Juan Cabrillo dislike leaving his ship, but it was necessary. Sometimes. Also, he never sent his employees and crewmates into a situation that he would not go himself.
Nevertheless, that didn't mean there weren't some things he hated. Going in with very little intelligence was one.
As his Berretta REC7's muzzle crept around the corner, he saw something that puzzled him.
Not letting his guard down, he sent another team out to clear the surrounding areas; when they reported that everything was clear, he stepped into the room.
Lowering his weapon, he investigated what appeared to be a young girl, in her mid-teens, beaten and bruised so badly that there was hardly a part of her face that wasn't purple or bleeding. Pressing index and middle fingers to the girl's neck, Franklin Lincoln, one of the Corporation's gundogs, essentially combat fighters, determined that she was alive.
He, Cabrillo, and the rest of their team surveyed the destruction and carnage, which had all of the men gagging.
Bodies were scattered around the room, and the stench of burned and rotting flesh was faint, thankfully; due to the ventilation fans that whirred overhead.
The corpses were covered in third- and fourth-degree burns over much of their bodies, and what wasn't burned had had tortures visited upon it that made Cabrillo wince, and strengthened his resolve to figure out what was going on.
9A0
The girl awoke in the medical ward.
Julia Huxley, the resident and only ship-board doctor, rushed out her office when she heard the machines chattering. Chattering because they were being removed from the girl.
"What are you. . .?" Huxley started, and then rushed back to her office to tell Cabrillo what was happening.
It seemed that almost as soon as she had put down the phone, the chairman had appeared in the doorway.
And then stopped.
"What do you think you're . . .? Hux, what did you do to her?" he asked, striding forward and pulling up a seat.
"Nothing," she responded, and stared. Where previously her face had been covered in stitches and bandages and bruises and wounds, now there were just stitches and scars and pale skin and blood. Lots of blood.
"Where are you going?" he asked, not unkindly. The girl glared up at him.
"Coming from that hell-hole, I wake up in a sterile white room, on a ship traveling at speed judging by the rocking motion, and am subsequently accosted by a dude that looks like a surfer with a gun but who has the hard, flinty look of someone who's had to do things," she said, "so how do you think I might feel? Though I am appreciative of the fact that you didn't try to cuff me."
Juan turned to Huxley, his eyes asking, didn't you sedate her? And she gave an infinitesimal shrug, responding equally silently, I did. They both hesitated, and they turned to the girl.
"Do you think you're up for answering some questions?" he asked, and she nodded.
"What's your name?"
"Don't have one. What's yours?"
"Well, my name is Juan Cabrillo and this is Doctor Julia Huxley, our ships sawbones. What—"
"what ship is this?"
"the—"
"I would advise not lying to me."
"This is the Oregon, a vessel of . . . unusual capabilities. If I may ask, how did you recover so quickly?"
"magic."
". . ."
"Not kidding you, though the real answer is a somewhat advanced metabolism."
"majic?"
"No, not majestic, you idiot, though if I were you, and knew what you knew, then I'd be glad I'm living on a ship. Though I still wouldn't drink the water."
"Magick?"
"No, magic."
". . . You're joking."
"Does it look like I'm smiling?"
"I'm serious now, where do you think you're going? Even with your. . . magic, or enhanced metabolism, or whatever you want to call it, where are you going?"
"To explore your ship. You don't need to give me permission."
9A0
The girl's blonde hair swung in arcs across her back as she strode through the ship.
Finally, she reached what looked like a dead-end corridor and stopped. Muttering angrily, she raised a fist and punched it out of her way.
"What the hell are you?" Juan asked, a touch of fear in his voice.
"Don't be scared, my friend. If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead," she said, in an eerily sweet voice.
Stepping into fresh air, the pair – they had left the doctor back in medical – continued along the perimeter of the ship, until they had walked a hundred yards from the wreckage of the door.
That'll be an expensive fixing, Juan thought, but his attention was distracted by the girl as she turned to face him: her face was layered in scars that testified to a long and hard life. He himself was covered in scars, none of them that he regretted, but this girl had lived far more than several life-times to acquire these markings.
"Reject only your ignorance and you may survive."
"What do you mean by that? Reject my ignorance?"
"Exactly what you'll need to do. Remember, confront which frightens or offends you; reckless or insulting talk should never go unchallenged."
"It sounds like you're pulling quotes out of your hat."
"I am. But this isn't a quote."
And the world dissolved into a kaleidoscope of colors, eventually coruscating into black.
9A0
"Hey, dude, wake up!"
Juan snapped to alertness, his eyes instantly taking in what his situation was: Blonde kid, holding a sword and shield, neither of which was pointed at him. The kid looked a little nervous, and indeed Cabrillo had almost hit the kid.
"Um, dude, you know this is the everfree (AN: sorry, couldn't remember :S) forest? What are you doing sleeping-" he cut himself off when a redheaded girl walked into the little clearing Cabrillo and the boy were in. Her gaze was flinty, and she carried a round shield, made of what looked like bronze, and a short spear.
Juan got to his feet, and the girl and boy turned towards each other, and held a whispered conversation. After half a minute, they turned around and addressed Juan.
"Sir, could you please come with us?"
"Why?"
They obviously hadn't anticipated this response. The blonde tried this time.
"Because . . . we asked?"
Cabrillo had opened his mouth to reply when he felt something behind him. The kids' expressions told him to be very afraid, and he turned around. Very slowly.
"What's this big black thing standing here?"
Then it roared.