Icarus (Sci-fi/Time-travel|IC|Open)

[Europa Undivided]

Leona Helstrom

Either Marcus was completely oblivious to what was happening before he entered, or he was too preoccupied to care, but he situated himself right between Ted and Leona on the couch.

Leona had taken a bag of potato chips out of several neatly arranged on the center table in front of the sofa that they were sitting on when Marcus had come in so suddenly. Quietly, she tore open the plastic bag before picking out a chip, plopping it into her mouth as she began to chew on one fried potato slice coated with cheddar cheese after another. It had been a while she even had a sense of taste, having died as a very old woman that couldn't even move off her bed.

At the very least, Ted has good company, even if they had just met literally less than an hour ago. Well, no sweat; there had been more esoteric relationships and friendships in the past and future. This was completely normal-

Breathing heavily and beginning to sweat, Marcus was evidently having a rough time even giving a basic synopsis to Ted and Leona, "They killed my wife and son, dammit! Now here I am, stuck on this piece of shit ship. I get to live huh? Why can they bring me back and not my family?! I failed to protect them and for some reason I'M the one who gets brought back?!"

Leona kept quiet throughout the whole tirade, aside from the slight sound of the crunching of potato chips. Marcus was another one that came from that horrible timeline where the Ragons devoured the majority of the human race, perhaps they looked so alike to the Dhasaths, who were said to be the most delicious sapients to exist. Everyone that were left alive in the dark timeline would have probably lost someone to the jaws of death, as with the case of Marcus, who had lost his family.

And he hated that he was the one that was brought back. Survivor's guilt in all of its glory.

"I, uh, I'm sorry I made you guys look at that. That was highly unprofessional."

"Don't worry about it." Leona took in another chip. "I think half of everyone in here has a terrible story to tell. Especially the ones that come from the dark, original timeline." At that one, she looked at Ted with a cursory glance, as he too was from that horrific time. "Compared to you lot, I have a boring story. One thing, though."

Taking in yet another chip, "This ship is by no means a terrible one. It has time travel, remember?" Leona tried to show Marcus the silver lining... though it might not be enough. "As for being chosen... it's a real bummer that we can't ask the ones that did. It could it be that we have the skillsets needed to save the timeline from a rogue time traveller, perhaps."

Leona sighed. "You guys like chips? It's mostly cheese flavored."

[Alcona and Hubris]

Horsing Around Thessaly
Cowritten by Alcona & Hubris, Sarderia, Arengin Union, and Demencia

William trotted up the small rise and lowered himself to one knee as the others followed. He hoped that the shadows of bushes and trees behind him would cover his profile out against the night sky. Straining, he realizes he can not hear the darkie sobbing back in the trees..."Good, at least we're far enough away so that mad man doesn't give us away. " He turns and looks back at the rest of the actual party with them. "I don't think we have the numbers to overwhelm them...so sneeking into their stables and making away with some mounts seems the best approach..."

"That seems to be the most appropriate way to handle it..." Sir Isaac broke the cold silence that he had kept ever since the group had arrived to this land. Once more he wasn't sure what to make of things as they had happened, everything kept surprising and more variables entered his mind, regardless he planned to continue on observing and learning and aiding the group on this quest.

"We must mark this place in order to return their animals, lest we break the Lord's holy commandments." The Templar added.

William replied to the Templar, " I assume we have the map coordinates of this place...I know we had extensive maps of this area when I traveled through here two years ago...well in 68' , I assume another couple of centuries of has improved the maps around here."

Listening to William's statement, John felt confused - did he not think about the situation present? "I would be excited to see how creeping into a stable full of horses, which have never seen us, rather regarding us as foreign, and afterwards trying to mount them bareback is going to turn well. Especially with a myriad of Greek farmers, and perhaps soldiers, roaming around us."

"I can take one, or perhaps several," he continued. "But it would be a messy affair. Not only for myself; you would encounter the same problem, even if you're adept on riding bareback. A volunteer among us is needed to distract them."

William chuckled at John's statement, it is the wry chuckle of a man both frustrated and understanding others frustration, "Well I concur that trying to ride out a bunch of horses from their stable bareback would be a bad idea. That's why I have these lassos around my shoulder to use lead them out...I don't know how tack has changed in the last two thousand years and trying to learn while borrowing them seemed like a poor idea...I have sugar cubes in my pockets to help sweeten our dates' temperament to us."

William sighed slightly, "I'm trying to figure out how to do this with very little preparation. I was focused on my patients, until I discovered that there are very few of us with any real horse sense. So I joined this mission, but couldn't find much organization when I inquired.... I just grabbed what popped into my head we could use. " William tapped the bundle of items in his hand, though completely invisible to his fellows, it contained some odd and end tools he had found in one storage locker wrapped with a small towel into impromptu thieves tools.

William stated with warmth in his voice "So sir, if you think a distraction would be a good addition to the plan, please tell me. Though at the moment a distraction that does not have them running to protect their horses escapes me at the moment." William paused and then continued on a different train of thought "And besides not killing people while doing the Lord's work, we should avoid causing more problems for ourselves...Alexander the Great's real father may be out there...or some other such unseen torpedo..."

Miriam adjusted the helmet on her head. "Hopefully they-" she paused a moment. It felt strange to not be speaking German... It felt.... wrong. "Hopefully they are fooled by this military disguise long enough. I don't know much about Greece, but if a knight were to request the usage of a peasant's animal in the Palatinate, they would be obligated to provide."

She wondered how one might react to her eye. In her time, she found that commoners would look away from her faster than they would most nobles in order to avoid looking at the eyepatch. If that held true in this ancient time, maybe it could also draw attention away from the group.

William looked over at Miriam. "I'm afraid that plan has a few issues that come to mind....mostly I recall from my history lessons that one, this is not feudal society...though it has Kings...and it doesn't have knights....the whole Equine class is a Roman invention...If we're wrong on their duty to their king and his military....you could very well wind up getting asked to pay for the mounts...And I doubt anyone of rank would be showing up on foot in the midnight darkness to go demand a group of mounts and then ride off into the darkness..." William stops for a moment and then continues, "How would you deal with a group of a French knights' peasants? If ordered not to slay them by your liege lord for some reason?"

"I wouldn't know how," John said. "Once I would have silenced them with pieces of copper... sliver, even. It is an universal language; it has always worked, for peasants and barbarians alike, throughout my voyages. But that was another time, another life." He pondered for a moment. Killing them is out of the question - the potential of irreparably changing history very much deterred the group from erasing someone. Silencing someone, though...

"Perchance, we have a blunt equipment, so these peasants could be rendered unconscious? They would have no memory of what happened... the horses gone in an instant. Or if you would rather prefer to distract them... or do both."

Miriam leaned against the tree. "Simple. Make sure they know that their situation has changed. No sense in killing them when they could still be useful in the fields. A bit of force applied properly can do wonders for enforcing compliance." She winced a little feeling the bark of the tree through the thin cloth she wore under the breastplate. Some plate armor would make her feel more comfortable right about now. "I doubt any of those methods are going to work, it'd draw a lot of attention to us when we're supposed to be incognito."

William looked at the group. "Well, perhaps we should send in someone to just take out the sentry, and then watch over the rest as they sleep? I am fairly experienced at handling horses as I assume you two knights are as well..." William focused on the mariner John who, to be honest, William was a bit less sure of in the horse wrangling department. In his own experience few mariners were well experienced with horses to much degree.

"...John if you and one of the knights were to send the sentry to sleep and make sure the rest don't wake while the remainder of us go get some horses...then we make a steady, walking retreat...sound like a decent plan?"

"A lot of people can club a man in the back, but not a lot of people can ride a horse bareback," John answered, "and I am rather fortunate to have experienced the latter. They rarely used stirrups in the Indies... and I have often worked with such horses. Perhaps it is better for the knights to silence the sentries," he looked at Miriam and Isaac. "You are honorable... people." He felt rather uneasy when he saw Miriam - there were few women crewmembers aboard the Company vessels, much less women knights. "Make sure they're sleeping... not dead, of course."

William sighed inwardly, attempting to ride out of here seemed like a bad idea to him, but arguing it futher seemed like an even worse idea. Especially as one of the torch light bears seemed to now be moving in a circle back in their direction. "Alright we need to get moving before one of them sees us..." He points out the building nearby dimly lit by the dying fire light. "I am heading over there to purloin the required equine flesh...John you are with me I suppose..."

John studied the distant building for a moment. "I remember you mentioned that you brought some... condiments, to calm down our mounts. It would be better if you'd share some with me. The faster we're done here... the better," he said. "Madame and Sir," he turned to the knights, "You can watch over us, and take care of the sentries. Let's get going..."

William handed over two small bags, the feel of the small hard cubes could be made out "Here you go...I have two bags myself..."

---

The stable, if it could be called so - it was a damp, run-down building of thatched roof and simple mortar construction, and he would rather call this some sort of feeding station back in his time - was rather adequate; not too large nor too small, perhaps suited to the needs of a rural, Ancient Greek farm. Wooden fences separate the horses, a dozen or so of them - he did not count, because it was pitch black at night and the firelight was minimal, only a couple of torches here and there. Several are tied with rough hemp reins, with their martingales attached to a block of wood in the middle of the enclosure. Rudimentary, he thought. The Dutch East India Company were so rich that their horses were housed in pavillions of decorated Javanese teak, and their reins were fitten with golden aglets - this, in comparison, was dirt.

William looked at the building and though of crofters back in the Highlands. Typical poor farmers who were going to be devastated by the loss of all of this horse flesh. He studied the building more as they approached, so he didn't notice that some of the horses were wearing their tack at the moment. And they were small. Apparently these were less horses and more ponies as far as William was concerned.

Several horses were not attached with any device, and left to wander in their enclosures. The others, which wore martingales, stayed put.

"Why are they wearing tack right now?" He states before John interrupts.

"Quickly," John said to William. "The condiments... sugar cubes, was it? We need to calm the beasts down."

"Stay calm man," William whisped urgently "If you are calm it is a mighty deal easier for all..."

William moved over onto the paddock fence and begins to click his tongue. He watched the horses move around as he calmly began to coax one of the loose beasts over to him. The whole group settled down slightly as the threat seems to be friendly. William held out some sugar cubes, lifting them up to let the sent entice the beasts....the horse began to show intrest in the cubes. William handed them over and began to gently pet the horse's muzzle. The rest of the beasts began to calm down even more, seeing that the human apparently really isn't a threat, but a source of goodies.

William moved his shoulder to drop one of the lassos into his hand, a move practices in the past when dealing with some of the new Arabian horses recently let out to pasture back home. With the one hand he lifted it over the horse's head and let the loop down over the creature's neck. The beast reacted to the new sensation and began to back away concerned. William just let the line play out a little while calmly stating "Your fine...your alright...just a rope...take you for a nice little jaunt down to Thebes..."

William pulled on the lasso, letting the loop close gently on his first conquest; tying it to the rail of the paddock. "Now then, we need to calmly get this other one..." A few moments later another loose horse, who had pushed next to his fellow to get at the sugar cubes, was lassoed and tied to the rail.

William turned to John. "Now that we've got the loose ones at least calmed down lets get the ones there in the middle of the paddock." He looked over at the group and shakes his head "Although why they are tied up like that?" he asks out loud.

William dropped down into the paddock and moved silently towards the the horses tied to the block of wood in the middle of the enclosure. As he moved towards them, a door on the rough building sung open. William stopped and stood in there disbeleif as a small figure emerged from the door. William ran forward and slammed the door into the figure, knocking them backwards into the mud of the paddock.

The violence starled the horses again. But William continued to move forward, focusing on the sudden threat. As he approached the figure, it moves suddenly and with rapid speed. William suddenly found that his legs had been taken out from under him and he was now down in the mud; the figure jumping onto of him. William grabbed hold of the fellows wrists as the glint of a long knife in the distant firelight drew his attention.

In the black of night, John nearly missed William being taken down by the man - that is, until the sound of muffled breathing alerted him. The two silhouettes, of which the one that was struggling to break free John know was William's, were wrestling in the middle of the paddock. He did not saw any sharp objects, but he knew there would be one. "Klootzak!" he cursed, directed to both William and the other figure. He leapt into the paddock and immediately grabbed the other man's neck from the back, freeing William from his lock. That was when he noticed the man brought a knife. "Disarm him," he half-shouted.

William rose as the man was pulled off of him. He stepped forward and grabbed the wrist carrying the weapon. William twists the wrist into an odd angle, making the hand loose its grip on the blade.

His hands locking the man's neck, John pressed him against his torso to suffocate the man. The horses' owner - John thought - exhaled desperate gasps of breath. A few seconds of wrestling; the man was limp, and John placed him, silently, on a corner - throwing several bales of grass and hay, scattered around the paddock, to cover him up. "He's not dead," John said, both to himself and William. "I think. He's unconscious."

"Thank You" William stated dryly as John suffocates the man. He turned to look at the horse near him and began to calm her, moving towards the block in the center of the paddock. "If he is dead, there isn't much I can do for him and if he blacked out there isn't much I can do for him...." William stated with a wry lit to his voice, the scottish accent even more pronounced now. He continued to pet one of the horses tied to the block.

But above all, John was upset. "What are those two knights up to? One slipped behind their watch... God forbid, an army of farmers and horse-handlers would follow suit." Knights, he scoffed. Those kind were so noble and bound by chivalry to harm peasants. That was why he would always trust hired men and sailors more than knights. "Alas... we need to calm the horses again, double the work. I hope you still have some of the cubes.."

"I think he wasn't with the others which is why they missed him." William pointed to the door of the low, stone building that still sung open in the light wind. He continued on, "As for the horses, you try your luck calming with the two we've got tied down...with the supply of cubes I handed over to you and I'll work on getting these rounded up. William returned to talking soothing nonesene to the beast in front of him.

"Fair," John answered. "Leaving the knife on the ground... at least it would create whatever little good impression he would have on us. If he wakes up," John continued. For all the talk about not killing people and how it would change world history, he felt such cases would be necessary in situations like this - and that it would be, at most, a minor disturbance on time.

William nodded at the knife statement, more focused on the mare he his trying to win over than the weapon in the mud.

John clicked his fingers repeatedly, and moves it around, letting the horse's eyes follow his hand. A moment after, John produces several sugar cubes from his other hand, lamenting inwardly about how the linothorax has no pockets. The cubes had a smell; the horse was quite attracted to it. John feds a piece using the palm of his hand. His other hand gently running through the beast's mane and back - continuing the gesture for several minutes. Three pieces of sugar cubes was apparently sufficient to win their trust - so when John unties the leash from the wooden block, and holds the halter. Slowly, he led the horse outside the paddock - tying the leash into the paddock's fence once the horse is outside. He sighed silently. "One captured... several to go."

William focused on the mare before him. For some reason it kept on backing off, but finally William convinces it to lower its head to take in some sugar. Allowing him to loop his second to last lasso over its neck. He tightens it and then begins to lead it back out of the paddock gate. "Alright girl...see...your just going to go for a little ride down to...Thebes...I wonder if we are going to get stuck looking at statues all day like the last time I was there..." He led their newest recruit to the paddock rail and tied the rope to the fence; increasing their heard to four.

---

***Thirty Minutes Later****

William continued to work, as well as John, rounding up another set of 'recruits' before discovering they had a new issue. She was a short, stout black mare and she was having none of them. She stood in her part of the paddock like some short Nubian queen, just staring at William and John.

William stared back, but she didn't seem to react to that technique either. The mare just threw her head aside in answer to his attempts, and the sugar did nothing to entice her.

"I think this well has run dry Sir...This one would be trouble if we even tried to take her with us. I think it's time to pull out with our new shipmates...and leave this one to her own devices." William stated to John as he turned on turned on his heel to gather up their purloined horse flesh.

---

Forty minutes later

As the party returned to the Icarus, William was thankful; Well we got out of this with our skins and not too much damage. The horses had proven to be...unwieldily....and an unhappy horse is a damn nuisance to ride bareback. Wish we had Ellie from back home. William pondered his own history with horses, letting the others move through the line of trees and into the Icarus.

Of course I grew up with Ellie, and Ellie had grew up with me....truthfully she was my first true love.

William looked down at his current mount, "Your name is either Beelzebub or lazy bones...I can't make up my mind and neither can you huh?" He stated down to the horse. William hoped that a few more hours with the creatures would make riders and mounts a better teams; supporting their claims of being warriors from Crimea.

As William is the last of the party, he starts to finally move through a thicket of trees screening the Icarus. As he does so he hears a noise from behind. Turning he looked into the darkness wondering did that Negro who wandered out here and start crying get lost in the bloody countryside like some poor Cheapside wretch? As William gazed into the darkness, a man and horse suddenly storm out of some nearby trees hell bent strait for them.

"You Barbarian Dogs! Thieving my horses! Die you pig sex bastards!" the man screamed out. He was aiming his mount to make a charging pass of William and the rest of the party strait into the bay of the Icarus. In the dim light, William realizes that the charging man has apparently that same nasty kind of knife, and it is now leveled right at William's throat.

William pulls his current mount reigns, causing the small horse to shift sideways; blocking the attacker's charge, As William leans backwards and out of range of the thrusting knife. The maneuver forced the charging greek to either break off the charge, stop, or slam into William's mount.

The attacker reigned in his mount, turning it parallel to William. The greek wildly thrusted his long knife at William's torso, frustrated at the other man's handling of his horse. "Bastard" the man shouts making a swiping cut at William.

"Damn it...." the Englishman yelled, thrusting his own roll of tools back at the man; trying to knock the Greek off his mount.

The attacker took the hit but was unfazed, continuing his attack. Again slashing with the knife trying to cut William down.

William growled as the man's blade cuts across his own forearm. William responded with a massively strong thrust almost throwing himself off his horse. The roll of tools slammed into the greek with even more force. This time the man's eyes went wide as he screamed in pain; toppling off his mount.

The Greek's horse, scared by the sounds and the sudden smell of blood bolts off into the darkness; the sounds of hooves hitting flesh made out under it's frightened whiney.

William looked down at the prone figure and pulled back his tool roll. The long sharp iron bill hook he had taken for cutting inconvenient ropes had pushed through its protective covering and was now covered in blood. He sighed and dismounted the horse turning to the rest of the group. "I need some help to get this man into the med bay to prevent him bleeding to death." He shouted over his shoulder to the rest of the party.

[Voxija]

Albert Daza

Outside

Albert wasn't a complete idiot. After he had a good cry leaning on the tree, he stuck near the ship, because he might have got lost otherwise. Albert thought about how one of the horse thieves spoke Afrikaans, but more refined. Albert didn't know Afrikaans, be he could recognize the sound of it.

"You Barbarian Dogs! Thieving my horses! Die you pig sex bastards!" the man screamed out. He was aiming his mount to make a charging pass of William and the rest of the party strait into the bay of the Icarus. In the dim light, William realizes that the charging man has apparently that same nasty kind of knife, and it is now leveled right at William's throat.

William pulls his current mount reigns, causing the small horse to shift sideways; blocking the attacker's charge, As William leans backwards and out of range of the thrusting knife. The maneuver forced the charging greek to either break off the charge, stop, or slam into William's mount.

The attacker reigned in his mount, turning it parallel to William. The greek wildly thrusted his long knife at William's torso, frustrated at the other man's handling of his horse. "Bastard" the man shouts making a swiping cut at William.

"Damn it...." the Englishman yelled, thrusting his own roll of tools back at the man; trying to knock the Greek off his mount.

The attacker took the hit but was unfazed, continuing his attack. Again slashing with the knife trying to cut William down.

William growled as the man's blade cuts across his own forearm. William responded with a massively strong thrust almost throwing himself off his horse. The roll of tools slammed into the greek with even more force. This time the man's eyes went wide as he screamed in pain; toppling off his mount.

The Greek's horse, scared by the sounds and the sudden smell of blood bolts off into the darkness; the sounds of hooves hitting flesh made out under it's frightened whiney.

William looked down at the prone figure and pulled back his tool roll. The long sharp iron bill hook he had taken for cutting inconvenient ropes had pushed through its protective covering and was now covered in blood. He sighed and dismounted the horse turning to the rest of the group. "I need some help to get this man into the med bay to prevent him bleeding to death." He shouted over his shoulder to the rest of the party.

Albert was about to doze off when he heard a man scream angry epithets in... Greek? The horse owner had caught the thieves. The Greek man fought with the horse thieves, and it was such a fight that it continued onto the ship. Albert followed silently, with a kind of macabre fascination. He wanted to see what happened, like anyone would.

And then—the Greek horseman went unconscious. What happened, Albert didn't know. It was all too fast. But one of the raiding party, Albert didn't know what his name was, but not the one speaking Afrikaans, asked for help to get the unconscious man to the medical bay.

Albert Daza walked over to the men and one lady. Although he was not a doctor, he thought he knew where med bay was, and he wanted to be helpful. "I can help. I'll help you get him to med bay."

[Sarderia]

Johannes de Spielman

---

When the Greek fell off his horse, he dismounted immediately. John's own horse and the other four behind him were already shrieking and moving around, showing their obvious unease with the presence of a limp, bleeding man right next to them. Icarus was just a few metres ahead. He glimpsed at the horses again. Putting the man on the back of a horse is out of the question - not only the man was their owner, which perhaps would make him felt familiar, though John doubted it - he was also bleeding severely because of the hook that William thrusted to him. John crouched and inspected the man's wounds. It was horrible; a grotesque scar on his chest, a rough curve in form. The device tore through his skin, although John wasn't sure of how deep it was, as he cannot see properly on the dark of night. He did, however, saw glimpses of reddish-white amidst the pouring blood; which was greatly worrying, since it could have penetrated the muscles...

"He's hemorrhaging severely. We can't put him on the horses, lest they panic and run away - he would've fell and got trampled, worse, we could." But then there would be nobody to guide the horses. "William," he said to the doctor, "Ride that horse into the bay... we will carry the Greek." He turned at the black man. "You, Neger! Help me with this man. We'll hold his back and thigh together." He squatted near the injured man, hands slowly sliding to his back - performing a two-handed seat carry.

[UniversalCommons]

Adam Richardson continued putting in the light sticks. He hummed to himself to the strange electronic music. He pushed his cart to the next location. Some of the auxiliary power units had not been turned on for a long time. It was a matter of flipping several switches. For a brief while, there was a loud humming then it stopped. He could feel a slight vibration in his feet. The gravity felt a tiny bit stronger. There was a large sphere next to the switches with a picture of a red sun on it. The word Hephaestus Systems was below the red sun.

Some of the red maintenance pictures were on the outside of the ship. He would have to learn how to use a space suit. He went back to the engineering section to take a nap.

[Kartofluland]

Valdis Kjotvidottir

As light came flooding back into Valdis's eyes she vaguely wondered why it had to be her that Loki had decided to play a trick on, the humming of engines and the metallic walls around her reminded her that action had to be taken in such situations and inaction may lead to her demise. The woman pulled herself up from the metal pod and had begun scanning her surroundings before giving only a slight amount of attention to the strange and almost alien garb she was currently adorned in. She stood, scanning her surroundings again but succumbs to the mystery of her situation. "Týr protect me."
As she stood there taking everything in she realized she heard more than that constant droning, a distant conversation, the language at first hearing she could not understand, though feeling as if she had heard it before. Valdis takes careful steps closer, instinctively reaching to her waist and grabbing for one of her missing weapons. Wrath creeps over her face for a moment as she silently curses this but she continues on to the noise, it being the best bet to explain this situation.

As she neared the room she the voices had been emanating from she stops, and tries to listen but she is unsure that to make an offer for something called 'cheese chips'. Valdis steels herself, ready to fight or take flight if the group means to do harm, though now remembering she is disarmed, she already knows which of those options is truly a wise one. The woman steps through the door into the room and looks around, though with only one foot in the door, and clears her throat. "I do not mean to interrupt but this feels not like Valhǫll and there are too few cats for this to be Sessrúmnir, do any of you know where we are... Or at least what has been done to be denied my seat in the corpse hall?" *Her body language remains tense, ready to run if they lunge for her but she speaks calmly, her eyes peering into the room twice over as she starts to see her odds of winning any fight against them drop sharply.

[Voxija]

Albert Daza

Johannes de Spielman

---

When the Greek fell off his horse, he dismounted immediately. John's own horse and the other four behind him were already shrieking and moving around, showing their obvious unease with the presence of a limp, bleeding man right next to them. Icarus was just a few metres ahead. He glimpsed at the horses again. Putting the man on the back of a horse is out of the question - not only the man was their owner, which perhaps would make him felt familiar, though John doubted it - he was also bleeding severely because of the hook that William thrusted to him. John crouched and inspected the man's wounds. It was horrible; a grotesque scar on his chest, a rough curve in form. The device tore through his skin, although John wasn't sure of how deep it was, as he cannot see properly on the dark of night. He did, however, saw glimpses of reddish-white amidst the pouring blood; which was greatly worrying, since it could have penetrated the muscles...

"He's hemorrhaging severely. We can't put him on the horses, lest they panic and run away - he would've fell and got trampled, worse, we could." But then there would be nobody to guide the horses. "William," he said to the doctor, "Ride that horse into the bay... we will carry the Greek." He turned at the black man. "You, Neger! Help me with this man. We'll hold his back and thigh together." He squatted near the injured man, hands slowly sliding to his back - performing a two-handed seat carry.

Albert didn't know what "Neger" was, probably something insulting, but if someone was asking him for help, especially someone who seemed to be speaking Afrikaans, that was a good sign. Albert supported the poor bleeding man's thigh and lower back, trying not to look at it. Albert wasn't that squeamish, but he still didn't like the sight of blood.

Albert almost lifted the injured Greek man up and over where he was supposed to be. It was strange. Albert had underestimated his own strength, because he still carried himself like a middle-aged man weakened from years on Robben Island, rather than the 25-year-old the pods had turned him into. Albert stabilized his grip, hoping that this wouldn't ruin his standing among the other crew members. They were probably all from time periods when people were racist. He needed all the help he could get.

[The African Emirates]

Ted Jackson

…
"Thanks." was all Marcus said in reply to Ted's granting of permission to sit on the couch.

Sitting down, Marcus let himself fall onto the middle section of the couch. He tried to force a smile, but couldn't, not in light of the "recent" events of his life, so the depressed look on his face stayed.

Acknowledging Ted's inquiry, Marcus figured he may as well tell someone, because at least then some of it might lift itself from his chest. "Yeah, I guess I'm fine with telling y'all. I was born on May 7th of 2099. I was a fighter pilot, I lived and breathed combat spaceflight. It was in the military that I found my wife-to-be, and after we got married we had a kid. I died on August 20th of 2128. Th-those... those fucking space lizards! They shot me down! But that's nothing in comparison to what else was stolen from me!"

Breathing heavily and beginning to sweat, Marcus was evidently having a rough time even giving a basic synopsis to Ted and Leona, "They killed my wife and son, dammit! Now here I am, stuck on this piece of shit ship. I get to live huh? Why can they bring me back and not my family?! I failed to protect them and for some reason I'M the one who gets brought back?!"

Sure, being this emotional likely wasn't a very good first impression, and Marcus was barely managing to hold back tears, but the mind of a traumatized soldier was a mind that the soldier in question oftentimes could find themselves having no control over. In an attempt to remove any aura of perceived weakness, Marcus' expression turned from depression to extreme anger, anger at the fact that everything he knew was now gone, that nobody on the Icarus had any respect for him (even if that was from his own doing), and at his own perceived failure to live up to his stated duty as a member of the US Armed Forces.

"I, uh, I'm sorry I made you guys look at that. That was highly unprofessional."

However, Marcus' words didn't represent the sweaty, heavily breathing mess he was as of now.

“Hey, no worries. We’re all under a lot of duress here, and I don’t blame you for feeling like this.”

Ted tried to give Marcus a reassuring look, well at least as reassuring as he could seem with the remnants of tears still in his eyes.

Phoenix

Johnny Reb's defense of the indefensible was the last straw for Phoenix. She knew that if she stayed in his vicinity any longer, she would be unable to resist the urge to outright deck him. She also knew that he was also one of the few people on board capable of managing a horse in this time period without anachronistic technology. So she wordlessly walked away. Wandering down the corridors, she happened upon the rec room, and heard Marcus's story.
...
"Sorry to intrude, but I was walking by and couldn't help but overhear. I'm sorry that happened to you." Phe said. Part of her felt a twinge of regret that the Defiance crew hadn't been able to avert conflict with the Ragon after their return home. "And its perfectly ok to feel and express those emotions. I imagine everyone whose death was traumatic is going through something similar. Especially those of us who died to protect Earth."

She had begun to suspect her initial impression of him was a bit uncharitable. Sure, he had come across as cocky, arrogant, and a host of other adjectives, but hurt people sometimes hurt people. At least, that's what her therapist said once, a lifetime ago.

The guy who had seemed to dislike Marcus seemed to have calmed down as well. Ted hoped that was the case for everyone, especially the drunk confederate he had seen on his way to the bridge.

“Yeah, almost all of us died in some sort of violent manner, so we probably have some degree of trauma.” Ted wasn’t a doctor, but maybe the ship’s A.I could help with that. Maybe later.

Leona Helstrom

Either Marcus was completely oblivious to what was happening before he entered, or he was too preoccupied to care, but he situated himself right between Ted and Leona on the couch.

Leona had taken a bag of potato chips out of several neatly arranged on the center table in front of the sofa that they were sitting on when Marcus had come in so suddenly. Quietly, she tore open the plastic bag before picking out a chip, plopping it into her mouth as she began to chew on one fried potato slice coated with cheddar cheese after another. It had been a while she even had a sense of taste, having died as a very old woman that couldn't even move off her bed.

At the very least, Ted has good company, even if they had just met literally less than an hour ago. Well, no sweat; there had been more esoteric relationships and friendships in the past and future. This was completely normal-

Breathing heavily and beginning to sweat, Marcus was evidently having a rough time even giving a basic synopsis to Ted and Leona, "They killed my wife and son, dammit! Now here I am, stuck on this piece of shit ship. I get to live huh? Why can they bring me back and not my family?! I failed to protect them and for some reason I'M the one who gets brought back?!"

Leona kept quiet throughout the whole tirade, aside from the slight sound of the crunching of potato chips. Marcus was another one that came from that horrible timeline where the Ragons devoured the majority of the human race, perhaps they looked so alike to the Dhasaths, who were said to be the most delicious sapients to exist. Everyone that were left alive in the dark timeline would have probably lost someone to the jaws of death, as with the case of Marcus, who had lost his family.

And he hated that he was the one that was brought back. Survivor's guilt in all of its glory.

"I, uh, I'm sorry I made you guys look at that. That was highly unprofessional."

"Don't worry about it." Leona took in another chip. "I think half of everyone in here has a terrible story to tell. Especially the ones that come from the dark, original timeline." At that one, she looked at Ted with a cursory glance, as he too was from that horrific time. "Compared to you lot, I have a boring story. One thing, though."

Taking in yet another chip, "This ship is by no means a terrible one. It has time travel, remember?" Leona tried to show Marcus the silver lining... though it might not be enough. "As for being chosen... it's a real bummer that we can't ask the ones that did. It could it be that we have the skillsets needed to save the timeline from a rogue time traveller, perhaps."

Leona sighed. "You guys like chips? It's mostly cheese flavored."

Noticing Leona reaching for the bag of chips, Ted’s eyes lit up.

“Wow, there’s chips? You guys don’t even know how long I’ve gone without those.”

He grabbed a bag of salt and vinegar chips and started snacking on them, but not before seeing Leona’s choice of flavor.

“Cheddar flavored chips, what blasphemy.” Ted jokingly said under his breath between chips.

Ted then focused on what Leona was saying about the timeship they were on (and that he was supposed to investigate, oops).

“Yeah, maybe we were put here for a reason. That’s some comfort, at least. I didn’t die immediately after the Ragon attack, I worked in a settlement in the Appalachians for 12 years, sadly chip-less.”

Just then, yet another person entered the room, another scandinavian-seeming person but this time a woman. Ted really hoped she wouldn’t start screaming.

Valdis Kjotvidottir
As light came flooding back into Valdis's eyes she vaguely wondered why it had to be her that Loki had decided to play a trick on, the humming of engines and the metallic walls around her reminded her that action had to be taken in such situations and inaction may lead to her demise. The woman pulled herself up from the metal pod and had begun scanning her surroundings before giving only a slight amount of attention to the strange and almost alien garb she was currently adorned in. She stood, scanning her surroundings again but succumbs to the mystery of her situation. "Týr protect me."
As she stood there taking everything in she realized she heard more than that constant droning, a distant conversation, the language at first hearing she could not understand, though feeling as if she had heard it before. Valdis takes careful steps closer, instinctively reaching to her waist and grabbing for one of her missing weapons. Wrath creeps over her face for a moment as she silently curses this but she continues on to the noise, it being the best bet to explain this situation.

As she neared the room she the voices had been emanating from she stops, and tries to listen but she is unsure that to make an offer for something called 'cheese chips'. Valdis steels herself, ready to fight or take flight if the group means to do harm, though now remembering she is disarmed, she already knows which of those options is truly a wise one. The woman steps through the door into the room and looks around, though with only one foot in the door, and clears her throat. "I do not mean to interrupt but this feels not like Valhǫll and there are too few cats for this to be Sessrúmnir, do any of you know where we are... Or at least what has been done to be denied my seat in the corpse hall?" *Her body language remains tense, ready to run if they lunge for her but she speaks calmly, her eyes peering into the room twice over as she starts to see her odds of winning any fight against them drop sharply.

“Uh, pretty sure we’re all alive here, so no corpse halls. You’re in a...”

How the hell am I gonna explain this?

“You're in a large ship that has the ability to go anywhere in the world and can also go to the future or past. We were all woken up in the same place you were, and given a mission to stop someone who is trying to change the future, possibly for the worse. A lot of the others, including our de-facto captain, are outside the ship getting horses, and they should be coming back soon.”

It sounded like they were already back, from the loud sounds of whinnying horses and...screaming?

“That doesn’t sound good at all, we should probably go down to help.”

Rising from the couch, Ted threw his empty chip bag in a nearby trash can, and started towards the door.

[Dyelli Beybi]

Jean, Jay and Hannah
Cowritten by Europa Undivided, Nagakawa and Dyelli Beybi

---

Where Hannah appoints an Ambassador.

---

As the horse rustlers did their thing outside and even more mentally traumatized people woke up from the pods, Jean and Jay were doing their own thing in the mess hall... drinking tea. Jean in particular had his hands on cold tea, complete with pearls and pudding. It was the kind of drink that he was having for the first time in five years, and he couldn't even remember what real food tasted like until now.

“Hm, I think someone’s coming.” Jay leaned forward on his elbows and took a thoughtful sip from his cup of iced green tea as footsteps sounded outside the mess.


Hannah appeared in the doorway a moment later, glancing about the room with a general, "Hello," before her eyes landed on Jean, "Ah... that's where you are." Since they had last spoken Hannah had changed into full, colourful Greek regalia, with a long green tunic-type dress and a red cloak over the top with a fair bit of jewellery, "So Jean," she said, continuing her conversation from earlier, "You said something before that made me think you had a vague knowledge of ancient Greece... and you're a dude. Want to be the Ambassador in our little party?"

Jay chuckled, “Ambassador Lafayette. Has, uh, kind of a nice ring to it.”

"Oooohhh, ambassador?" Jean took another gulp off his cold tea, sucking in several of the pearls in the process. "I'd be happy to be our so called ambassador. Mostly because you asked me to." He would then flash a little wink before turning around and smirking at Jay. "Hear that? I'm an envoy now. Bringing tidings from a distant land. Heheeee."

"Excellent! Chosen a name yet? If not, you can be Aegon... Aegon of Theodosia," Hannah nodded. She glanced between the two of them before asking, "You're not going to get bashful about me being your 'courtesan' are you? I realise for you, it was probably only yesterday that I was with Ivan... but for the purposes of the mission you should be brazen about it or they'll start wondering what I'm doing there."

"Um... no, I won't be." True, it was only yesterday that Hannah and his friend had been together, but now, it doesn't matter anymore. They had been separated by time and space; those two seemingly were never meant to be. "You'll be my 'courtesan', then!" He would say 'courtesan' while making quotation marks in the air with his hands, "This ought to be a fun, new experience, being ambassador... Aegon of Theodosia." Jean had taken to the name that Hannah had suggested, indicating that he hadn't really thought of one yet.

"Good..." Hannah chewed her lip thoughtfully, "Remember this is an extremely male dominated society. So be disrespectful, 'handsey', whatever it takes for you to sell our roles in this, and make it clear that I'm not available to anyone else. Unless it's just people from the ship, don't break character. Any questions?"

"So I get to be my old self then?" Jean nodded profusely, seemingly liking this role. "Alright, crystal clear. No questions here. I'm supposed to be a handsey bastard and you are my 'courtesan' and no one else's. And I'm the envoy. That's all no?"

"That's your old self?" that got a raised eyebrow though she didn't wait for a response, "And here I was worrying you'd play it too coy! Bastard is probably overstating it a bit; just a man of this place and time. Err, anyway... my plan was to say you're from Theodosia, we're there to negotiate an Alliance. The unspoken subtext will be that we're interested to see if the Thebans are actually going to win so we'll stick around to watch what happens. As for what happens next," she shrugged expansively, "No idea! You'll need to improvise!"

"Yes, I was a dastardly young man when I have yet to see the horrors of the era we came from." Jean rubbed his hands and together and blew in then, as if trying to warm himself. "Very well then, that's what I'll do... as for what comes next... hmm, let's just say that my 'superiors' would be happy that those warlike Spartans get beaten. Then... We'll play the rest by ear, then. It's just going to depend on how they take it..."

---

OOC: I'm moving this a bit closer to the ship, so that I can move us to the main mission in the next post.

Hannah Brown
Some time later...

Johannes de Spielman

---

...
"He's hemorrhaging severely. We can't put him on the horses, lest they panic and run away - he would've fell and got trampled, worse, we could." But then there would be nobody to guide the horses. "William," he said to the doctor, "Ride that horse into the bay... we will carry the Greek." He turned at the black man. "You, Neger! Help me with this man. We'll hold his back and thigh together." He squatted near the injured man, hands slowly sliding to his back - performing a two-handed seat carry.

Hannah had been mooching around outside the ship, waiting for the party to come back with the horses when they reappeared, injured local in tow. That wasn't a great start, but at least they'd had the sense to bring him back to the ship. Killing people unnecessarily could cause all sorts of problems for the timeline. She hurried over to them, "Whoa... any idea who this is?" she asked in a hissed whisper, "Get him to the medical bay and ask the computer for recommendations on a sedative or anaesthetic... or something to keep him under," she said, "Hopefully we can keep him unconscious while we deal with the situation at Leuctra then put him back, none the wiser as to what happened."

Having given her opinion on a good course of action, Hannah quickly acquiesced to the more medically minded. She was self-aware enough to know she wasn't the best qualified in this situation, though she wasn't entirely sure if William was from a time where anaesthetics were routinely used so felt it had been right to give him the option, "Though I will leave him in your capable hands, Sir," she said, glancing across at him, "Just tell me if there's anything that you need me to do."

[Alcona and Hubris]

"He's hemorrhaging severely. We can't put him on the horses, lest they panic and run away - he would've fell and got trampled, worse, we could." But then there would be nobody to guide the horses. "William," he said to the doctor, "Ride that horse into the bay... we will carry the Greek." He turned at the black man. "You, Neger! Help me with this man. We'll hold his back and thigh together." He squatted near the injured man, hands slowly sliding to his back - performing a two-handed seat carry.

William scowled and pulled a long bit of cloth out from a pocket. "Fine, but wrap this tightly around his torso to bind the wound and help staunch that bleeding...glad I didn't change into local costume."

"I can help. I'll help you get him to med bay."

William was startled when he realized that the negro had been standing quietly near the ship. Obviously the man had gotten ahold of himself which was better than William. "Thank You, I'll go up ahead and prep the infirmary for stitching his wound and surgery...Mr. Computer can guide you once your aboard."

William turned and grabbed the reins of his horse and almost ran as he moved between the small horses, grabbing leads or ropes. He pushed forward with an urgency both for getting ready, as well as being completely annoyed at the current situation. He stormed into the cargo bay, the horses pulling as him but somehow knowing that he would be far more a problem if they didn't relent.

"Whoa... any idea who this is?" she asked in a hissed whisper,

"Someone who did not appreciate us stealing these horses, based on the mare he changed at us with he tracked us from the farm....apparently Greeks are much like Texans and Scotsmen when it comes to thieving their horses...they track you down with deadly intent...based "

"Get him to the medical bay and ask the computer for recommendations on a sedative or anaesthetic... or something to keep him under," she said, "Hopefully we can keep him unconscious while we deal with the situation at Leuctra then put him back, none the wiser as to what happened."

"Though I will leave him in your capable hands, Sir," she said, glancing across at him, "Just tell me if there's anything that you need me to do." [/quote]

"I'm afraid we are likely not going to be able to keep him unconscious. I'm going to need him awake as some point to assess the possible head injury unless this ship's gadgetry can now measure all his pain and mental capacities without him being awake"

William scowls at that as he ties the horses in his care onto a pipe labeled '360 Volt, 30 Hz' in large yellow letters. Not knowing what Hz stood for...though volts sounded like something in one of those bad novels some of the junior officers were reading on the boat across the lakes...he just assumed the horses likely can't damage the sturdy pipe and turns to head to the medical bay. He looks at Hannah, raises an eyebrow at her get up but continues in a business like manner.

"However Captain I would like to have a word with you about a few things...do you mind if we walk and talk while I wash off what I can before surgery and clean this cut of my own?" He points to the long thin line of red that can be made out in amongst the mud and muck that covers William.

"I do not find out what interesting ancient deadly diseases hang around in manure filled ancient Greek paddocks I can infect myself or my patient with."

William looks back at the two carrying the body, shifts and continues to move towards the doorway from the cargo space into the rest of the ship...
"Shall we?" letting Hannah go first if she so desires.

[Europa Undivided]

Leona Helstrom

“Cheddar flavored chips, what blasphemy.” Ted jokingly said under his breath between chips.

Leona simply chuckled at this, chucking yet another of the cheddar flavored potato chips into her mouth before smiling. "Well, I guess I have my own preferences and you have yours, eeehhh?" Truly, Ted has been entertaining to be with in the last hour; whether through his sheepish responses, or the fact that they were starting to acclimate to each other's presence. She was really finding him a nice companion now.

“Yeah, maybe we were put here for a reason. That’s some comfort, at least. I didn’t die immediately after the Ragon attack, I worked in a settlement in the Appalachians for 12 years, sadly chip-less.”

"By the Lord, how could you have survived without chips?", Leona said jokingly while gently punching him in the shoulder. "Chips are love, chips are life, they are the best kind of junk food to ever exist."

Leona chuckled. "Second place before burgers, that is."

"I do not mean to interrupt but this feels not like Valhǫll and there are too few cats for this to be Sessrúmnir, do any of you know where we are... Or at least what has been done to be denied my seat in the corpse hall?

It seemed that the recreational room was a magnet for people now, as the one called Phoenix told Marcus that stuff was good... and then there was this other woman; Leona was able to understand at least a bit of what she was saying even without the translator nanites, as the other lady was speaking Old Norse. It was really hard to understand without those nanites, though, as modern Swedish and its sister tongues were quite far away from their ancient primogenitor.

She didn't have to say anything, though, as Ted had it covered.

“You're in a large ship that has the ability to go anywhere in the world and can also go to the future or past. We were all woken up in the same place you were, and given a mission to stop someone who is trying to change the future, possibly for the worse. A lot of the others, including our de-facto captain, are outside the ship getting horses, and they should be coming back soon.”

"What he said." Leona then dropped the empty bag of chips into the trash bin and stood up, dusting the stray particles of cheese powdering on her coat before glancing over to the Viking woman. "I know all of this is very difficult to understand, but you'll get used to it... soon enough."

It sounded like they were already back, from the loud sounds of whinnying horses and...screaming?

“That doesn’t sound good at all, we should probably go down to help.”

Rising from the couch, Ted threw his empty chip bag in a nearby trash can, and started towards the door.

"Oh, God, here we go again." It was this screaming all over again, just like the screaming Dane from before... though the voice was a little different, so it wasn't him. Though, it was clear that something had happened in the horse rustling mission. Though... speaking of screaming people...

"Oh... the guy." She remembered that the computer had told her that the screaming blonde Dane from earlier had been placed by the Englishman in one of the crew quarters instead of the med bay.

Sighing, she walked towards the Viking lady. "What's your name, by the way?" It was a relief that this one wasn't screaming, or wanting to commandeer the ship like the Confederate. "You can just come with me... and talk. Answer whatever questions you might have."

[Dyelli Beybi]

Hannah Brown

"All aboard! We're getting underway!" Hannah called to anyone still standing outside the ship before she padded back onto the ship entry ramp. The sandals were a lot quieter than the work boots she preferred stomping around in.

...

...

"I'm afraid we are likely not going to be able to keep him unconscious. I'm going to need him awake as some point to assess the possible head injury unless this ship's gadgetry can now measure all his pain and mental capacities without him being awake"

William scowls at that as he ties the horses in his care onto a pipe labeled '360 Volt, 30 Hz' in large yellow letters. Not knowing what Hz stood for...though volts sounded like something in one of those bad novels some of the junior officers were reading on the boat across the lakes...he just assumed the horses likely can't damage the sturdy pipe and turns to head to the medical bay. He looks at Hannah, raises an eyebrow at her get up but continues in a business like manner.

"However Captain I would like to have a word with you about a few things...do you mind if we walk and talk while I wash off what I can before surgery and clean this cut of my own?" He points to the long thin line of red that can be made out in amongst the mud and muck that covers William.

"I do not find out what interesting ancient deadly diseases hang around in manure filled ancient Greek paddocks I can infect myself or my patient with."

William looks back at the two carrying the body, shifts and continues to move towards the doorway from the cargo space into the rest of the ship...
"Shall we?" letting Hannah go first if she so desires.

"Don't ask me, I'm a Health and Safety Inspector, not a Doctor," Hannah replied with a slight shrug, "I know a bit about my contemporary medicine, in the way that any educated person of my time would do, but half the stuff on here might as well be written in Greek for all my ability to decipher what it is supposed to do. If you think he needs to be awake, then keep him awake."

"I do know that you don't need to worry about the ancient diseases, we have medicines to treat those," Hannah said, without going into any of the details about antibiotics. Bacteria from this time were unlikely to be resistant to anything so even a dose of penicillin ought to do the trick, "Anyway, what's on your mind?" she asked.

She was eager to get them moving to Leuctra, but she figured this might be important so was willing to wait to see what William had to say. She really hoped nobody had wandered off into the night...

[Kartofluland]

Valdis Kjotvidottir

“You're in a large ship that has the ability to go anywhere in the world and can also go to the future or past. We were all woken up in the same place you were, and given a mission to stop someone who is trying to change the future, possibly for the worse. A lot of the others, including our de-facto captain, are outside the ship getting horses, and they should be coming back soon.”

It sounded like they were already back, from the loud sounds of whinnying horses and...screaming?

“That doesn’t sound good at all, we should probably go down to help.”

Rising from the couch, Ted threw his empty chip bag in a nearby trash can, and started towards the door.

"What he said." Leona then dropped the empty bag of chips into the trash bin and stood up, dusting the stray particles of cheese powdering on her coat before glancing over to the Viking woman. "I know all of this is very difficult to understand, but you'll get used to it... soon enough."

"Oh, God, here we go again." It was this screaming all over again, just like the screaming Dane from before... though the voice was a little different, so it wasn't him. Though, it was clear that something had happened in the horse rustling mission. Though... speaking of screaming people...

"Oh... the guy." She remembered that the computer had told her that the screaming blonde Dane from earlier had been placed by the Englishman in one of the crew quarters instead of the med bay.

Sighing, she walked towards the Viking lady. "What's your name, by the way?" It was a relief that this one wasn't screaming, or wanting to commandeer the ship like the Confederate. "You can just come with me... and talk. Answer whatever questions you might have."

Valdis looked between the two for a moment, confusion visible on her face as she obviously fails to understand exactly what the man had said, though at least she was no sure she had not been sent to Valhalla. She rubs her temple and moves to follow Leona to wherever she was headed.
"Valdis, Valdis Kjotvidottir. I would shake your hand but we should get moving if you want to save whoever that is, screaming like that is... Uncommon for the long-living. And on questions, while we are walking there could you tell me why I am here or how I got here? From what I can remember I was staring down the valkyrja before I woke up in that barrel." She rolls up the sleeves on her grey jumpsuit, not wanting to get as little blood as possible on what was currently her only clothing, presuming such a wail to be the result of a major wound.

[Alcona and Hubris]

"Don't ask me, I'm a Health and Safety Inspector, not a Doctor," Hannah replied with a slight shrug, "I know a bit about my contemporary medicine, in the way that any educated person of my time would do, but half the stuff on here might as well be written in Greek for all my ability to decipher what it is supposed to do. If you think he needs to be awake, then keep him awake."

She gets a raised eyebrow at this. William comes from a time period when such roles were only filled by medical doctors. Usually men but a few women had gotten through medical schools in places that such a role wouldn't be unheard of. But the idea of an untrained person in such a role was defiantly jarring.

"I do know that you don't need to worry about the ancient diseases, we have medicines to treat those," Hannah said, without going into any of the details about antibiotics. Bacteria from this time were unlikely to be resistant to anything so even a dose of penicillin ought to do the trick, "Anyway, what's on your mind?" she asked.

"Well first, everyone who is to be riding needs some time to get acquainted with their mounts...those beasts we have are decidedly not docile amusement ponies who will take anyone who pays a fathering around their little circuit. Anyone with any horse sense would ping on our mount's ill ease with us in a moment. Can we insert a brief delay in arriving at our target a few hours to ensure we're not caught out when we arrive? After all this is a time machine...when we arrive in the distaff, or target, timeline is more important than our own perspective time line correct?"

William walks down the corridor speaking reaching the door to the infirmary. There he turns as he opens he door, watching the others carry his next patient to the space. "And can I get the authority to lock rooms and bind patients please? Mr. Computer is very set in not allowing it...but I now have at least two patients who's movements need to be restricted." He nods with his head at the approaching greek.

[Talchyon]

Icarus, in Hydroponics, 2 levels down
Nawa Tatsuaki Ukira, 13th century gainyo

The garden was large, as far as Tatsuaki could see. His back was towards the door against the tree, and his face towards the rest of the grounds. It was an interesting place, just as the rest of this vessel was. The wealth of the builders was so vast and the skill of the craftsmen involved in constructing such a vessel was so involved that he wondered how it was possible to hold that much power, let alone safely. Surely whoever made this ship had enemies, who were all vying for the same power and wealth.

The garden itself was a curiosity. While the tree he sat against was rooted, it was not rooted in soil at all. It jutted out of the floor. This made him shake his head at the stupidity of it. Anyone who had any sense knew that growing a tree too close to a house or building would eventually cause the destruction of that building. The roots would go so strong over time that it would throw walls around as if they were nothing. Yet, though this tree obviously had solid roots, there was no sign of the mighty roots that had to accompany it. It was as if the floor had hidden them - and was fighting back against the natural upheaval those roots brought.

That wasn't the only curiosity. In addition, there were other stretches where long rows of plants grew out of pots. Different kinds of pots at that, most not made of fired clay, but more metal. As a practitioner of herbs and their uses, that struck him as more than odd. There is a natural component to earthenware that allows plants to thrive - much more than pots made of metal would. And there were more oddities. This was not only a garden, though it seemed like that from the outside. All around the garden and throughout various rows of pots were large boxes and configurations of metal. They made quiet noises, as a cat would make when one petted it. The metallic boxes were hooked up to various tubes that ran into the ground and into the ceiling. And everywhere he looked, he could not see a pinch of soil anywhere. Plants grew out of a weird looking fluid. It could be water, but it was very very clean water if so, unnaturally clean.

In short it was like no garden Tatsuaki had ever seen.

Just then, another person entered the large odd garden. A woman.

Madame Emmelot de Langres

...Upon her entry of the “Hydroponics” garden, she soon spotted another individual already present. He was certainly not European—perhaps he was from the Far East or New World? She had never seen anyone from either of those places with her own eyes, but harkening back to the occasional accounts she’d heard, the shoe seemed to fit. It was hard to tell whether he was dressed or not, but since the robes he donned were unlike what they had been initially provided with, it stood to reason that he must have chosen them. She imagined few people would choose only to wear underwear while out and about. In the spirit of politeness, though, she approached him and greeted him with a small curtsy, as it would have been presumptuous to simply assume that he wasn’t possibly also of noble bearing.

“I pray I am not imposing,” she began, “But would you mind if I also enjoyed this garden?”

Tatsuaki rose to his feet and politely bowed with a slight nod of his head. It was formal, polite, and fitting for the person who stood nearby. The woman was a gaijin, but she had the bearing of importance, prominence, honor. He guessed she was not a commoner, but may be of equal status to himself - or even higher. With his head still bowed, Tatsuaki spoke, "That would be very welcome. This is not like any garden I have ever seen. But it is the most familiar of places I have seen on this ship so far."

Just then, there was increased activity in the garden! Some little humanoid figures, many without legs but operating on small treads, appeared from compartments in the walls and metallic boxes. They began tending to some of the plants. Some pruned, some sprayed a mist somehow on some of them, some tidied up, and all went about with minds of their own, acting as one. It was as if someone had spoken a command and his minions or servants jumped to serve him.

Adam Richardson stayed in the Engineering Section... There was quite a bit he could not access. It would pop up with the words restricted, place hand here. He wanted to see what was not restricted first. Some of engineering was not restricted. Maps of the ship, basic maintenance tasks, and a few other things. There was a preprogrammed switch which said simply said automatic maintenance. He pressed a button and the routine started. Cleaning disks would come out of closets and a few upright cleaning robots would move around the ships wiping things down and scrubbing the inside of the ship. A map of the ship appeared. There were a few red areas that simply said malfunction in red. Some of the cleaning robots had not been serviced in a very long time.

Not only did various minions set out to begin pruning and gardening, but all of a sudden, it began raining too! Tatsuaki's mouth opened in surprise as water fell from the ceiling, without any cloud around! The water was falling in certain areas at a time, and at this time the tree he now stood by was in one of those areas.

To the lady, he said, "Quick. Get out of the rain and under this tree!" As she did, Tatsuaki looked at her closer and appreciated her even more. She was beautiful, dressed in an exotic fancy dress, and definitely no commoner.

Tatsuaki bowed his head again and said, "I am Nawa Tatsuaki Ukira. The land I come from is no longer. It was called Tatoma. Since then, it went by the name 'Japan.'" Then, a little more softly, he said, "I was a man of honor." And again, he spoke, "You can call me Tatsuaki."

[Western Fardelshufflestein]

Heins Alfsen

It was like there was another presence hovering right beside him, a foreign shadow cast over his form. He opened his eyes, and found, unsurprisingly, a strange man looming over him. But his mind was weighted down, almost like he was still asleep, and his sight blurred, so he could not observe what this man was doing.

Slowly, he came to his senses. He remembered, screaming, yelling, words, footsteps--and death. He had died, he recalled, but had somehow been brought back to life.

Heins made no effort to sit up. He was tired, and his throat ached. What he could really use was water or ale, if anything of that nature was available here.

Oddly, he felt totally calm. There was a flatness to his emotions, almost...like they were at ease. His thoughts, he found, were also calm. They did not roil and spin like a seaward tempest. Words came not in short bursts but in flat lines, like gentle plains, plains across which no soldiers were marching.

He wondered if he was in the present, or somewhere far in the future. Either way, the war was probably over now. Had the Protestants bested those scheming Catholics at long last, as Heins had hoped, or had other, more negative events taken place? What had happened to his family, his King, his country?

He swallowed, his thoughts suddenly not feeling so flat anymore. He hoped his family was alright, or, if they were dead, that they had fared well. How hard had his death been on them? Or had he been considered missing? A deserter? He probably had nieces and nephew who had lived their lives, had children, and continued the family line for so long that Heins was long forgotten.

He could have distant descendants somewhere in this place. A many-generations-removed nephew or niece. The thought of it made his mind start to churn again, so he closed his eyes, sighed and took a deep breath.

He needed to adjust to his surroundings before he started panicking--again.

So he blinked, opened his eyes again, and looked at the man who was nearby. There was a woman behind him, too--Oriental, with thick black hair tied up in a knot. She was in a strange costume, one that looked ancient, but maybe it was common dress where she was from. She was of small stature, and her dark eyes were gentle, concerned, kind. Had she perished, too, Heins wondered, or was he the only one who had been resurrected?

Teng Nuan

One of the women, Cornelia, came from a society that had been a successor to the place they were visiting first. The two of them had bonded over conversation, with Cornelia telling Nuan about the place known as Rome and Nuan telling Cornelia about her family and village. Her own life was plain compared to the other woman's, but she did not mind much; her life had been a pleasant one, and she would not want to spend it any other way.

After some time, Nuan suggested they go check on the man who had woken up screaming. Nuan, although she did not know him, hoped he was alright. The strange thing they had given him had made him go to sleep in an instant, and she was worried he had been hurt in some way.

She was directed to his room; when she received permission to enter, she did so. He was lying in a strange, elevated bedroll, with long cloths draped over him and a fluffy cloth tucked under his head. His light eyes were open. This time, he was not screaming. His hair looked even more yellow, though Nuan did not know why.

Since it was alright for her to get closer to him, she did. Not too close, because she did not want to make him scream again.

The yellow-haired man closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he was looking right at her. She met his gaze. He didn't look like he was about to scream, not even close.

Nuan wondered how he had died that had made him so distraught. She was curious, of course, but she was also worried about this strange man. If this was the future, how many steps ahead on the road did the yellow-haired man come from? How many steps ahead or behind were they now?

She knew what Rome was now, and she thought she knew what Greece was. It was an empire that came before Rome, where Cornelia was from. So for Cornelia, Greece was behind her on the road. But where was it on Nuan's road? Ahead, behind? Was there anybody here from Nuan's spot on the road?

She wanted to ask him, but could not. Not knowing his social rank kept her silent. He could be from a class superior to her own. Where he came from, he might be expected to speak first. And he was a man and she a woman; how could she know for sure he didn't see males as the superior sex?

So she kept silent, hands clasped before her, and waited for this poor yellow-haired man to talk.

[Alaska Hawaii and the Aleutes]

Marray Zeve

Marray Zeve slowly opened his eyes. His head was still pounding and he felt like he was about to throw up somewhere.

Looking down he noticed his refection. He looked like he was in his twenties, but wasn't he an old man when he went to sleep this morning? Or was it maybe all just a dream? Was he in Cryostasis? But really now, where was he? And when was he?

His wife and kids were nowhere to be seen. Were they even alive? The thought scared him.

It looked like a capsule. Marray looked at it closer. There was mostly nothing except... a pile of clothes?

He stood up and went over to the pile. There were a few different options, but he soon found a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Not what he usually wears, but it's at least something.

Marray looked around again. Was that a door in the left corner? It looked strange and oddly futuristic. When he came closer the door opened. The light blinded him.

He wandered a bit further until his headache came back and he fell onto the ground.

[UniversalCommons]

Adam Richardson drifted off into sleep on the cot in the engineering section. In his dream, he felt a sharp thump in the back of his head, he cried out in his sleep tossing left and right. Then there was unbearable pain for a brief moment as he was crushed into a small cube. He felt he was floating in space with no orientation. No up or down, or left or right, just floating. Then he saw a light and started drifting towards it. He was moving but not moving. His jaw hung open on the cot and his eyes were rolled up into his head. Then he felt as if he was in a container. He woke up from his nap. He rubbed his eyes. Was he dead? He did not know. It seemed real enough to him. Whatever place he was in, was not a safe place. People were screaming and violent. He wondered if he was in some kind of purgatory. Something like a rerun of the Twlight Zone. He felt hungry and somewhat afraid.

[Voxija]

Cornelia Quinta

One of the women, Cornelia, came from a society that had been a successor to the place they were visiting first. The two of them had bonded over conversation, with Cornelia telling Nuan about the place known as Rome and Nuan telling Cornelia about her family and village. Her own life was plain compared to the other woman's, but she did not mind much; her life had been a pleasant one, and she would not want to spend it any other way.

After some time, Nuan suggested they go check on the man who had woken up screaming. Nuan, although she did not know him, hoped he was alright. The strange thing they had given him had made him go to sleep in an instant, and she was worried he had been hurt in some way.

Cornelia had liked talking to Teng Nuan. She enjoyed telling the peasant woman about the splendor of Rome, and Nuan's life was very interesting as well, and was probably happier than Cornelia's life. Imagine, someone from the Land of Silk, here! China was like the moon for Rome, and although Cornelia had worn some fine silk garments in her life, before she had talked to Nuan, that was all she knew about China: silk.

Cornelia felt a strange motherly need to protect Teng Nuan. Maybe because she was so much younger than Cornelia, or shorter. But Nuan was an adult, so this was silly, right? If she was on this ship, she could protect herself, or at least think her way out of tricky situations. Cornelia wondered why certain people were selected, if they were even selected. Maybe it was just random.

When Teng Nuan suggested to Cornelia that they visit the man who was screaming, Cornelia respectfully declined to join her. Cornelia was still a bit afraid. Who's to say a screaming man wouldn't scream again? Her viewpoint was colored by the fact that she didn't scream, but her point of view on the matter ran deeper than that.

[Mercatus]

Marcus Lennox

"I uh... um, thanks, I guess. For understanding I mean. I thought y'all would look at me like some raving madman or something." said Marcus in some apparent relief after the responses to his recent tirade. Getting up from the couch, Marcus went to lean against the wall. His face became empty, distant from bereavement. No matter what anyone said or did, he thought that he would never recover from his loss or his trauma, yet he also denied, even to himself, that he was capable of feeling trauma.

No Marcus, you little bitch. Man the fuck up. You're a fighter pilot, you have to power through this. You can't be scared, because what hasn't killed you has made you stronger.

Marcus had disconnected from everyone else by this point, a kind of depression having caught up with him. To say he felt like shit was an understatement. He felt that he had failed and was all alone now because of it. He paid no attention to the conversation carried on by those around. Time seemed to pass strangely. One moment he had just situated himself by the wall, and the next a woman speaking Norse was asking about Valhalla or something, Marcus didn't know, nor did he care.

"Hey guys, I'm gonna go get a drink."

And by "drink", Marcus meant alcohol. Something strong, preferably. Walking out of the rec room, Marcus slowly made his way to the mess hall. As he walked, he couldn't take his mind off of his wife, whom he dearly missed. Sweet, caring Martha, she was the perfect woman for Marcus. She always warmly welcomed him home when he returned from a combat deployment, and she always made time for the two of them. Suddenly, as if it was real, Marcus heard the hallucinated voice of Martha echoing down the hall.

"Mark! Come on, slowpoke. Catch meeee!"

Her voice faded away, beckoning Marcus to follow the sound. He quickened his pace on the path to the mess hall. He didn't reply to the phantom voice, determined only to catch the physical origin of his delusions. As he continued, he heard the voice again, this time from a different direction.

"This way, Mark!"

He continued to follow his audial hallucinations until finally he reached his quarters. There was no alcohol in his future, at least for now. Opening the door to his room, he went to sit on the bed, not even bothering to shut the door. He heard Martha's voice again, this time from directly behind him. When he turned around, there she stood: Martha Lennox, smiling, standing beside the bed he was currently sitting on. Marcus' breathing leveled out at the sight of who he wanted to see this whole time.

"You're a mess, Mark."

Marcus stood up to embrace his hallucination, but as he moved forward to do so, he met only air. As he turned to the side, Marcus saw the spitting image of his beloved wife again, this time leaning on the desk in his room. He was perplexed at how she seemed to move so quickly (even though she wasn't real), but he made no further attempts to approach her.

"Y-you've come back! Martha, you don't realize how much I missed you!"

"Listen, Mark. You've been strong, and you are here because it wasn't your time to go. We all must learn to move on from the past, Mark, you have to accept what happened and focus on the people you've met here. They need you, and I know you can become as important to them as you were to me."

Confused and, admittedly, a little scared, Marcus replied to his hallucination, "Wait! You're not saying- no! Please don't leave! You're all I've got and now you're just gonna go?"

Delusional, Marcus walked forward in an effort to stop his post-bereavement hallucination from leaving, but it was too late. The apparition was gone, and Marcus was left alone again in his quarters. To anyone observing through the open door, he would've looked crazy and insane, talking to nothing but air. As he processed what had just happened, Marcus became enraged, his breathing became heavier, and every muscle on his face contorted with anger as he was ripped away, once again, from a loved one.

No! God fucking dammit! Why did she leave?! I'm literally going crazy from this shit! Insanity isn't coming, it's already here.

Marcus stormed off to the bathroom that accompanied his room, looking at himself in the mirror. Tensing up with everything in him, he punched the mirror. Repeatedly. With both hands. The shards of glass broken off from the mirror cut deep into his hands and fingers, paring and tearing skin from flesh. The mirror had become a gory mess, all spiderwebbed and cracked to hell, with splashes of blood in the areas where Marcus' fists landed. When he was done, he slowly pulled his his hands from the mirror, all bloodied and with some areas of raw flesh having been exposed. Some small glass fragments had stuck themselves into his hands, which he carefully removed by hand. It hurt and burned like hell to flex his fingers, but he didn't give a shit. He walked dazedly out the door of his quarters, letting himself fall into a sitting position against the cold, unforgiving metal wall. A few tears rolled down his cheeks, but he made no sound. The blood running from his now-unclenched fingers was now dripping onto the floor. In the distance, he heard a man screaming, as well as severl bootsteps from the others, likely to follow the source of the screaming.

[Nagakawa]

Trần Đình Dương

In anticipation for the inevitable future where he'd once again have no tobacco on hand, or perhaps in an attempt to stave off that inevitable future for as long as possible, Dương had taken with him three cartons of the cigarettes he'd found in the storage room, along with a few lighters that he'd dug around quite a bit in an attempt to find.

His craving for nicotine satiated, at least for the time being, Dương quietly made his way back out into the dining room, searching for a place where he could kick back and relax for a bit. There didn't seem to be anything to do on this ship, although several other people did seem to be busy with something ("wonder what's with the fancy dress too", he thought to himself). Whatever was happening, Dương thought to himself, he'd not involve himself in it just yet.

Not, he was insistent, until somebody explained to him why he had been put here.

Next to the dining room was what seemed to be a recreation room of sorts- that seemed to be what it was intended for, judging by the way it had been furnished, and what was a rec room without people to relax in it?

Finding himself a seat with an ashtray beside it, Dương plonked himself down, took out the open box of cigarettes he'd opened earlier, and lit himself a second stick.

"The Icarus..."

Whatever this place was, Dương concluded that it probably wasn't Hell- not in the Christian fire and brimstone sense, anyway. Not that he believed in an afterlife of rewards or punishments, but that there was an afterlife to begin with was understandably surprising.

The people he'd met were nice enough. Jean and Jay seemed like nice people, and the others who were scurrying around with their dress-up business didn't look like they were intent on killing him anytime soon.

"Hmm."

First of all, Dương thought, was to come up with a course of action. But what course of action was there, to begin with? He'd awoken, sure, but it wasn't something he'd planned at any point in time throughout his life.

Besides... what else was there left that Dương wanted to do, anyway? His had been a life of dichotomies; of excitement and ennui, of immortal pleasure and hellish agony; he had killed people, and likewise, had snatched them back from the jaws of death, defying the whims of destiny both times. At various points in his life, he had lived in poverty, but also in comfort and even at times in wealth. By now, his son, wherever he was, probably had a family of his own. What more was there?

There is one more thing you have not yet achieved, Trần Đình Dương.

"Hm."

The sickly sweet smell of cigarette smoke filled the rec room. This particular brand was not particularly to Dương's liking- it left an odd aftertaste on the tongue not unlike the smell of a barbecue.

You should give it a try for a bit. See if you like it.

Dương chuckled to himself.

Marray Zeve
He wandered a bit further until his headache came back and he fell onto the ground.

"The fuck was that?"

At the other end of the rec room, a man with short-cropped brown hair had stumbled in through the doorway, only to suddenly tumble over out cold, his head hitting the (thankfully) carpeted floor with a loud thud.

Stubbing out the remaining bit of his cigarette into the ashtray, Dương got up from his chair abruptly, stretching his chest muscles, before slowly sauntering over to where the brown-haired man now lay, quietly standing over his unconscious body and looking down at him in bemusement. He'd seen enough illegal bareknuckle boxing matches to know that that fall probably wasn't that bad for the poor guy. Still, if he didn't come to within the next few seconds or so, some medical attention would probably be needed...

[Theyra]

Somehere on the ship
Tutayan Huyhua Achachau

After the rest of the crew went to go on the mission and left him alone. Tutayan retreated to wander the ship. Exploring what is probably going to be his new home and thinking about things. As he walked the corridors, and let his right hand slide against the cold metal wall. He may not be in Hanan Pacha or Ukhu Pacha, the world above or the world below. But, this is better than to wake up here than in a Spanish prison. A short moment of fear and anger came to him. But, as soon as it came, it turned to sadness as the thought of his family came to him. He has no idea of what happened to his family after he was killed. He walked closer to the wall and started to slowly slid down it until he was sitting on the floor, back against the wall. Chances are he may not see him again and get an answer to what was their fate. All he can hope for that they survived the new war with the Spanish and that the Inca won it.

As he sat there contemplating, a thought came to him. Something that he should have thought of before but didn't, probably due to the confusion of him being alive and everything. This is the first time ever seeing, much less being on a ship before. Such a thing had been made impossible since his home was located high in the Andes, and he would have to fight through the Spanish territory to reach the coast. Tutayan let out a small chuckle as he looked around. The first boat he comes across just happens to be a metal one and one that travels through time. The first of many things Tutayan wagers. Fate or what the gods had in mind for him is a rather strange one. But, if the gods seem to put their faith in him and this group to protect the timeline, then so be it. Even if he still has some questions about it.

"Ehhh, time to get up," Tutayan said to himself as he slowly got up. He had spent enough time on the floor, and there was still the matter of exploring the ship. After doing a quick stretch, he started to walk and explore the ship properly. It would not take long before Tutayan got a little annoyed. Not about the difficulty of finding stuff or anything like that. It was that he could not read the signs that were next to each of the rooms and areas that he encountered. What does this even mean? Frustrated at his inability to as he stared at one sign that read crew quarters. Some kind of markings but, they must mean something. Maybe I can get someone to tell me what they mean if they are not busy with the missions, that is.

So Tutayan ventured down the corridor that led to the crew quarters. Noting the open and empty rooms that he passed. Seeing the beds, and guessed that this was to be their rooms. At least I know where I will be sleeping. He stopped once he spotted some people. He did not recognize any of them except for the screaming man from earlier. It looks like he is not screaming anymore, though. For how much longer? And that hissing too, that was certainly a display that man put on. For that reason, Tutayan was hesitant to approach Heins on the chance he starts screaming again. So he decided to approach the two women, walking up to them before saying hello. "Hello, you two. I am Tutayan and nice to meet you two."

[Dyelli Beybi]

Hannah Brown

"Well first, everyone who is to be riding needs some time to get acquainted with their mounts...those beasts we have are decidedly not docile amusement ponies who will take anyone who pays a fathering around their little circuit. Anyone with any horse sense would ping on our mount's ill ease with us in a moment. Can we insert a brief delay in arriving at our target a few hours to ensure we're not caught out when we arrive? After all this is a time machine...when we arrive in the distaff, or target, timeline is more important than our own perspective time line correct?"

William walks down the corridor speaking reaching the door to the infirmary. There he turns as he opens he door, watching the others carry his next patient to the space. "And can I get the authority to lock rooms and bind patients please? Mr. Computer is very set in not allowing it...but I now have at least two patients who's movements need to be restricted." He nods with his head at the approaching greek.

Come by the bridge when you are done here and I'll scan you on as a crew member. As for the horses; you have fourteen hours," Hannah replied, shaking her head, "I can move us quickly to our destination, but I can't make more time. If we step off the timeline these events will 'solidify' at which point any meddling by us may create another timeline and that is a worse potential outcome that sitting on the ship and doing nothing. Each time we cut another channel, the river runs a little dryer," she said, borrowing John's metaphor from earlier, "and there are things that no living soul is meant to see that are submerged under the river of time."

She left it at that. William had other things to do and Hannah needed to get the ship to Leuctra. Before it had been wiped the computer had spent the vast majority of it's time outlining the way time worked (as far as the computer understood it) and what might happen if they cocked up while trying to stop Blackmore. Hannah wasn't entirely sure she understood it herself, but the bit about the dangers of creating new timelines had struck home. There were things in the ancient darkness beyond the walls of the universe.

---

Fourteen Hours Later...

Ready, or not, the group needed to get moving after fourteen hours. Some people had chosen to stay behind, but for those who had decided to go on the mission, it started at two in the afternoon, the day before the battle.

The Icarus had put down in a patch of woodland about 200 yards from a gravel road which apparently led towards the Theban camp. Hannah spent a few minutes making sure everyone looked right, organising the column so that it looked official, with horses at the front and rear and people on foot in the middle, "We should probably have a cart or something," she shook her head, "Too late to worry about that now. If anyone asks we'll say it got stuck while fording a river and lost."

"Remember!" she said, raising her voice to address the whole group, "Jean is in charge, and his name is Aegon of Theodosia. I am his hetaera, Artemisia. Stay in character, keep a low profile, try to fit in and if you are at all concerned you might not be able to act the part, just stay with the others from the group. Everyone happy?" she didn't wait for a response, "Well it's too late if you aren't. Let's roll!"

It was a hot afternoon without a cloud in the sky and the sun beat down on the back of the party's necks as they trudged northwards, from the place where the ship had put down. To begin with the trees gave some shelter though soon the countryside opened out into cultivated fields and open grassy plains and then there was no respite from it, making armour increasingly uncomfortable. Even those just wearing a tunic and cloak began to feel the heat... with one exception; Hannah hadn't broken a sweat and looked as fresh as a daisy. Despite the heat, here and there peasants toiled in the fields. Song birds could be heard about the party, along with the occasional cawing of a crow which seemed to follow them for a while. The odd fly buzzed about, occasionally bothering the horses and trying to crawl over someone's face.

The camps came into view after half an hour or so of walking, as they passed through a small village which, ostensibly, seemed to be completely deserted, though it was entirely possible there were people hiding in the whitewashed huts, peaking out from behind curtains at the armed party that crept through the town.

The road ran almost directly north. The first camp, they passed was perhaps a mile to the west of the road, a forest of tents set in the foothills of a mountain range that stretched away beyond the horizon, "Not that one," Hannah said, nodding in the direction of the camp, "The Thebans are ahead to the east."

It was another few minutes before the second camp drew into view, partly because the Thebans had erected their camp on the plains, rather than in the commanding position the Spartans had taken. It was also, unmistakably, much smaller. While it was hard to tell the exact numbers of people from counting tents, it seemed likely that the Thebans and their allies were outnumbered nearly 2:1. The column had to cut off the road there, going cross country for a short distance towards the camp, though before they got there, they were challenged by a rider who came trotting across the plain. He wore a white linothorax and bronze Boetian helmet, clinging to his horse with his legs for lack of stirrups, "Halt!" he called, "Who goes there?"

Hannah looked up at the man meekly, waiting for Jean to introduce himself, or one of the horsemen to do it for him. Either would do. For a moment she was taken by the horrifying thought of Clarence trying to share some of his 'southern wisdom' with the funny Mediterranean man. Silently she crossed her fingers behind her back, partly to stop her hand creeping towards the dagger she had hidden in the folds of her chiton in the almost certain expectation that things would get ugly when they encountered the would-be assassin. Please let whomever speaks say something sensible...

[UniversalCommons]

While Hannah talked about time travel Adam Richardson found himself a little bored. He went over the maintenance areas and wandered around looking through different places. He had found the antennae parts that needed to be replaced, some electronic tools, and a pair of clunky magnetic books. There was a maintenance hatch that led to the top hull. He climbed the ladder opened the hatch and walked around for a bit. It was good to be outside. The air was fresh and clean. It was not hard to find the antennae which needed to be replaced. He unscrewed several broken antennae with the tool hand and replaced them with new parts.

Then he spent a few minutes walking around the hull. There were dings and scratches from micrometeorites and orbital space junk. A pair of magnetic boots leading into an empty half of a space suit was stuck to the hull. It took him a while to find the off switch and drag the half of the space suit down into the ship so it could be recycled. The hull maintenance bots needed to have a power connector replaced as well so they could be charged. When the power connector was recharged, they whirred around the outer hull, polishing it and fixing minor dings and scratches.

He went back inside and read some more of the history books. Then he went to an empty room and did push ups, sit ups, bridges, squats, jumping jacks and a variety of floor exercises. He was thinking hard . He went back to the bridge and put his hand on the scanner and said "Adam Richardson. I am Adam Richardson. Are you there computer? I have a few questions."

[Voxija]

Cornelia Quinta

Marching, marching, marching

Cornelia was fatigued and sweaty in her himation. She knew that garment would be too heavy. Cornelia position changed within the group, next to Hannah "Artemisia" one moment, and then in the middle of the soldiers the next. Cornelia thought that maybe a personal assistant would be next to the person she was assisting, but then her rank would be overestimated. Eh, that didn't matter now.

Cornelia had slept well, although waking up and then it being afternoon wasn't very good for her time jet lag. Cornelia had had strange dreams. A stuffed dormouse with wings made of hourglasses was flying around Cornelia, talking in that pirate Clarence's voice about how Cornelia should have beaten her slaves more and saying the Latin word, the one that meant "black", or something like it. And then the dormouse turned into Hannah, but she had the head of a man who Cornelia assumed was Davin Blackmore, even though Cornelia didn't know what he looked like. "Davin" laughed and said that Alexander the Great's death would be a good thing. Cornelia assumed that Somnus, the god of sleep, was trying to contact her in her dreams. She hoped that it wasn't a bad omen.

Cornelia rushed over to her place just behind Hannah. Keep character, Cornelia thought. You're an actor in a play. She admired the nature around her. Although some of her Cornelia's friends hated the dirty country, Cornelia had actually liked getting exiled there. Except for the bugs. No one likes the bugs.

Cornelia giggled when she saw the military camps. Tents. They were just tents. Romans had extensive military barracks, and a single military unit could build an entire camp in a night. That was one thing the Romans were better at then the Greeks.

When a military rider came over and asked who they were, Cornelia froze in terror. She could feel the need for someone to speak up and inform the guard or whoever of what they were doing. Even if he'd listen to a woman, Cornelia was too worried to speak up. Any mistake could mean death.