Port Arturo had five void cruiser docks, all of them faced the ocean, two on the southwest and southeast, and a larger one south. Crew 13's was docked at the west most, almost completely empty as it had been fully unloaded. Marco and Darren were in a lower deck, it was very early in the morning, the rooftop was closed. They were by themselves, only a security guard waited outside.
The floor was gray and the ceiling is the grates of the floor from the dock above. Laid across eight tables were all of the crew's belongings, one per member, one for the small necessities like electronic devices, one for the dining area and it's utilities, and one for any commodities the crew may request.
The electronics table almost always remained the same, a tablet per crew member and a communicator. Here were also displayed their armament, such as Bodhi's dented armor which has been replaced for a new set or the adjuster's used VGRs. Marco picked one of them up, eyeing the container from which the black fog dispensed, he flipped it in his hand. It had been refilled and sealed by the academic wing, "Why exactly can't we wear these and going into fissures ourselves?" Darren was walking around a few of the other tables, scribbling into his clipboard, "Arbiter limitations. Or so its what they say." Marco placed the VGR down and stepped towards his new transformer case.
"Marco, why does it matter if Tyson had cancer?" They both continued to walk around, checking the condition of all their new equipment. "Alcohol looks like tumors in sheath scans, both warping the image into blurry messes. Generally you would have to drink enough alcohol to where you would be absolutely shitfaced when you show up to take your exam and it would be postponed, but Tyson?" he huffed, "you saw how much he can drink."
Darren looked up and around, making sure he had taken note of everything. "You wanna give him enough alcohol to mess up the scan?" Marco nodded, wiping his mustache with the back of his hand. He looked down at it, flipping it over to see his arbiter. "And then what happens?" Asked Darren, Marco looked at him and shrugged, "round of oral chemo, nothing uncurable."
Darren looked down at his clipboard and frowned, lowering it as he looked at Marco, "And... then what? Just wait until his next examination? Keep doing that over and over until?-" He raised his hands as if expecting an answer. Marco scratched the top of his head and thought, "I don't know, time will tell." He folded over and looked through the papers as he made one final check as well, placing the clipboard on a table near the exit.
"You know it's not just about you Marco, you are putting my and everyone in our crew's career in harm's way." Said Darren as he placed his clipboard down by the other's side. "Well no one has spoken yet, and that may be for a reason." He opened the door, the singular guard, a much younger handler was reading something in his tablet. The two of them waved at him as they walked down the hall. They pressed a button and an elevator door dinged, sliding open, they both stepped inside.
Darren hunched his back as he relaxed, he looked down at his arbiter as well. "That feeling that you described the other day, what was it?" Marco looked up and towards a camera that sat in the corner, the elevator door dinged and they both walked out to the hall with their apartments. Darren's door came first, he turned the handle and was about to walk inside before Marco grabbed his shoulder. He turned and looked down at him, Marco spoke with a serious expression, "Strife."
Darren made a confused face and recoiled slightly, "directed at what?" "I'm not sure," Marco ran his thumb over his own arbiter, "but whatever it is, I don't like it."