1. EVERYTHING STARTS

[sheboygan]

Thirty years, by the spinning of faraway Earth around its star. Thirty short Earth-years that translate to the full lifespan of the beings born on a planet that runs much quicker around its own star, home planet to ship builders of renown well beyond their solar system.

A long life.

The names of the Captain and the Engineer never left that faraway world, kept safe among the People (as they called themselves) when the two set forth with their incredible ship. It held unprecedented technology, even for their race's innovative builders. An engine that ran by manipulating probability... a successful design could open up so many possibilities.

Those glorious futures are bright in the Captain's eyes as she pilots her vessel. The Engineer, on the other hand, is content with what's already come and gone, more determined to see the end of their journey through with dignity. It is an end, after all; thirty Earth-years and the ship builders pass on to whatever awaits the mind when the body stops working. One last, beautiful trip.

They are who oversee this strange situation. After their ship's malfunction, finding fresh cargo in their ship was surprise enough. Discovering that they had picked up living beings completely foreign to this part of the galaxy was even more strange. The further discovery that these creatures were, in fact, foreign to this entire universe if the readouts were to be believed... well. It wasn't impossible. But it was improbable.

The Captain was the first to take charge, as she had to, becoming the first to attempt to soothe and steady the unlucky travelers. She had always been the more outgoing of the two of them.

Two solitary fingers and a near-as-long thumb rise on a hand dappled with pores. Patience, the Captain urged, waiting for all to be safely roused. Patience, she said, without any mouth or voice at all, and the thoughts chimed like bells in the minds of the strangers. Tiny flame-like flickers of light lingered at her temples as she used her thought-speech to communicate.

An image blossomed in the head-spaces of her audience, a (hopefully) welcoming image of herself and her crewmate. Her species was tall and lithe, nearly eight feet in height. Their clothing carried the same elegant, almost carved-looking swirling texture as their skin, and their skirts flowed all the way down their bodies to swirl on the ground, hiding any notion of feet.

< Hello, strangers! You may have noticed that you are no longer at the where you were expecting to be at! >

The tone of her "voice" became sheepish as she continued. Lingering behind her, the Engineer seemed to glower as best as one could without eyebrows or a mouth to really sell the expression.

The Captain started to pace, and this only accentuated her truly alien nature. Her limbs curved like willow branches swaying in the wind, like there were fewer bones than there ought be in her body.

< There has been a problem with some experimental transportation technology, and it looks like we're all going to be housemates for a little while. >

She continued with a full explanation of the circumstances through which the travelers had been pulled to this universe.

< The long and short story is that we're stuck here together until we can get the ship running again to take us all back to our home planet, where we can get you back to your home universes. In order to do that, though, the Ship needs material in order to grow. Your assistance in gathering said material would be appreciated. We've landed on the planet Canagan, and there should be plenty around. Just ask the locals. They'll be able to tell you more about that.

The exit to the ship is marked by the red lights. The mess hall is marked by blue. I will be waiting there if you have any further questions. >

She finished her speech with the mental equivalent of a winky emoticon.

< That was an inelegant introduction, > remarked the Engineer.

< Well we have to show that we're friendly somehow! > The Captain sent her a thought-speak pouty face, and got silence in return. While the Engineer tried to retreat, she was held off by her partner. They needed to linger, to support these strangers how they can.



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Comments

[heal_or_execute]

"Situation problematic, but under control!" Mordin has found himself a nice sturdy space-maple stump to hop up on. It's just high enough to elevate his ankles out of biting range, and he stands on top of it while the wulfereens yip and snarl around its base, running around the stump as though they will find a staircase to the top if they complete enough circles.

The alien looks over to where Steve is, panting a bit- at Mordin's age, running around and being chased is a little tougher than it used to be. "Would prefer to avoid harming them if possible. Requesting distraction. Something to draw their attention. Assistance would be appreciated."

[capsulized]

Steve continues to watch from a certain distance, though it's mostly a matter of circumstance than an intentional move to stay safe from the angry little beasts, watching as Mordin manages to get himself out of harm's way. Even when he decides to step closer they seem to pay no mind to him - he's guessing Mordin's scent is a lot more appealing than his own - taking a look around before he finds what he assumes is the fallen branch of an alien tree.

Well. They look like canines. And canines are as canines do, right?

With a sharp whistle and a loud syllable, the wulfereens double take at the Captain with a stick in his hand, waving it from side to side to make it a dynamic and engaging toy. One of them yips as if to call for the attention of the rest of the group, and they stop and jump back before trotting and scampering over to where Steve stands.

He's not so sure this was such a good idea anymore, but he waves it once or twice before swiftly throwing it off to the distance.

A very long distance, given the strength he puts into it. Which might or might not have been slightly accidental, but at least it gets the job done, and the critters are successfully distracted for what will hopefully be enough time for Mordin to gather himself again.

"Assisted."

[heal_or_execute]

Mordin watches the critters run off, then jumps down from the stump. He then heads over to Steve, smiling in greeting. "And appreciated. Good improvisation- using wulfereen predator instinct against them. Most creatures of that type hardwired to pursue moving objects. Impulses coded into neurological structure."

The good news is that Steve now has a grateful and friendly alien chattering at him. The bad news is that with the alien canines off chasing the stick, Mordin is free to refocus his attention on other things to study. Things like a human who just demonstrated significantly above-average strength and coordination in throwing that stick.

Mordin touches his chin, peering at Steve's arms. "Hm. No sign of cybernetic enhancements. Surface appearances indicate a baseline human in excellent physical condition. Shouldn't have been able to project that much force in throw, unless-" He lowers his hand, points at Steve. "Genetic augmentation?"

[capsulized]

Very matter-of-factly, this one, isn't he? In a way he reminds Steve of Bruce Banner, or even Tony Stark - taken to a much more analytical, alien degree. The physical appearance is a bit hard to ignore, if he can be forgiven for staring a little. Even the likes of Thor and Loki had a lot of resemblances to the human figure.

"No problem," He nods and parts his lips, not quite managing a smile, even if his expression and demeanor are both friendly enough. This is before Mordin refocuses, of course, at which point Steve stiffens just a little and follows the other's eyes with a puzzled gaze, brows pressed together. He wasn't quite expecting to be scrutinized, but in a way he feels he shouldn't be surprised. He suspects they both look unusual to one another.

"Uh -" He exhales, not quite sure how to explain it, "Yeah."

That thing. Try to be a little more eloquent, Captain.

"--Steve Rogers."

He offers a gloved hand.

[heal_or_execute]

Mordin takes the gloved hand with his own spindly three-fingered one. It's an awkward fit, and Mordin's amphibian flesh probably feels about as weird as his appearance looks to Steve.

"Professor Mordin Solus," he says, nodding back. "Physician and geneticist. Currently studying ship's crew along with local species. Would like to learn more about your enhancements." His eyes meet Steve's and focus in on them, as though he can figure out the Captain's prescription if he analyzes the pupils enough. With Mordin's brain, maybe he can.

[capsulized]

He can understand the curiosity, given that he's found himself a scientist that apparently deals in the very same area that made Steve the supersoldier he is today. If anything, he'd just expect Mordin to be knowledgeable about it already, though that's perhaps just an unfair assumption.

"Professor." The nice to meet you should be implied in the way he swiftly leans his head, offering something close to a smile. His tone and demeanor are pleasant enough for it. "I'll admit I don't know all that much about it, but I'd be happy to tell you whatever I can."

[heal_or_execute]

"Excellent. Will commence with brief scan, if you don't mind." The Professor takes a step back. Without further ado, Mordin has his omni-tool out and is waving it over Steve's body. It hums and glows as it reads the Captain's vital information in seconds. Mordin seems to like what he sees on the tool's holographic display.

"Hm. Peak physical condition. Circulatory, respiratory, nervous system all in perfect health. Significant muscle mass. Strengthened immune system. All modifications in favour of strength and speed. Useful in combat." He shuts off the tool, and looks at Steve. "Super-soldier?"

[capsulized]

Needless to say that's just another of many things Steve's never seen before, and the puzzled look in his eyes gives it entirely away. His hands are settled on his belt, brows creased but not necessarily defensive, just... not sure what to do.

Not sure what to say to Mordin's comments, either. He seems to be drawing conclusions all on his own. Which is easier on Steve, really - he wouldn't really know how to put that all so... eloquently.

"... Yeah. That's right."

Exhibit A, everyone.

[heal_or_execute]

Mordin forges onward, oblivious to the look on Steve's face. He has always been better with alleles than expressions, anyway. "Clearly advanced techniques. Hope you don't mind me asking- who conducted your modifications?"

Someone who knows their way around a DNA helix has clearly been to work on Steve, and Mordin wants to know who. Preferably so he can meet them and chatter about research while discussing Steve's body like it was a piece of artwork.

[capsulized]

"Doctor Erskine." That he can answer immediately and without problem. In fact his manner becomes a little more formal when he suddenly seems to know what he's talking about, nodding once along with his words. Steve nods a lot. It's a thing. "He developed a serum during world war II. Couldn't tell you what was in it, though."

Nor could anyone else, apparently - not even Howard Stark - since his death meant it could no longer be replicated. And then another thought strikes him:

"You know about the wars on Earth?"

[heal_or_execute]

"Yes." Mordin nods, pleased to have an opportunity to demonstrate his eidetic recall of esoteric (by his standards) information. "Remember standard primer on human history, distributed when your people established their galactic embassy. Second world war- large-scale Earth-wide conflict between human nation-states."

Mordin's face falls somewhat as he gets into the statistics. Some aspects of humanity's history don't make for the best possible advertisement to alien races. "Roughly two hundred years ago, in my time. Tens of millions dead. First use of atomic weaponry. Genocide. Disastrous. Your enhancements a result of wartime research?"

[capsulized]

Two hundred years? It hasn't even been a century for him. But it does help explain some things, he supposes, given that time is something he has an unusual relationship with to begin with.

"Sounds about right."

His tone is somewhat somber; he wishes he could correct Mordin somehow, but humanity is what it is. And that's something he works every day to change somehow - for the better.

"It was supposed to be a formula to create an army of super-soldiers to fight in the war, but Dr. Erskine..." A pause. "He was murdered before he could commit anything to paper."

Thus making Steve the only one successful experiment.