Nature of the Beast
One-Shot Series: First Star I See Tonight
One-Shot: What's in a Name?
*Very short. Zodiac's perspective only.
A ship.
She finally had a ship of her own. And a budding crew. Just four for now, but there was no rush to gather a crew within the deca-cycle.
She wasn't even that great with other 'bots, and yet they were sending her applications at least four times a cycle – five on a good cycle. She dismissed some of them as idle curiosity. Seeing a Predacon in charge of a prototype ship straight from the Crystal City docks was, she had to guess, a novelty. 'Bots were intrigued. They wanted to see the ship, and her. She smiled as she read through another application. They weren't even that subtle about it. None of them were hateful though – none that got past Rampart and Jackdaw anyway. Just wanted a look. That was all. When they got that look and she explained why she'd gotten the ship, they were satisfied and left. There was no ticking chronometer to get a crew together. Only once she had a full assembly of the basics would she be allowed on her first mission.
A ship.
She finally had a ship of her own.
She, a Predacon. A "wild animal."
That thought hadn't yet processed as she'd flown through the halls three solar cycles ago. Its practical halls. Its blank halls.
That was, the Artist had argued, a problem. This vessel would be her vigvul savk when out in the expanse – it could not be one looking the way it was now. The ship had to be made a friend, not a mere acquaintance. But that was a problem easily remedied with some help from him and a few of her tribe mates. Much as she had wanted to protest that he didn't need to go to the trouble, she found herself agreeing with him. The blank walls did nothing to make it feel like a home. The ship was distant to her. A stranger. Hers, but not hers. So he had brought Skyshine, Nightscream, Warsong, Oratorio, and Gospel to add some life into the ship, and her tribe mates had scattered throughout its insides to give it some personality while she worked on sorting through applications and conducting interviews – with Jackdaw's help for the latter. Meeting with a former Academy classmate was different than meeting a stranger.
"Think this one's a keeper?" she asked. "She's...interesting. And fits my criteria. Pseudo-beast. Translvoid."
Jackdaw took the datapad from her, scrutinized it, grinned, and agreed. She needed a Communications Officer, and this "Shatterveil" would be the perfect addition to a Sky Painter's crew. Talking in verse and being skilled in spectroscopy – would wonders never cease? That mini-con partner of hers would be handy, too. Hearsay. He chuckled. That little bugger (pardon the pun he grinned) would be interesting to work with.
"Whats about that other pal of yours – "Simba" I thinks you called him?"
"I already accepted him. HETI doesn't like groundbridges too much, so he's driving instead. He should be here tomorrow or the cycle after. Last he checked in with me he was halfway between Tyger Pax and Kaon."
Her lieutenant nodded.
She went back to the applications. Security officers were next on the list. She had one already, but a prototype vessel like this needed some extra protection in her opinion. Her new chief engineer wouldn't have it any other way.
It had taken them a mere few joors to decorate around the port holes that peeked outside with decorate techno-floral patterns. It had only taken the busy birds two solar cycles to add a few murals to the halls containing the crew quarters, and to add abstract art to the door of her own quarters. After meeting the four current members of her crew, Skyshine had made a few calls over the ship's comm. relays. Holo-stills would be sent in from Vignette and her fellow holo-artists – making sure the images were of the now five crew members' home cities. Some canvases were brought in, too, and metal hangings to adorn the walls of the occupied crew quarters. Rooms presently unoccupied they left untouched, but the Artist promised that once they were occupied they would visit again and provide them the same service.
The ship started to feel more like her own when ceilings of certain halls were decorated in glowing pigments meant to mimic the stars above, streaming down their lengths like jeweled rivers and splashing onto the upper walls. Constellations – the Forge, the Key, the Beast, the Time-Keeper, the Warden, the Seeker – flowed along through the stellar waters.
But there was still something missing. The ship had a hole in its essence, the Artist insisted, and it needed filling. Their works had not filled it.
Fed up with scouring over applications and interviewing for the fourth cycle in a row, and having accepted the remaining applicants, she acquired some projectors from a local crafter and set to work on a project of her own. Inspired by the efforts out in the halls, she began to install the projector of the night sky onto the ceiling of the bridge, tucked into a corner out of ready sight, and connected to the ship's visual arrays for a live-time feed. It felt right to have the stars right where she could see them whenever she looked up. An Avioid never did well unless they could see the sky, and being confined within the ship for extended periods during missions – maybe this would help keep the claustrophobia at bay until missions led her planet-side onto a new world.
The better the accuracy, she muttered as her tiny hands tinkered with the settings, the better the chance of being fooled.
The bridge doors hissed open to permit her alpha. He looked up at her. Tall and imposing as the Avioid mech was, there was a fond smile on his lip-plates.
"Clever," he applauded, "but can that device mimic the song of the stars?"
She dropped down, "I'm sure Shatterveil can work something out through the ship's electromagnetic detectors. White noise from the CMB has to be filtered, of course, but that's easy."
He smiled softly and bowed his helm. He did not doubt she would. The niv'ytlo was wise.
"There's a void on the ship we can't seem to fill," he said suddenly. "I'm thinking you know it's nature."
"A name," she answered. "My ship needs a name. I know."
"Thought of any yet?"
She nodded, "I was talking with Corona the other cycle, in between interviews. She pointed out the...erm...unusual nature of my crew. None of them are exactly normal. Translvoid who speaks in verse. Ophidian swearing machine. Helmsmech with a speech impairment. Ex-cop. Former pit-fighter. Blind Fauxline. Aquatronian colonial. Crazy Petauroid who can't shut up. Y'know. 'Bots who don't fit in. So, I had my new historian – his name's Codex – do what he does best: research. I gave him some search algorithms to make it easier on him. Difference. Oddity. Sky. Space. He found some entries about an Iatakoran deity, Tieyei, who's supposed to be a god of lightning and a patron of social outcasts."
"I see," the Artist smiled. "And the name of the ship?"
"Before I tell you, could you help me relief carve an image of Tieyei on the bridge doors? Just you. I have the general design."
The Artist agreed, and together they stepped outside. Using a light-streamer, she outlined the basic idea – and, more importantly, her artistic image of the old deity. Her alpha nodded approval. He drew his weapon of choice: a photonic incisor.
"Let's get to work, then!"
Within a meager few breems, one half of the deity's owlish, feather-tufted head began to emerge from the metal on one side of the door.
The night.
That was how long carving the twin, mirror images had taken. But, looking at it from a dozen paces back, she couldn't help grinning and squealing at the end result. It was exactly what she'd been going for. Tieyei's tufted, owlish head, mouth-less and mute. His long neck creating a small arc like he was bowing. His smaller reptilian eyes like tiny black holes watching the doors and those who approached. His long, half serpent and half dragon body covered in feathers, and a somehow feline, avian, and reptilian tail curled downward. His avian but furry and feline talons clasping at the door to either seal it shut or open it. Just a carving anyone would say. But there was a power in it that she could feel – like a surge through the air, it made her mesh tingle.
"So?" the Artist pressed. "What're you naming the ship?"
She stepped forward without a word in edgewise. Her tiny, slender digits traced the lightning bolts that crashed around the deity in mirror before her.
"The Tieyeian Bolt," she murmured.
The ship seemed to growl in pleasure at the name, and the once foreign and cold halls felt warmer. The Artist's smile was broad when she looked back. He put one hand over his chassis and bowed.
"Then let it be my pleasure to address you first as the captain of the Tieyeian Bolt."
Her hand traced the images on the doors once more.
Tieyei.
The relief had worn down a few mircons since its creation – she'd have to clean the carvings up soon – leaving once harsh angles smoother, but that power in his name was was still there, surging from the deity in mirror on the doors and into the air, but he was tame now – a patient but powerful bouncer rather than a ferocious guardian spirit.
Tieyei.
God of lightning among the dead Iatakora, Codex had said he was all those cycles ago, and a guardian of social outcasts.
Frisk's voice broke the moment, *Captain? Your XB applicant is here,* a pause. *And poking me and everything else she can get her pincers on.*
She snorted. Codex might as well just label him what he really was on this ship: the protector of quirky weirdos.