Dead Star Dockyards

Diana woke up from her nap to an awfully strange sound.

Groaning certainly described part of it, but there was also a high pitched whine to it. This sound was followed by a soft thump, going quiet for a second or two before starting again. The second or third time this repeated, the groaning disappeared, only to be replaced by this whining in force.

Diana was fully awake by the time the dog started barking. Impatient, disoriented, and no doubt extremely confused, the pup was struggling to raise its head and get out from under the blanket.

Getting up from her chair, she walked over to the entombed puppy, flipping back the blanket and freeing her from her linen prison.

Unfortunately, the dog was still extremely groggy. The impact with the floor was uncontrolled, unbalanced, and unplanned. Now sprawled out on the floor, she let out a similar groan to earlier, eliciting a laugh from Diana.

She crouched down and scooped up the juvenile in her arms, noting that her eyes were not focused and her tail was not responding to the stimulus.

"Let's have ARC take a look at you sweetie. I can't imagine you are feeling too well." Holding her like a baby, Diana carried the heavier than she had bargained for German Shepherd all the way to the Noah, setting her down on the elevator plate. At some point her tongue had started lolling out of the side of her mouth, giving her a dopey appearance.

Picking up the doddering mutt and laying her down on the single bed, Diana politely asked ARC to scan her for injuries.

"While she is anatomically different from humans, there seem to be similar patterns in her injuries compared to the ones that Donovan sustained."

"I believe they called that 'Split Decay'. I have no idea how it works, but I assume that Split has a hand in it."

"I will catalogue this phenomena as such. Whatever the cause may be, it seems to first affect the skin and surface level capillaries. The flesh is subject to an increased rate of decay, slowly falling apart. Bruising and swelling seem to be symptoms of this first stage. Beyond this, skin starts to rupture and the muscles become exposed.

Mercedes appears to have recovered from the primary stage, her current dazed state the result of a psychedelic agent. There is no danger."

"Did you or Donovan administer it?"

"No. It is my assumption that this is a side effect of the cure. I detect a similar compound in your bloodstream, though it does not appear to affect your mental state. I expect Mercedes to recover within the hour."

It must have bean that strange bean then, or perhaps an effect of the healing process.

"I have some concerns, Diana. They should not take long to address, but they are not pressing should your presence be required elsewhere."

"I have time. What is this about?"

"I am worried about my capability and usefulness. If the cause of this is Split, of which I have no reason to believe it isn't, then it means I failed to properly keep it outside of the Cabin. I also don't have any way to assist or protect you. If you are in danger there will be nothing I can do.

I feel like I am failing in my duties."

Diana felt that ARC's closest human equivalent was a mature child. Despite its knowledge, it was not yet used to adversity, nor did it understand that it was not expected to do everything for them.

"You have done more than any of us could have hoped, ARC. We know very little about how Split works, so we cannot blame you for not doing a perfect job of insulating against it. At the same time ARC, we don't expect you to do everything for us. We have to make decisions that will affect our lives in the future, decisions that we cannot ask you to make.

Remember, ARC, your purpose is to assist and protect, but that doesn't mean we are defenseless. We can fend for ourselves to a degree."

"Then what should I do?"

How was Diana supposed to know that? Even she didn't know what she should be doing until Donovan woke up. She supposed that information gathering was technically something that she could do, but right now every important decision she could possibly make would have to be in response to something.

"What do you want to do? At the moment we are in a situation where we really are not able to take action. Do you have anything you can do for fun?"

"Fun? I enjoy certain things, but I have found that most of the time that I have 'fun' whenever I am doing something for or with Donovan. The lack of a body and subsequent chemical responses makes it hard to entertain myself alone."

"What were some of the things you did together?"

"It was primarily conversation, just as we are speaking now, though watching him was intriguing as well, even in his sleep. Most of our conversations had to do with philosophy or history, though there was a healthy amount of discussion about military doctrine and tactics as well."

"Was there anything besides that? Anything you did for him that was not only out of duty?"

ARC's response was delayed, its version of the classic 'hmmm'.

"I suppose the creation of a few virtual simulation models counts in that regard. Mostly to do with flight and the like."

"In that case, why don't you work on the creation of something that will keep him entertained when he wakes up. I find it highly unlikely that he will be in a state to move around freely. I personally would like it if you modeled what nature on Earth looked like. That is something that is gone now, so if I can help refine its appearance and atmosphere, it can be preserved for future generations."

- - - - -

Diana left with Mercedes in tow after she had 'gone potty' on the contraption in the corner.

It would not do to have the dog ruin the expensive interiors with her excrement.

Diana also made sure to bring with her a small packet of treats. She needed to get acquainted with this dog, and she would like it if the dog, Mercedes, began to like her quickly.

The sooner Mercedes listened, the sooner Diana could control her.

Hopefully.

Mercedes managed to walk herself back this time, following closely behind Diana with her head down and tail limp. She was still not the point of being able to jump up on the bed though, causing her to let out a pathetic whine at the foot of Donovan's bed.

Diana assisted her by pushing up on her rump.

Once up, she promptly took her place by Donovan's left leg, curling up with her back against him and her head close to his hip. She was tired, and quickly fell asleep.

Diana too got into a position to fall asleep. As before, she was seated, leaning onto the bed while holding Donovan's hand. Her touch was light, no squeezing, as a means to not cause pain.

In her sleep she dreamt, her grandfather the focus.

The memories she made in her childhood with him.

They had a dog at one point, an old boxer. It died when she was five, but she had always wanted another.

She remembered all of the strange and wacky history facts he used to tell her to start a conversation.

She remembered how hard she tried in her studies to not disappoint him, and how he took her out on a fancy dinner for finishing primary school at the top of her class.

She had many similar outings with him, always when she placed first in something. It wasn't that she placed first in everything, but she did claim the top spot in academic competitions often.

She didn't have a regular tertiary education, at that point in her life her position as a Designated Survivor was fully realized. Beyond that point her education was 'hyper-specialized' to get her to a level of proficiency in her field that would maximize the potential for survival. 'People' skills was her focus, not solely the act of interacting with others in a social environment, but understanding foreign societies, planning a diplomatic path, and identifying any potential threats or problems.

She still liked to have a weekly meal with her grandfather, a luxury granted to her under the pretext of psychological analysis and a recurring mental health check. It was to her frustration that her grandfather actually followed through with these excuses, ending with more than just a few full-blown clinical checkups after he made a note of a potential issue.

She knew he was looking out for her, no doubt extraordinarily worried for her health and safety, but she wanted that little bit of freedom in her life to be spent without analyzing or being analyzed.

It did nothing to dilute her love for him though, and as much as she wanted to resent Donovan for taking away her time with him, she could not.

Donovan was the most important part of this whole operation, and this went beyond his ability being required to actually get them to this point.

She had learned from history that diplomatic negotiations would never turn out well outside of two scenarios.

The first scenario would be that a party to a deal was receiving something of great value, either material or intellectual, that made it against their best interest to violate the agreement.

With nothing left, they had nothing to offer. That left only the second scenario.

The second scenario involved the violation of the agreement bringing a cost that made upholding it less detrimental.

While it was true that their combat power was limited, the Noah possessed the necessary functions to 'produce' military might.

She had no clue how to use a ship in a fight, much less use it effectively in a prolonged conflict. Diana was far more confident in her ability to negotiate and hold off a conflict for long enough to build up a good amount of strength if they could not borrow another's. Ultimately it was Donovan who was going to have to use that strength.

Donovan monopolizing the Doctor's time was a big part of this. He was spending so much time being trained in the art of war that the best psychologist in the solar system had to be watching over him almost constantly to guarantee that he didn't go insane from the mental load. He also had to be kept from questioning why it was exactly he was learning subjects that didn't seem to apply to his 'desired' field.

Education on fleet tactics and ship design could be justified to some degree as a prerequisite for some special position in the field, but you had to make him want to take subjects like logistics, multi fleet deployment stratagems, doctrinal development, and attritional prediction so he wouldn't get suspicious.

It took a special level of brainwashing to make him learn about land, air, and naval tactics. Truth be told those weren't even fields that had classes anymore, that information had to be assembled from scratch.

One of the frequent topics of conversation at their dinners was in regards to his mental state.

The Doctor was confident that there were some undiagnosed mental illnesses and psychological damage present in Donovan, his justification being that no healthy human could withstand intellectual and physical burdens of that level only shrug it off with an off-hand comment about how it was "kinda stressful" and yet consistently attain perfect scores.

He constantly warned her of the possibility of some sort of break once he learned the truth. She remembered vividly her Grandfather's face when warned her with a level of seriousness she had never seen before that she would have to be the one to get him under control, even if that meant she would have to use her body to do so.

She had shivered at the thought initially, but had slowly come to not care quite as much about it. The alternative was death, and she was going to end up having intercourse with him eventually, how else would they repopulate? As far as she was concerned, it could always be worse.

Donovan wouldn't win any beauty pageants, but he was definitely well within her strike zone insofar as looks were concerned.

Diana was awoken from her dreams, which at some point had progressed to a fantasy about a somewhat steamy romantic dinner with Donovan on the coast, by the low growl of a defensive canine.

Someone had entered the room, evidently to Mercedes' displeasure.

As quick as her tired body would permit, Diana raised her head and wiped some crud from her eyes. Mercedes had not moved from her position, but her ears were alert. With every breath, her growl was getting louder.

No further than five feet away from the foot of the bed, the Healer was frozen mid stride. Clearly she had approached to do something, but the sudden hostility had stopped her.

By the time Diana had registered this, Mercedes had progressed to a snarl. Slowly, she was getting up and assuming a defensive posture, placing herself between the comatose Donovan and the frightened Healer. Her lips had curled a bit to reveal her fangs, and her nostrils were flaring. The canine was tiny, still mere months old, but her teeth were sharp.

"What is it doing?" The Healer, understandably a bit shaken at this development, asked Diana a question, completely forgetting that she would not be able to understand the answer.

In response to this, Diana slowly slid into a position just to Mercedes' flank. Carefully, she put herself in Mercedes' view. Once she had a guarantee that it was only the Healer she was showing hostility towards, she approached and placed her forearm in such a way that it would retard any sudden lunging.

Slowly, she motioned for the Healer to back away, pointing to the doorway.

For the first few motions, the aggression increased, Mercedes unsure of what those motions were. Once it was clear she was backing away the growling lowered in intensity, but not before threatening with a short bark.

She was still grumbling a bit after the Healer had left the room, and she stayed at an alert position for a few minutes, but she eventually returned to her position at Don's side. Her focus was entirely on the entrance.

Diana was a little disheartened by this interaction.

On the one hand, she learned that she was not viewed as a threat by Mercedes, at the very least she was being tolerated. On the other, Diana had no way to reliably ensure she would not lash out at anyone else.

After ensuring that Mercedes would not move from her station, Diana left to address the Healer's concerns.

The Scholar had taken up position outside of the ward. He had brought a desk and some materials to write with. His presence wasn't necessary for the ship to operate in a combat environment, and he was one of the only two people who could communicate with Diana. Besides, he was more than happy to act as interpreter and liaison.

"What was it doing? Is it dangerous? Is it hurt?"

The Healer was, understandably, in a bit of a panic. A foreign creature making aggressive gestures and loud noises without her having done anything to provoke it.

"Calm down, calm down. I don't know why, but I think she is afraid of you."

The Scholar faithfully relayed her words. She assumed the original intent was also translated as Diana heard it word for word.

"Afraid? Of me? Then why didn't it run? Don't animals r-run away when they are afraid?"

"For the most part they do. However Mercedes was bred to protect. It is in her blood to protect her people. She sees you as a threat, and knows that Donovan can't protect himself, so she put her body between you. I would advise you do not make any approaches towards him."

"Then can you give him this?" She pulled out one of those beans. "The animal should be fine for a while, but the patient will need to ingest one of these every day or so until he wakes up."

Diana outstretched her hand and gave a slight nod. She would have been fine doing this if it meant she had to go so far chew it for him, though a suppository might be a bit beyond her.

"I would like to give him a physical examination, but that can wait until he wakes. Don't eat it yourself, too much causes headaches."

Evidently, she had other places to be. As soon as she said that she left for some other portion of the ship. As her mind wandered to the experiences of the previous day, she thought perhaps there was someone injured elsewhere.

"Were the noises I heard from the dog?" The Scholar, left out of the loop, wanted to understand what was going on and how he might be able to help.

"Yes. She is a bit agitated right now, so you probably shouldn't approach her. Even I am a bit nervous around her for the moment. I don't think she will lash out so long as you watch her from a distance."

"May I? I am very curious about the interactions your people have with these 'dogs'." He removed his chair from beneath his desk, dragging it along the floor. It pained Diana to see even a little bit of scratching on the pristine hardwood, but the Scholar evidently did not.

"Scholar, calm down. If you don't want her to act aggressive, you shouldn't give her an excuse. Keep your excitement in check and your motions slow and reserved. You don't have to whisper, but keep your voice soft. Once she is comfortable being around you, she might let you feed her."

"She will give me permission? If she can't speak then how will she do that?"

"Dogs are smart, her breed especially so. Since you are unfamiliar with them, I will tell you when exactly she seems willing to associate with you, but you can get a good idea when she stops acting aggressively towards you." The screeching of the chair continued. "Please, pick up the chair. That dreadful noise will do nothing to make her like you."

The Scholar bent to her demand, struggling to lift the solid wooden chair from the ground and moving it inside the ward.

Mercedes took note of him upon his entrance, it was her first time seeing him.

Owing to his distance from the bed, she had yet to start growling, but she did take the time to readjust herself. Now the front of her body was directed towards him, and her ears were alert.

No open hostility, but the threat was there.

Once again she ignored Diana, only acknowledging her existence when she offered her a handful of kibble and a piece of meat. The tail wagged a bit, but once the food was gone she returned to ignoring her.

Perhaps Mercedes might be more inclined to socialize with Diana at a different time, her priorities clearly lay with Donovan's safety.

Recognizing this, Diana busied herself with caring for Don's nutrition and sanitation. The little coffee like bean came first of course, after which she 'fed' Don some mush.

This 'feeding' consisted of little more than scooping it up with a spoon and dropping it in his mouth. Bit by bit, the natural action of the esophagus would transfer it to his stomach.

The 'spoon' she was given was not ideal for this job.

Where normally she would expect a spoon, something often used to hold liquids or loose particles, to have a somewhat deep depression, this utensil more closely represented a spatula.

Spills were frequent.

Wiping it off was easy enough though, so she wasn't complaining about that. What she was tempted to complain about was that her seat was not comfortable.

Close to a day of sitting with no cushion under her butt? Hardwood was luxurious, but it was just as it said on the tin, hard.

She was tempted to crawl into the bed with Donovan and Mercedes and get some actual sleep. The only thing preventing her from doing so was the fear of being seen as uncouth, rude, or just plain indecent.

Diana took out one of the towels from her bag and placed it under her rump. She was still content to sit and hold Don's hand.

Occasionally, she would hold a conversation with the Scholar. Sometimes she would get up and feed Mercedes, or go to the bathroom aboard the Noah.

It wasn't until the second day that Mercedes finally let her guard down towards the Scholar, her focus once again turning towards the entrance.

He expressed great pleasure at this development, but was still cautious about approaching. He had taken note of her pearly whites and decided not to chance having them dig in to his skin.

The third day saw Mercedes' second departure from Donovan's side.

She could hold her bladder no longer, and she made it known. She jumped off the bed, trotting around to where Diana was seated, and started tugging on her sleeve.

Diana escorted her back to the Noah, and let her go to the bathroom on her pad. She also took this time to feed Mercedes, shower, and change her clothes.

Mercedes took the opportunity to grab one of her chew toys and brought it back to Donovan's side.

She was no longer paying any mind to the Scholar.

"I don't think she sees you as hostile anymore. Would you like to try giving her a treat?"

"Would that be okay?" He didn't raise his voice, as per previous instruction, but it was evident from the way his ever changing eyes sparkled. He was excited, a new experience.

Diana gave him a small cube of meat, telling him to keep his hand open.

"Hold your hand out and stay there. Let her come to you. Her nose and tongue might feel a little weird, but fight the urge to make a sudden movement."

Once she determined he was in a proper position, Diana whistled shortly to get Mercedes' attention.

The very first thing that Mercedes did was make eye contact with the Scholar, which unsettled him a bit. She exhibited a level of focus he had never seen in an animal before. Admittedly, he was never one to go outside, so his interactions with them were limited. This didn't change the fact that he felt this behavior was not the norm.

Mercedes' attention was drawn to his hand after she had taken the time to smell the air. In spite of her eagerness to eat a delicious snack, she was cautious about this stranger and his intentions.

The other human trusts this thing, why?

That summed up the Mercedes' thoughts.

She could not really understand what the thing was saying, but she could vaguely tell what the other human was talking about. She had heard a few command words here and there, but Mercedes primary takeaway from Diana's body language and smell was that she was sad and stressed.

Why?

Mercedes supposed that playing along with her whims might alleviate these negative emotions, and she would get a bit of meat out of the deal. As long as it didn't put Donovan at risk and didn't harm her, she was reluctantly willing to do it.

Slowly, she got up and hopped off the bed. She walked towards him until she was about an arms length away from his hand, and started sniffing. Cautiously, she closed the final distance and ate the lump of protein in his hand.

It was delicious.

Licking his hand to get the rest of the juices and savor the aftertaste, she noticed that Diana had more of it in her own hand. She proceeded to sit down at Diana's feet and stare at her, begging for more.

Diana took turns giving her a slice herself and giving one to the Scholar, Mercedes taking her time to enjoy the new taste.

At some point, the Scholar worked up the courage to pet Mercedes. Keeping his hand in her line of sight in order to not surprise her and telegraph his intentions.

As his hand made contact with the fur on the back of Mercedes' neck, the tension left his body. He could tell she was soft, but the sensation made him more relaxed than he had any right to expect.

He then mimicked the petting motion that he had seen Diana perform.

Unfortunately, one of his long fingers drifted too close to her ear, entering the cavity.

Soon, Diana would be apologizing for the dotted V-shaped bruise on his forearm.