All For One, Kasern Season 2, Episode 1

[Kasern]

OOC: Lyrics "All For Love" Bryan Adams

When it's love you give
Then in love you live.




Bernadette's orange sunset gleams across her pale hills. In the far distance, the fire-glare of New Paris burns neon into the sky, and far over-head, a white and red gleam traces a singular orbit aound the moon.

I'll be the rock you can build on,
Be there when you're old,
To have and to hold.

But distance cities and far up orbitals mattered not to those gathered in the shelter of the small valley as the last rays of setting sun danced across fields of ripening grapes and the summer-kissed tang of growing lavendar filled the air. All that mattered to those standing together, arm in arm, side by side, was the simple grave and the marker before it.

What were words? A name, a date, a memory. Compared to all that that they had lost? What was this simple marker of metal and plas-resin, gauranteed to never fade or dull, compared to the memory of the man that they all clung to, trying to remember each moment of his time with them?

When there's love inside
Then there's a reason why.

Kasern's crew, passengers, friends, family ... stood together against her loss, finding solace in each other. And the great ship herself stood over them, black bulk against the dark hills.

In the depths of loss, one thing rises certain, rises above all others.

I'll be the wall that protects you
From the wind and the rain,
From the hurt and pain.


As long as they stand together, they are not alone.


Don't lay our love to rest
'Cause we could stand up to you test.
We got everything and more than we had planned,
More than the rivers that run the land.
We've got it all in our hands.

[Cade Quinn]

The sun had set on the somber funeral and darkness had filled the world. Kasern's cargo bay stood open, gleaming bright yellow light in a huge square. Just out of reach of that light, a yellow bonfire burned brightly.

A few dozen bottles of liquor stood open, a few more waiting to be broken out. Cade didn't move to stop the crew from imbibing. God knew they all needed to cut loose a bit after the hell of Nihalchi.

Liberty strode up the hillside, her boots nearly silent in the soft dust of the trail, her hands tucked into the pockets of her short jacket. She approached Cade and Carter with confidence, but didn't smile as she reached the men. "Both girls are on their way home. Mr. Holbrook flew out personally with his family physician. They'll... they're gonnna be messed up for a long time."

Cade nodded slowly. And how messed up was Cassie gonna be when... when... they found her? The lack of knowledge they'd been able to glean from the girls was frustrating. His eyes traced the rest of the crew, most of whom where imbibing, although his own cup stayed filled with coffee, "Zira's step-dad is sending someone out to us. Should be here before long... Seems they've got some idea what may have gone on."

Kasern's captain- Yes, he was that now- He knew it. The solid bulk of the ship at his back held him steady, served as the rock on which he could base his foundation. He wasn't leaving her again, not like that, not in command of those who weren't ready or able. Liberty, Stephen and Carter had done well enough getting to Nihalchi, but a ship needed more than an amalgamate of crew.

He took a sip of the cold coffee in his cup, "What about you, Libs?"

His sister straightened her head in that gorramed arrogant way she had, "I'm facing court martial for deserting my post."

"So, you're headed back then?" She'd thrown away her career? Everything that was so vital to her and she'd walked away from it?

Liberty was looking at Carter Goodspeed, not Cade, as she smiled, a little mischeivously, "I asked my CO what the difference in penalty was between AWOL a week and AWOL a month. Turns out... Not so much."

She was staying on a bit, then. Cade didn't speak again, but his smile felt a little less stretched. "Carter? What about you? Been through hell, of late, can't promise it's gonna get better."










OOC: Okay, I'd like at least one post from EVERYONE. :) We'll be meeting our new crew and The Red Queen very shortly!)

[Brun]

Brun Bradley paused to pour more whiskey into a cup. He didn't even know if it was his cup.

Ian was dead.

He'd sworn to protect them. Protect them all. To keep this ship safe! And why? Because they owed some rich hwun-dahn more money than they could earn. Dugan was right bastard sometimes. Hell, the man challenging his authority, thinkin' he could outdraw him. He was downright irritating.

And Kasern was a huge gaping hole without him.

Brun started to drink from the cup, belatedly remembering he didn't remember who's cup it was, and chugged straight from the bottle instead. Leaning sideways, he pushed the cup into the nearest hand, and sighed, "You think this's what Ian'd want? Us all mopin' and groanin'? Or'd he rather be dancin' and singin' and ... hell..."

"Melissa? Mel, girl, you..." He hiccupped slightly, swaying towards her, "You... when I die, you don't let no one do none of this moping stuff! You have a big ole party! Invite whores. Ian wouldn't want us to invite whores, but when I die? Invite some whores, dong ma! Promise me!"

[Zira]

She was silent. Dressed simply in her favorite green shirt and black pants, the same clothes she had worn once upon a time when they had done the Casino job. On her hip was her gun on her right side, one of Ian's guns on her left. She didn't know what one it was, just that it was his. And that she was going to learn how to shoot it.

"You think this's what Ian'd want? Us all mopin' and groanin'? Or'd he rather be dancin' and singin' and ... hell..."

Zira batted away the cup, spilling some of it, okay, most of it, on the ground. "We'll never ruttin' know, will we now?" she almost growled out. She had changed since...since it happened. After spending time in Aux Control, crying her eyes out, she had no more tears. And the little that she did have she didn't let through, closing off from everyone

After emerging from Control, she had moved what had been in his room to her own, making room for the new people that had come in.

And then came the funeral.

And drinking.

Lots of drinking to forget and to remember at the same time.

[Ben]

Ben didn't understand the grownups one tiny bit. Just because Ian had gone Elsewhere didn't mean they had to mope around for days on end or have special ceremonies for him. It made no sense to sit around feeling bad about something they couldn't change. People just went Elsewhere sometimes, and when it was your time, you would too. That's was just the way the world worked. No one among the whitecoats ever got so much attention when they went Elsewhere, even if it was terrible and bloody. It just made no sense.

Ben had snuck a little taste of the gross drink that some of the grownups were drinking... it tasted like pure evil and burned his mouth and belly. It made him understand the big'uns even less... Were they really punishing themselves? Why would they willingly keep drinking something so vile?

Sitting dejectedly off to one side of the mopey group, Ben flicked his tongue against a tooth that was coming loose, pushing it out and then in again. It would fall out soon... that would be entertainment for at least a little while. Staring at the bonfire, bored face resting on outstretched palm, Ben sighed.

When were they gonna go do something fun?

[Dahlia Brennan]

It was unfair. Everything about this was unfair from the funeral, to the liquor, to the sadness in everyone around her. Forty-eight hours ago, the fight was over, the crew was coming back, the captain surprised her in the oddest and also the nicest possible way. She didn't know then. She didn't have the slightest idea what had happened. And how could she? She was on the bridge the entire time, doing her tinniest of parts. She remembered the mysterious girl then, the Blue Kitten, and hoped that at least she was able to leave the battle safe. At least that would bring Dahlia some peace of mind.

"You think this's what Ian'd want? Us all mopin' and groanin'? Or'd he rather be dancin' and singin' and ... hell..."
"We'll never ruttin' know, will we now?"

The blond forger wasn't always the one for interaction with others or spending her time with the crew on a daily basis, which had nothing to do with the fact that she didn't care for them. But now, in the light of everything that took place just forty-eight hours ago, it seemed so much easier if she was around people. It was hard for her to believe a member of the crew was gone. She couldn't really say she knew much about the crew. She didn't even know all of them. But a few of them, she had grown particularly fond of. Ian Dugan was one of them. And now, he was gone. And it was the strangest of feelings. Dahlia graced at little Ben for a second as she searched her own feelings, trying to understand how she felt. She liked ian, she really did like him, as well as his style and the love he held for this ship. But Dahlia had never known to grieve for anyone she cared for. She was child when her father told her that her mother had died, so it was more an acceptance then an actual grieving process. No, truthfully, Dahlia Brennan had no idea how to grieve for someone she cared about.

When Brun spoke, she glanced at him from where she had been leaning, close to the back of the cargo. He had a point. Perhaps Kassie's miracle worker wouldn't want them moping. She gently touched the metal wall of the ship. "It's ok, girl. We'll take care of you." She whispered to the wall and for some unknown reason, she really believed that the ship had heard her. But when Zira, their first mate practically growled out, she twitched as she looked at her. The captain's XO didn't look good.

She hadn't brought herself to touch any of the liquor yet. She never really had a taste for drinking. She understood that some of them had only that way of dealing with this and she didn't think of even stopping them. But she herself did not dabble into the alcohol. Wearing a pear of blue jeans and a gray long sleeved sweater, the female hacker looked at the group of people she knew she would never leave willingly, and felt their pain surge through her body like the liquor a lot of them were taking in. She knew the taste of the hard stuff, she knew the smell of the sweet stuff. But all she could really feel right now was the burning sensation in her throat. And somehow, she knew that even the ship was feeling her crew's pain and sorrow right now, despite what Brun had been telling them about what they should be doing or despite Zira's angry reply.

[Claudia James]

Claudia sat in a folding chair by the fire wearing a pair of soft, black trousers that didn't belong to her, an dark blue knitted sweater that wasn't hers and a pair of slippers she had found along with the other clothing items, lying on a counter in the infirmary along with a note telling her that they were hers to use as she pleased. She was grateful for whoever had left the clothes – the note hadn't been signed – but she found herself already missing the comfort of her own leather jacket, the one she had worn every day since Stan had given it to her as a sign that she was a proper member of Molly Marie's crew.

Her left arm was in a sling and feeling numb from whatever drug the doctor had given her, and she held a mug of liquor in her right hand, while staring into the fire, half listening to the voices of the people nearby. She couldn't keep her mind of her boys, Alastair especially, finding that she missed them now more than ever, feeling a strange sense of envy and jealousy toward the crew of Kasern. At least they were able to bury their lost mechanic, say goodbye to him together. She had neither grave markers for her boys, nor anyone to remember them with.

A tear slipped down her cheek and she raised the mug to drink, covering the bitter expression on her face. She really should have left, gone to the nearest city and gotten on a shuttle back home... Home? Where was home anyway? Not Bellerophon where she had buried her mother barely a week ago. Not Eavesdown where she had an apartment. No, her home had been destroyed by an Alliance missile more than eight years ago over Verbena. She looked around her, wondering how close the crew of Kasern were, whether they considered themselves family and their ship home. She thought that was probably the case and that only made her feel so much more the outsider, intruding on something they were all sharing, something she had no part in.

Still, after what had happened on Nihalchi, she was reluctant to leave. Reluctant to go back to the empty flat at Eavesdown with its glaring reminders that she was alone with only her Cortex boards and connections to prove she was alive. She had tasted life and death on Nihalchi and realised that she didn't want to die alone. Now wasn't the time to ask if she could stay, though, but no one had asked her to leave or go with those other girls they had brought with them from the camp. So she sat by the fire, drinking to the memory of Molly Marie's boys, eight years delayed, letting the tears slip unhindered down her cheeks now.

[Melissa Wu]

Since the news of Ian's death, Melissa had been less cheery and enthusiastic as of late. Sure she still smiled and was somewhat bubbly at times, but it wasn't the same. Ian was a nice guy and she liked him. She felt sorry for Zira and her loss, but she was afraid to try and console the woman who still gave Melissa an unfriendly feeling.

Currently she sat at the table next to Brun with her head resting on her arms, gazing at the cup in front of her. Her raven black hair tied back into a ponytail with a pink scrunchy. She wore her navy blue jumpsuit that had the white anime style rabbit patch on the left front near her abdomen, and her black work boots with pink laces. It was the same outfit she wore when she visited Harrow's estate to install the security system he wanted. A tear started to fall from her cheek and she wiped it on her sleeve before returning her gaze to her cup.


"You think this's what Ian'd want? Us all mopin' and groanin'? Or'd he rather be dancin' and singin' and ... hell..."


The sound of a cup being batted away and falling onto the floor caused Melissa to avert her eyes from her cup and roll her head in the direction of the sound. She wasn't too surprised to see Zira being grouchy. She had every right to be and Melissa didn't blame her one bit.


"We'll never ruttin' know, will we now?"


Melissa watched as Zira left and went back to watching her cup. It was still half filled with whiskey, but she had lost track of how long it was sitting there and how many cups she had. All she knew was that when she was finished with one cup, it refilled as if by magic and that was good enough for her.


"Melissa? Mel, girl, you..."


"Yeah? Melissa asked in a far off sounding tone. She was now slowly rotating her cup with one hand while resting her head on her other arm.


"You... when I die, you don't let no one do none of this moping stuff! You have a big ole party! Invite whores. Ian wouldn't want us to invite whores, but when I die? Invite some whores, dong ma! Promise me!"


"Don'ts worry, Bruns." she said, half asleep from the effects of the alcohol in her system. "I'lls get yous the sluttiest, big boobiests whores you coulds shake a sticks at."

[Dog McO'River]

Dog watched wordlessly as Brun and Melissa exchanged drunken ramblings, the ex-soldier himself sipping occasionally from an unmarked bottle. As full of tumult as he was, he had no real desire to get drunk. He had tried that for a small time after the war, and had found it didn't do much, unless it was done to death.

He had tried other things for that.

Wiping his mouth, Dog remembered when he had first seen Kasern's engineer, what seemed years ago at the Heart's card tournament, that thief lying shot and dead by Ian's hand. Dog remembered arriving too late, then thinking that the same end had been achieved regardless of Dog catching the thief.

And there was the fresh, brutal memory of Nihalchi, the slaughtered pig, the carnage, the blood, Ian's limp body...it was the closest thing to the war and the valley that Dog had experienced since. A display of man's true inhumanity, spelled out in gore and death and primal killing.

Dog went to drink from the bottle again, and noticed he had emptied it. Squinting slightly, he thought maybe getting drunk wasn't such a bad idea. With a glance, Dog confirmed that Zira certainly approved of it. Or he could just wake up in the middle of the night, head wracked with nightmares, and put a loaded gun in his mouth until he calmed down enough to resolve himself to the nightmares.

He cracked another bottle, consigning himself to at least dull his senses a little bit more. He wouldn't forget Ian or Nihalchi no matter how many bottles he opened or glasses he emptied. He wouldn't forget how he had almost fallen for the primitive allure of the savage moon, and he would not forget that they still had one girl left to find.

"I'm out," he said to no one in particular, taking his body and bottle to be around the bonfire. His thoughts, however, remained at the table wondering how and if the empty space would be filled.

[Stephen Carpenter]

The drinking wasn't smart, particularly for either of them. Still, Garret seemed to know better than to open his mouth as Stephen poured himself another mugful. The alcohol burned dully on its way down his throat, a welcome feeling in the moment, the pilot's mind reeling. Ian was gone. He'd seemed just as much a fixture of the ship as the engine itself. Now, there was no going back, no returning to the time before Nihalchi, the time before Santo. Stephen let his dark eyes flick to examine Garret. The hacker was lounging across from the fire, seeming uncaring if not for his own eyes regularly slipping towards the ship's pilot. He felt his friend taking note, counting the bottles that had been opened, working the math to determine just how much he'd imbibed. As if Garret didn't trust him to keep track. Did he want to?

Taking another swig, ignoring the look in Garret's eyes, Stephen pushed the thought away and let his eyes roam the area. Everyone was nearby, Zira still wrapped in her grief, Brun slowly getting drunker and drunker with Melissa right on his heels, Ben looking mystified but keeping quiet, Cade watching them all, not speaking out against anyone's actions tonight. What would happen next? Ian was gone. Who else might vanish, gunned down in a fight or gutted, poisoned or killed in some fiery shuttle crash? What would happen to Kasern now?

The thought was downright sobering as the pilot's eyes again moved across the fire to Garret. Possibilities rolled through his head as the hacker met his gaze for the second time. A faint flicker of something - alarm? worry? - crossed the hacker's face before he rose and circled the fire, sitting beside Stephen. So difficult to watch his approach and not smile, though he had no idea what was so funny. Still, as Garret sat beside him, put his hand on the pilot's cheek, and guided his head down to his shoulder, arm draping around the fitter body, Stephen felt himself relax, closing his eyes.

"You're drunk, bao-bei." Garret's voice was a teasing whisper, his breath hot. He was careful to keep his tone light, careful not to reveal how much it had scared him to see Steve get lost in his thoughts, his eyes looking dark and empty as the inside of a grave. "I am not." The insistence was weak, unsure. "I want some more," he requested simply. The mug slipped out of his hands before he could find a firm hold on it. Gorram thing was slippery.

"I've got it. Here." Without complaint, keeping his tone just upbeat enough, Garret placed his own still full cup into the pilot's hands. He'd seen Steve drunk before and while the results were often hilarious, this seemed to be a good time to keep him in check and content for as long as possible. Settling in, Garret resumed his role as the outsider, the watcher, once more, keeping his arm around Steve. He knew not to say anything when a few drops of moisture hit his shirt. Instead, he rubbed the pilot's back, humming softly and tunelessly.

[Brun]

"Don'ts worry, Bruns. I'lls get yous the sluttiest, big boobiests whores you coulds shake a sticks at."

"Aw, Mel!" Brun threw a sloppy arm around the girl and drew her into a manly one-armed hug, his voice echoing over the small clearing, "Yer the best friend a man could ever have! An'... An when you die, I'll return the favor! Man whores, though. Nice ones. With good teeth and... manners..."

... and stuff..."


And...what did women look for in a man anyway? Money? Rich men didn't do you good when you were dead. Hell, Brun thought with a groan as he glanced around the crew, they didn't do you good when you were alive. Took what you didn't have, and handed ya back things you didn't need.

"Not like Dog." Brun waved at the man as he moved towards the bonfire..."Ones who..." Have earlobes. "Smile. And... Dahlia! Dahlia, com'n here and get some of this."

Even a man so drunk as he knew when to shut his gorram mouth. The burly man waved his bottle one handed, "It's good stuff. Or...no. It's really bad, but you drink a bit and ya can't even tell it's rot!"

[Romulus]

Romulus was dry-eyed when he lit another cigar from the a coal at the edge of the fire, smiling as he taught Delilah how to spell rude words in a cupful of dirt from the edges of the fire, but it was strained. Not up to even his usual standards.

He shifted at Zira's outburst, unable to leave but equally certain he shouldn't stay and watch her explode, because she was going to. Either that or she'd wake up tomorrow and act perfectly fine. Calm. Right. And she'd be giving herself a nice, healthy crop of ulcers, too, just like the rest of them.

Grimacing, Romulus looked away. He could just see Saskia and Lance as silhouettes whispering together at the edge of the fire. He couldn't make out what they were saying, not with Melissa and Brun being drunk at each other, but he could make an educated guess.

Everyone else seemed be looking for the hidden message at the bottom of their cups -find three and win a prize!- and godspeed to 'em. Perfectly reasonable reaction, traditional even, and he'd be right there alongside them, but with two patients just out of surgery and a drunken joyride just waiting to happen, he figured it'd be best to be sober and clean as a parson's daughter, at least for now.

He was thinking he'd want to be, too. Looking at Cade, he got the feeling something was up.

[Delilah Vass]

Delilah sniffled at she doodled in the dirt with Romulus, cheeks red, her good white dress covered in grass and dirt, but Mim was having a grown-up discussion with Lance and wasn't looking, so she couldn't yell when Delilah started sucking her thumb a little bit.

By the time she learned how to spell 'urethra' her tummy felt a little better, but it still felt like she had bunny rabbits in there instead of Aphrodite, or her coin, anyway, like the one Ian had put on the engine, and she'd loved him, and he'd left. She wanted him to come back.

It-

It wasn't fair, not at all, and it made Zira cry and-

"We'll never ruttin' know, will we now?"

That, hearing Zira swear, scared her more than anything, more than seeing Bitte Terry making Brun's shirt rose red, more than seeing Ian put in a box forever and ever, and she burst into tears.

"Don't cryin'," she begged, scooted over and wrapped Zira in a hug, Zira's cheek next to hers as she bent a little, wet and hot with her own tears. "I c'n spell urethra."

[Dahlia Brennan]

Dahlia hadn't moved from her position against the metal war. She only kept observing the room, the people, the liquor. She turned her focus back to Brun and Melissa when she replied to his question, telling him what kind of after-death ceremony he would half. Smiling a tinny bit, she leaned her head against the wall only to hear Dog talking about going out out and soon distant voices of Stephan and his friend Garret which didn't really interest her all that much.

"Smile. And... Dahlia! Dahlia, com'n here and get some of this."

But it was Brun that caught her attention once again when he called out her name inviting her to join them in drinking. It was not Dahlia's first choice, it would never be. She was not one for drinking. Yet this was a different kind of situation, even more so, someone dear to her and someone who was always kind to her had invited her so how could she refuse him.

Pushing herself away from the wall gently, she slowly walked over to Bradley and Melissa and sat close to them. Only then did she fully see how drunk Brun already was. Still, she did not blame him just equally as she had joined them and accepted that she took would take some of the alcohol they were taking in.

"It's good stuff. Or...no. It's really bad, but you drink a bit and ya can't even tell it's rot!"

He had waved his bottle as he told her about the liquor. First he said it was bad, then corrected himself to how bad it really was but after drinking a while, she would forget this. She hoped so. At least for the part about forgetting how bad it was. Taking a new glass she took another bottle that was also open. She would have taken the one he had suggested but as he was still holding it, she decided not to take it from him. After pouring it, she placed the bottle back down and picked up the glass.

The forger was hesitating. She had a tongue in the worst of situation, she dangled with technology and systems she could go to prison for a very very long time and yet here she was, staring into a small glass filled with a muddy looking supstance and she was hesitating to taste it. Well, she knew the taste it would leave in her mouth and she knew the sensation it would give her in her throat. She also knew that if she took this one, she would take another and then another. And so on, until she could really get to what Brun had told her. Until she couldn't even tell it was so bad. But most of all, now she was willing to forget she had lost a member of her family.

Glancing behind her, she saw him just standing there. He was talking to his sister. He wasn't looking her way. Dahlia wondered if Cade was no the captain, the grieving friend, the worried brother or was he just a man at this very moment. Turning her back to him again, she looked at her glass again. "Bottoms up." She told to herself most of all as she looked at Brun and brought the glass to her mouth and drank the entire substance of the glass. She held it in her mouth for only a second before she let it ride down her throat, then through her suffecus then to her very stomach. Slowly, she felt the bitter taste of it, the warm sensation in her throat and reminded herself of Brun's words. But you drink a bit and ya can't even tell it's rot! She reached down for the bottle again and poured in another dosage of the 'really bad' stuff as Bradley had said it was.

[Zira]

There was something about a little one telling her that she could spell medical terms that you couldn't help but laugh at. She remembered her ma teaching her words like defenestration when she was little.

Being comforted by a tiny girl who barely came up to her waist?

That was something that made her begin to cry again. "Best not let your mim know that you know that one," she told Delilah through the tears that hadn't listened to her and were slowly falling. "I'll try my best not to cry for you," she promised both to the littlest crew member and to herself.