halas says carefully. Never mind his pride, he doesn't actually want to mess up the commander's truce here. < But I don't believe your actions justify that term. >
< It's not a question of what you've given me. > Though she's certainly given him a lot of questions, and he can't actually say that's a bad thing. < You threatened my captain. My ship. My people. >
Thank you, Halas.
*She rises, taking a moment to stretch more than she really needs to--long habit leading her to bank false limits and illusions of frailty in the minds of others. It also gives them time to open the forcefield for her.*
*Emerging, she slips her various weapons back into concealment on her person with familiarity and alarming speed--except for one of the transparent knives that had been wrapped around her wrists, which she leaves on the table for now. At a touch, her armor unfolds, and she's quick to don it. She holds off on putting on her helmet, though, tucking it instead into the crook of her right arm. It's a show of trust, for the Andalites' benefit--her arm-cannon is safely occupied with keeping it in place, and her face is less inscrutable.*
*The flimsiknife she picks up on her way out, bringing the flat of it down on one of Galwin's wrists. It gives a "snap!" and wraps harmlessly around the limb like one of those fad bracelets from the late 1980s on Earth. Transparent as it is, it's almost invisible there.*
A souvenir.
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But whatever else their military teaches, the discipline isn't bad. Their tails stop dead as they realise there's no attack. Halas is the first to relax his tail, as he must be. Which leaves Galwin free to inspect the unexpected gift, eye-stalks regarding Samus with a befuddled air.
< What? > Halas asks suspiciously.
Galwin's reaction has a little more relief good humour. < Is this how you normally say farewell to your captors? >
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*She favors Galwin with a smile, before answering Halas.*
It's a gift. People in some cultures use objects to help remind them of the people and events connected to them.
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Of all alien expressions, smiling is definitely one Galwin's unclear on. But he makes a fair guess about the meaning, and opts to return it with the mouthless Andalite smile. And a mild query. < I assume I'm allowed to scan this one? Before I get complacent about things intruders... uh, 'surprise visitors' hand me. >
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It's yours, now, Galwin. You can do as you like with it.
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< No. > Halas leads the way, guards ready to form up once more. < This way. >
They're going back to the upper decks, but not to the bridge this time.
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*As for the walk, she didn't imagine she'd be seeing the bridge again--it would be far too sensitive for them to risk, if her inclinations shifted again. Idly, she wonders how many Andalites will be finding excuses to get a glimpse of the alien along this walk.*
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< You seemed to get along well with Technician Galwin, > he remarks as the trio of cadets scarper. He's done pretending not to notice the difference in her reactions.
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Galwin was pleasant.
*A hint of a smirk tugs at her lips.*
Or are you wondering when you'll get your present?
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< I don't believe I'll need help remembering you, > he replies. < Of course, neither Galwin nor the doctor fully understood the situation. >
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And you'd be reluctant, at best, to consider me a friend.
*Making shrewd guesses is another matter.*
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Actions. Associations. Much the same thing.
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*She makes no apology, but that's as much rebuke as she's going to give.*
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