Dmitri Tactikov (silentsoviet) wrote in oddverse,
Dmitri Tactikov

Cold Shoulder

Dmitri remained floating in front of the clear hull, staring out into the depths of the spaceport. There was something indistinct that might have been smoke, but it seemed quite far away. This was a good thing, as anything happening near the docks might spell disaster for Dmitri and his prospective employment.

Hopefully it's not an uprising of the proletariat, he though gloomily. He blinked and shook his head vigourously. Hopefully it's not an armed uprising of the proletariat that will come near me, he rephrased mentally. He frowned for a moment. They're all elfing pirates anyway. No damn proletariat to uprise.

However, pirates most certainly were armed, and that gave Dmitri little comfort. There was another boom, this time dull and muffled, and a flash of light in from somewhere in the centre of Marlin. From this distance he couldn't tell whether or not it was magic or mechanics that caused it, but it was bad news either way. The question of what caused just defined how bad.

The cyborg girl, Nemma, had crawled up the hull on those ridiculous spider-legs and was now just below his elbow, looking up at him. She was smiling, and some of that smile shone silver. Dmitri arched an eyeborw and sighed inwardly. Disgustingly Capitalist, all that machinery to replace her body... though there probably wasn't much body left when they replaced it. He blinked, surprised at himself. He couldn't remember caring so much about people who weren't Soviet - or, more importantly, him - before.

"Rubel for your thoughts?" Nemma asked, but Dmitri just grunted and shrugged. There was a click-clicking sound as she adjusted her position perched on the wall. "I said, 'Rubel for your thoughts?' You can at least reply so you can insult me or something."

Dmitri turned to looked at her, his face impassive. "Little pirate girl," he said, "the gunslinger elfboy who just sped off fought me not too long ago, and I came off decisively worse despite being able to hurt him quite badly. The same stripling sprite, who could not be more than twenty, has told me to stay clear of you."

He looked down at the girl, waiting for her to understand. It didn't look like it'd happen soon. "So?" she replied after a moment.

"Soviets are not cowards," said Dmitri, turning to look out again, "but nor are we stupid. I am not particularly enamoured to go another three rounds with your alien boyfriend, so I am going to do what he asked me to do. I am too busy worrying about what's happening outside to bother with you anyway."

"Why," said Nemma, crawling up the hull until she was looking down at Dmitri. "not just look outside?"

"I can worry about black holes and zombies without 'looking outside' thank you very much," snapped Dmitri curtly. "The same applies here. Explosions tend to be bad for my health... except when I'm causing them."

The cyborg girl laughed and shook her head. "I don't have to go outside to look outside," she said, plucking her eyeball out and dropping it towards the floor. It bobbed when it reached head height and began to meander out the door. Dmitri raised his eyebrows, like two caterpillars attached to his forehead, and looked at the girl.

"I can see how that could be slightly useful at times," he conceded, after a long, long pause. Nemma gave him a big grin of dubious mirth that made the Soviet sorcerer feel very uneasy indeed.
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