Re: Furesh Scout: Crow
Elsbeth accepted T'risa's touch without flinching - luckily, she chose the side that the Marines are trained to react to. As she looked into the Marshal's eyes, Elsbeth found the sensation was strangely comforting, as well as slightly disconcerting. Deep down, Elsbeth feared that her rather unorthodox upbringing would laid out bare for the Marshal to see. Still, if that were grounds for dismissal, Elsbeth could do nothing about it. She could be nothing more than what she was. And then it was done, "Thank you, Ma'am." was all that she could think of to say in response.
And then she intoned, "Yes, Ma'am." to T'risa's order to practice shooting with her in her head. As Elsbeth turned to go, she added as an afterthought, "Should I invite, Friend Balkiir to accompany me when doing so?"
Once in the cargo hold, Elsbeth helped Balkiir to shuffle things around, though she strongly suspected that the large blue man could have handled all of the things on his own. She realized that he liked to talk; so, she tried to listen - and she was surprised when he stated that he was dissatisfied with the job. She looked at him quizzically, her confusion quite obvious, "I am surprised, Friend Balkiir. I know that you do not fear death - for I have seen you fight. So, why would your role here make you feel unfulfilled?"
She added with deadpan seriousness, "Marshal K'mahda seems quite unwilling to let us die, in any case. I believe that we would have to work hard to have that happen. Not that I would try, personally."
Elsbeth seemed taken aback for a moment when Balkiir asked about her past. She tilted her head to the side for a moment, as if reviewing a litany in her head, then stated quietly, "My clutch was incubated on Enchoa Rhi." Elsbeth held out her forearm, displaying her wrist and the underside. It was covered with three sets of markings: a 2-D barcode, an intricate set of colored tattooes that ran around and up her arm, and a numerous scars of varying lengths sizes and ages. She pointed to one spot on the barcode, "I was the twelfth embryo in my clutch. Hence, Berth L - or 'L-Berth'." She swallowed hard and gave Balkiir a rather crooked smile, "My name is not very imaginative." And then she pointed to another spot, "Sponsored by the Sinclair Genetics Corporation. Dr. Acton Ibril Smythe was the lead technician and scientist for my batch."
Elsbeth ran her fingers over yet another section of the barcode, "I was designed and trained to guard other genetically engineered humans - those with enhanced intelligence and some psi capabilities. I was made to be a human shield of sorts. Our designation was that we were Praetorians." She looked down for a moment, a dark shadow crossing her face, "I... I guess I was not a very good shield." Elsbeth left out the part where she lost her left arm, and where the circumstance that left her near death was actually the fall from low orbit in a hard suit that had been environmentally compromised. She was sure that she didn't need to go there right now.
Still looking at the floor, Elsbeth continued, "After my charge died ... I ... I was 'found' by some scavengers and nursed back to health." She glanced back at Balkiir, "Nursed back to health so that I could be their pit fighter - a chained animal, supposedly consigned to die for their pleasure in the gladiatorial games between the warring petty fiefdoms or warlords or corporate politics or whatever." She shrugged, "I wasn't very good at that either... though, I guess one could say that since I survived and escaped, I was not bad either."
"Once I made it off-planet." she noted, "I was granted asylum by the Colonial Authority - a ward of the state, so to speak. Since, I was only officially fifteen at the time. Though my adolescence and accelerated maturation cycle brought some of that into question... " Elsbeth glanced back down at the rubberized, corrugated metal floor, finding it very interesting all of a sudden. "After the committee review and the endless inquiries, I was left emancipated. But... I-I didn't know what to do with myself. The Marines offered me a way out - a... a family, of sorts, I guess." She glanced back at Balkiir again, making eye contact once more, a slight, lopsided smile playing on her face, "A pretty stupid reason to join, eh? Did I mention that the Praetorian template was not known for their intelligence?"