<span style="font-style: italic">"..naan.."</span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"Ca...an.."</span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"Canaan."</span><br/><br/><br/>That digital voice inside his head pilfered him of what little downtime he had unconsciously, but gratefully found for himself. Canaan's eyes slowly opened, blinking quite a few times to clear his vision of Anubis' cockpit. He had fallen asleep, even though he said he will not grow tired, his body, though nearly half machine, still required some sleep. Canaan stretched out as best he could inside the small space, trying to iron out the uncomfortable kinks he got from sleeping inside his mech.<br/><br/>"How long was I out?" he grudgingly asked his A.I. companion.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"Two hours, forty-six minutes and twenty-fou--"</span><br/><br/>"Aaaargggh!" the pilot interrupted Annie's calculation. "I wish it would have been longer." he complained. Two hours and some change, that was the most time he had gotten for himself. He knew that the moment he steps out of his mech's cockpit, he was to resume his duties in this tired battleship; it made waking up all the more excruciatingly painful.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"I intercepted a priority mandate being cascaded through the ship's systems. It would seem you are to be assigned to hull scrubbing and possibly repair duties. The mandate reads, Disciplinary Action."</span><br/><br/>"What?!" the surprise effectively jolted the last bits of sleep lingering in his system, more so than coffee. He was a pilot for crying out loud! Originally a civilian pilot risking his own ass out there every time they get attacked! He didn't sign up for any of this shit; it wasn't his choice! Then again, with how things went down when all these started,<span style="font-style: italic">choices</span>have already been predetermined for a great many, and he was no exception. Why start complaining now? This was the Captain's way of showing and maintaining order. Without it, the remnants of humanity will crumble away without a doubt. Canaan didn't want that. If Captain Troy wants to continue playing Elyandra's god, he would not deny her the satisfaction, as long as he is under her not so tender loving care.<br/><br/>He may be a civilian before, but none of that matters now after he was forcefully assigned to this ship near the end of the moon base incident. To the eyes of this ship's crew, he was one of them, not a shirt button less.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"Military protocols state that when you are being briefed..."</span><br/><br/>"Annie, don't go there. Just... don't okay?" he was not about to take a lecture about military protocols from the only person--only friend--he had in this hellhole. "What of their gung-ho rescue op? What happened to that?"<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"It was put on hold until further notice. Priority had been diverted to ship repairs and medical needs of the crew."</span><br/><br/>"Tch... figures." he spat in mild distaste. "All that talk about rescuing someone and here we are, taking our sweet time in doing it."<br/><br/>Right about now, more than anything, he wished for the peaceful times they had so painfully taken for granted. Those times where they didn't have to go through all this trouble. Canaan fell to silence, oblivious to the rowdy noise of the hangar working nonstop.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"I do not recognize this emotional pattern you are displaying Canaan. What is this?"</span><br/><br/>How could she? Machines, for all intents and purposes were originally designed as tools. They were not meant to have emotion, just built to carry out their intended function without complaint. That was their role before, and that will still be their role now in things to come. Still, why does this... why does Annie hold so much interest in emotional patterns? Perhaps... she was different? The first of her kind maybe? The notion started to make Canaan feel silly and uneasy. With a familiar stroke of keys in the dash, Canaan opened the cockpit. "Do you keep a log of these things? Don't worry about it Annie, I'm fine. If you must know what emotion that is, it's called regret." He informed the A.I. and jumped out of the cockpit. He turned around and paused to take a good look at the Anubis. They have come a long way to get here, and they still have a longer way to go.<br/><br/>"Lock yourself up nice and tight. Don't let any of this ship's mechanics lay a hand on you. I don't want them getting as much of a glimpse on your tech."<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"Affirmative. Initiating lock-down protocol."</span><br/><br/>"Oh and... try not to get caught when you're trolling this ship's systems okay? I don't want any more DA's being charged on me. You got that?"<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"Roger that Canaan."</span><br/><br/>"And lastly, I could use some privacy. Could you stay out of my head unless it's absolutely necessary to make contact?"<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"....."</span><br/><br/>It took a while for her to respond, making Canaan feel bad for asking such a thing. Still, he could really use some alone time. "Annie? Did you hear me?"<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"Yes. Disengaging Neural Link in 5...4...3...2...1... Disengage."</span><br/><br/>There was a slightly disorienting feeling in his head, like a string had been pulled out of his brain when their Neural Link was turned off. "Oh man... I'll never get used to that." he grumbled, rubbing his temples as he turned around. "Okay, guess it's time to face judgment with a scrub and bucket!"<br/><br/><br/>Inside the Anubis' cockpit, the screen on the dash glowed to life. On it, words began to fill the screen...<br/><br/><span style="color: #40FF00">Regret - a feeling of sadness, repentance, or disappointment over something that has happened or had been done.<br/><br/>Associated with: remorse, sorrow, contrition, repentance, penitence, guilt, ruefulness<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">Logging to database...<br/>Adjusting Protocols...<br/>...OK.</span></span>