The Captain and Vicar trudge up the weathered metal ramps of the Cascadia landing pad, panting, covered in a noticeable layer of dirt and animal blood.
The young woman stops at the middle landing, leaning heavily against the railing, forcing hard breaths through her dry nose.
The Vicar shuffles past her plopping down on the nearest crate, resting his head against the side of the lone computer terminal. The old man gulps down mouthfuls of air, wondering why he's more winded than he usually is. "Are you…ready," he asks between heavy breaths.
Still peeved at loosing in a paper, rock, scissors match, she closes her eyes, massaging her temples. "No. This is still…a terrible idea."
He limply waves her negativity away. "Not everyone…is close-minded. Have some faith…in the human side of science."
She peers over her shoulder, brow knit, and a stern frown planting itself on her dry lips. "I've seen people…loose their entire livelihoods…for less."
The old man chuckles to himself, as a particularly old memory jabs at his pride. "You know better than anyone that fear shouldn't stop you from achieving your goals." He drags himself to his tired feet, and waves her toward the Unreliable. "We can do this, Vicar. Up and at 'em."
The two limp up the ramp and inside the cool metal ship interior.
"You call the meeting," the Vicar tells her crossing into the kitchen and plopping down into the nearest kitchen chair, resting his head on the dingy plastic tabletop. "I'm dying all over." The Vicar finally catches his breath, his whole body rebelling against any movement beyond the occasional twitch of a finger or toe.
The young Captain rolls her eyes taking her own seat. "You're not dying, you've just overworked your muscles. We did just run all the way back to the ship across miles of wilderness."
Felix strolls into the kitchen. "Hey, Boss." His cheerful timber hardens as he sees the old man with his head down on the table top. "Vicar." The young man opens the overhead cabinets and stares at the dented cans.
"I'm calling a crew meeting Mister Millstone," the young lady informs him as he pulls down a can of Boarst N' Beans. "Please gather everyone into the kitchen."
"Parvati," he yells down the hall cracking open the can.
The goggled head of the resident engineer pokes out of her quarters after the noises and moving instruments quiets down. "Whatcha need, Felix? Oh! Hi, Captain."
"I'm calling a meeting, Miss Holcomb, where's Miss Ramnarie-Wentworth and Miss Fenhill?"
"Nyoka said she was going to go hunt for a bit, since we're not leaving anytime soon."
"Did she say she where on Monarch she was going?"
Parvati's pursed lips pull into a gentle frown as she tries to recall the conversation. After a moment, shakes her head. "I don't know exactly. She was slurring some of her words, so Miss Ellie decided to follow her."
The older man's laugh is muffled inside his arms.
The Captain shoots him a dirty look before thanking Parvati.
Her head disappears back around the door frame and the sounds of electrical tinkering commence once more.
The exhausted Vicar lifts his head, quietly laughing at her with his smarmy smile. "Since we're going to have to wait on the other two, you should go take a bath, you stink."
The young woman takes a few sniffs of her borrowed body, grimacing. "You're not wrong."
He shrugs, the ache in his shoulders returning. "I sweat a lot."
She looks toward the bathroom door, her face gently pinching at the thought of having to shower in her current state.
"If it makes you feel any better, you have my permission to look." The old man pulls a face as he tries to roll the aches out of his broad shoulders.
"It doesn't." The young woman gets up from her seat, making her way to the stairs. "You're not my type anyway." She heads to the last door on the right, clicking on the light in the small bathroom as she locks it behind her.
The sore old man musters a weak laugh, cradling his now throbbing head in his hands. Felix scraping the bottom of an empty can sets his teeth on edge as the dull pain pounds at the back of his tired eyes.
"Hey, Vic, I got a question." He lays the can sideways on the edge of the counter, unable to find the garbage can for the kitchen.
"Yeah?" He squeezes his eyes open and shut a few times.
"Why are you and the Captain pretending to be each other?"
He half turns in his chair, trying to ignore the coming migraine. "Why do you ask?"
The young man shrugs, a note of concern flitting across his face. "Ellie said you and the Captain were playing at something. She said it was getting kind of weird."
"Ellie's concerned now?" A dread feeling prods at his chest. "She usually doesn't give a care one way or another unless she thinks its serious."
His nose wrinkles and his mouth pulls into a soft frown. "You do sound weird."
"I'd better tell him after his shower." The older man gets up from his seat, heading for the stairs at the end of the narrow hall.
Following a bout of awkward washing in a hot shower, the Captain enters her quarters, towel wrapped firmly around her damp body, finding the Vicar flat on her bunk with a pillow over his face. Her natural perceptiveness gives her the impression of extreme discomfort and pain. "You're getting headaches too, I see."
"My head is pounding out a Samba," comes the muffled retort of her shipmate. "I can't concentrate and everything is blurry around the edges."
"Is the pain radiating towards the neck and shoulders?"
The Vicar grumbles an affirmative.
The abundant medical information swimming around her head points to a severe migraine that may eventually put him in the hospital if it keeps getting worse. The young woman holds her towel in place, pushing over the man's hand as she takes a seat next to him. "Sit up."
He follows her instruction, dry heaving as he stays hunched over.
She reaches behind him, placing a hand on each shoulder and does her best to massage the knots out.
As the pain ebbs from his forehead, the Vicar relaxes, leaning into the long dainty fingers at the base of his skull.
One of the Captain hands slowly move up to the top of his head, and the other lays across his chin.
"What are you—" His neck is twisted sharply to one side. It gives a shark crack as the muscles of his shoulders begin to relax.
"Better," she asks, adjusting her towel as she stands back up.
The migraine in his shoulders is almost non-existent. "I feel better, thanks Vicar." He sees what was once himself in a towel and gets uncomfortable at the mental disconnection from what is both himself and not himself at the same time. "Can you put some clothes on? Looking at you like this doesn't…feel right."
"It's your body." She folds her arms across her chest. "You can't seriously be telling me you're ashamed to look at yourself."
"It's not modesty, it's…" he tries to grasp at the threads of what he felt earlier, but it's an altogether alien feeling. "I don't know what, exactly. And you pointing that out doesn't make looking at my almost naked self in the third person any better." He lays back down, throwing an arm over his eyes.
The young lady rolls hers, opening the drawers under the narrow bunk for a change of clothes. "I'm assuming you're here for something more important than a suggestive peek at yourself." She finds nothing except books, papers, and pencils.
He directs her to the dresser against the tall windows. "Did you know Ellie's getting worried about us? It sounds serious."
"I was expecting some kind of reaction from her, considering the way she pointed out our 'peculiar' behavior. Though I was hoping it would be later rather than sooner." The young woman picks through the draws for some proper underclothes, but only finds another embellished gray skin suit."Why do you wear an antique swim suit under your clothes?"
"It's not a swim suit, its my standard issue under suit. My contract stipulated I had to wear what they gave me before boarding the Hope and leave everything else behind on Earth. And frankly, it's more stylish than the underwear I've seen around here."
The Captain sighs, bringing out the skin suit and giving it a once over. It reminds her of an antique garment from an octogenarian's closet, but lightly worn. "The hard-headed streak she tempers with her laid back veneer isn't going to let this go, even with your exceptional skill for persuasion." She drops her towel slipping into the stretchy gray form-fitting suit. It fits snugly around her curves without pinching, and is soft to the touch. The material of the garment is much more well built than most clothes she's worn, and the shiny embellishment around the shoulders provides a light, leathery protective shell.
"Aren't you glad I got you to tell the truth, now, Vicar?"
"No, you imbecile, I'm not." The woman towels her long dark hair. "It's only going to make Doctor Fenhill think our insanity is the permanent kind." An unnerving chill runs down her back at the thought.
"There you go being negative again." The older man gets up, groaning in relief as the migraine abates. "Mellow out once in a while."
She throws her towel at him, getting him square in the face. "Is that your professional medical opinion, Captain?"
"One of these days, you're gonna get an ulcer." He chucks the towel at the pile of clothes beside the dresser. "Also, did you cry in the shower by any chance?"
Her brow furrows and a frown plants itself firmly on her pink lips. "You couldn't possibly have heard anything, I'm sure of it."
The Vicar let's out a resigned sigh. "I cry in the shower so no one will hear me. It's been happening on and off since I landed in the Emerald Vale." He clears his throat, forcing himself to sit a little straighter. "So just in case you feel like crying, don't worry, it happens."
She feels a lump forming in the back of her throat. "How do keep up your happy front all the time with this…" she fumbles for an adequate adjective. "…I'm not sure what it is except the overwhelming need to cry."
The older man rests his hands on his knees, quietly hemming and hawing at the question for a handful of seconds. "It could be a symptom of prolonged cryosleep, or bouts of existential dread. Maybe its just a lifetime of regret finally surfacing after too much inner reflection." The Vicar shrugs. "I don't know, I'm a doctor not a psychologist."
The young lady's stoic facade falters at the realization of the depths of her own unhappiness. "You're just as miserable as the rest of us, maybe even more so considering your delusions. If I wasn't such a pragmatist, I'd be more disheartened."
The Vicar frowns ever so slightly, covering it up with a restrained smile. "No one says you can't be. Just don't be surprised when you heart starts to melt from all the warm fuzzy feelings in your body. My body," he immediately corrects.
"How droll." She sarcastically quips, turning to look for some clothes.
Vicar DeSoto gets up, heading for the door. "In all seriousness, Vicar, I know me. If you need to cry, cry. If you need a hug or someone to talk to, I'll be in your room." He shuts the cabin door behind himself.
From the entrance door of the Unreliable, the whooping and hollering of an obviously inebriated and elated Nyoka echoes through the front anti-chamber into the adjacent cargo hold and kitchen.
Ellie follows close behind, tipsy, but still able to direct the excited huntress to the nearest seat. She plops down in the chair next to hers, laughing at the garbled jokes being thrown her way.
The hullabaloo from the kitchen wakes the Vicar from a restless sleep. A heady laugh followed by a happy, but sedate response gets the old man up out of his hard bunk and hurrying over to the stairs at the end of the hall. He takes them two at a time, rolling his patterned yellow sleeves to his elbows. "Vicar!" He pounds his fist on the door. "They're back!"
After a few silent moments, the Captain in a SOME OUTFIT answers, visibly shaken.
"You look scared, what's wrong?"
"Nothing…" The Captain clears her throat, hardening her composure. "Bad dream."
He gives a knowing grunt. "I get those a lot too."
"I'm sure." The young woman sidesteps him, heading downstairs.
Vicar DeSoto keeps in step with her, knocking on the cabin doors of Felix and Parvati, summoning them to the kitchen. He yells across the room and into the entrance anti-chamber for SAM.
As the entire crew meanders into the meeting space, the two decide between themselves how to explain this mess without sounding insane.
"It looks like you two are still at it." Nyoka's comment interrupts the whispered argument boiling between the crew mates.
The Captain throws up her hands. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you. Numerous times."
He sticks his tongue out at her, then turns to address the crew. "First of all, we're not 'at anything', Nyoka. Secondly, I'm Captain Hawthorne, and that's the Vicar." He points at the woman beside him, arms crossed, shaking her head.
Ellie smirks, leaning back in her chair.
Nyoka gives a disbelieving chuckle, flicking a chunk of bloody carcass off her sleeve.
Felix laughs at the old man with that juvenile giggle of his.
Parvati softly frowns, a little confused about the whole affair.
The Vicar smiles at the Captain in triumph. "I told you they wouldn't think we're nuts."
"No, I think you're both crazy," the doctor interjects. "But its the fun kind of crazy."
"Like watching those uptight Byzantines have a conniption fit over us tracking dirt on the street." The huntress brushes back a stray dreadlock.
The Captain give him a sarcastic smile, seeing his happy mood utterly crushed.
"You think we're lying again, don't you?"
"Well, you gotta admit it does sound a little…" Parvati shrugs her shoulders awkwardly. "Far-fetched."
The older man is visibly crushed at the engineer's words. "Et tu, Parvati?"
She cringes and squirms in her seat, her face dropping a little. "Sorry Vicar."
Nyoka leans forward in her chair, head cocking to one side and brows knitting in contemplation. "Let's say you really did transplant brains because of that machine we were sent after. What would be the point of something like that? Who even wants something that scrambles your head hard enough that you think you're someone else?"
"That's the same question I asked myself not too long ago," the Captain says.
"Probably immortality," the Scientician concludes. "Why die when you can just upload yourself into another body?"
"Wasn't that the plot of the crossover episode where Halcyon Helene teamed up with the Masked Marketeer and defeated D.T. Scrambler before he could steal the brain of the Eternal Corporate," Felix asks.
"Actually, D.T. Scrambler was the one getting his brain stolen by the Eternal Corporate." The woman in charge sighs as she facepalms.
"Yeah, that one."
"Since when did Vicky get a sense of humor?" The doctor kicks her feet up on the table, lacing her fingers in her lap.
"Believe me, Miss Fenhill, when I say I wish this was joke."
"But it is a joke, right," Parvati wonders, unsure about her own supposition. "You two said it was."
The old man sighs. "We were lying about it being a joke. The Vicar didn't want to tell you because he was afraid you'd think we're crazy."
"Not really crazy," Nyoka yawns. "It's more like you two got committed to an inside joke."
Felix pipes up, his facial expression flitting between confusion and amusement. "Hey, Vic, I got a question."
"What is it, Mister Millstone," the possessed Captain answers.
"I meant the other Vic." He jerks his head at the man in yellow.
"I'm not the Vicar, Felix, I'm just in his body."
"What's gonna happen if you can't get your own body's back?"
The Vicar's mouth opens and closes a few times as he fumbles for an answer. "I don't know, I haven't given it much thought."
"I have," the young woman interjects. "And I already have a list of things you're not going to do with my body. Chief among them being 'no sex'."
"Do you think so little of me that you'd think I go out and find 'special company' like this." He angrily gesticulates up and down his well-muscled form.
"Yes," she says without an iota of hesitation.
"So are we done with the meeting," the red-headed woman inquires. "I really wanna get some shuteye."
"Right, the second reason why we're here." He clears his throat, gathering his thoughts. "So, we found out some things, and now we need to find the main OSI office for this colony. Preferably an office with a Bishop or some other very important religion guy. Does anyone know where it might be?"
The various crew members give different levels of contemplative ignorance.
Ellie speaks up first after a handful of minutes punctuated by the occasional murmur. "I heard there's an office like that on Earth."
"There's the one in Edgewater," Parvati points out. "If that counts."
"Monarch's got one, but it's been abandoned since the Board left." Nyoka reaches into her back pocket for her flask and takes a swig from it.
The Captain shakes her head. "None of these places have the high officials we're looking for. They probably never have, now that I think about it."
"Then who's directing this, Vicar? It has to be someone important," he asks her, getting a bit frustrated.
"Well, I'm going to bed." The pirate doctor puts her feet down, getting up from her seat. "As funny as this charade is, it's kind of turning into a bad episode of Space Hospital, which I already hate in the first place."
Nyoka follows suit, dragging her feet to her own room.
Finding nothing to poke fun at about this situation, Felix abruptly leaves.
Parvati as she gives the Captain and Vicar a concerned look before leaving the kitchen, SAM trailing behind.
"I was half right, at least," the Vicar tells the young woman already walking off to her room.
The Captain rolls her eyes and sighs.