Dysart - 'Full circle'

Who: Dysart
Where: Blue Dwarf
When: Second day back
Dysart needed to clear his head... or cpu, dammit it's too bloody hard
to come up with the correct phrases when you're a smegging robot!
"Erm... yes...?" Dysart asked uncertainly.
The response was less than understanding. "Oh don't you be giving me
that look. We're in a middle of a ship-wide meeting and you think dah
you're just going to waltz out of here?! What did you think that I had
to do to get all these crazies here? Bloody hard work, that's what...
well an' bribery... and an' a bit of black mailing when the situation
proved necessary."
The synthetic (and I say that loosely) human racked his mind for
ideas... or cpu, dammit it's too bloody hard to come up with the
correct phrases when you're a smegging robot! "I was ahhh... just
going to the toilet...!"
"Was you now? I thought I told everyone to go before they went." What
amazed Dysart the most was how this guy managed to say it with a
straight face.
"Well it was just that your... speech... uh... inspired me!" Now he
was just running his mouth off with not actual idea of where he was
heading.
"Wot?" His face scrunched up like a confused marshmellow.
It wasn't much but he was going to his best to roll with it. "Yes!
After hearing your speech I realised that I- erm- I couldn't just sit
here. I HAD to go and do my best to get this ship as clean as humanly
possible!"
Every man, woman and transvestite in the room stared at the Australian
who was mid-way into a dramatic pose.
"You know what-" The portly Englishman started only to be quickly cut off.
From the sea of head rose a hairless muscular one. Tattoos covering
every inch of his cranium with a shit-eating grin covering his face he
heartily crowed in a clear mid-western American accent. "The cheeky
man is absolutely right!"
"Wot?!"
The technicoloured skin head turned to the speaker with utmost
confidence in his voice. "We're sitting here letten our asses grow to
the seat while there's seats out there needing cleaning! That really
BURNS my ASS!!"
Another man, who was sitting right next to the skin head stood rather
smarmy. With a small black beret and think cancer stick hanging out of
his mouth, this guy seemed to take every french stereotype and run
them over the edge of a cliff... in a dump truck. "I completely agree
to the previous 'statement, well, minus the part with the ass.
Therefore I rebel against this boring meeting with stale donuts and
propose immediate action lest I resign!"
The skin head seemed to scoff at his associate's remark. "You are
always threatening to resign. You haven't got the balls! Which is what
he need right now. Balls- LOTS OF BALLS!"
An uproar slowly gathered up from the crowd, growing like a Mexican
wave and finally exploding into a big kahuna of various politically
incorrect stereotypes.
The speaker was not pleased at being upstaged so easily. Sliding in a
index finger and pulling his suddenly tightened collar a few times
before rounding on the Australian Janitor. "In light of the current
conditions... I agree! Alright blue boy. Lead on!"
This was not what Dysart had in mind.
~~
Defiantly not what he had in mind.
It was true, as Andy Dysart had run of the ship's Janitorial
department mostly because he was the only one. The Skutters where so
few that it was still an after thought. The Janitorial team of a JMC
craft had always been civilian outsourced simply because no one joins
the JMC with the intention of being a cleaner.
Unfortunately the third class 'engineers' were only called so to get
under the union radar.
It'd been more than a year and a half since Dysart had seen this
ladies bathroom. Dear me, he was getting all nostalgic. The third loo
on the right was the very first time he'd ever committed manslaughter.
I wonder if that counts for GELFs?
Fortunately for his water sensitive frame he'd managed to sneak on
wearing an advanced Hazmat 6 suit. The new features such as
skintight-wrap options helped so he won't look a condom on a stick.
The light bee managed to subtly increase his hologram ratio and shift
to accommodate the new changes so it wouldn't accidentally clip
through. He'd still have to be careful though- Haz-suits didn't come
with beer-can sized helmets.
Dysart stopped and turned to his two cronies. He'd quickly discovered
their names, being Leather head and Surly- you figure out which one
was which.
"Alright, Leather head, I want you on the loos. For god sake's man
keep your pants up! Surly you've got the sinks and stop bitching about
the blood! No one on board has STIs' and you've a bloody hazard suit on."
The two janitors seemed to have some bizarre dynamic going on. Like
two people that had been stuck together for years in close quaters,
hated each other enough to kill one another yet turned out friends by
the end of it. Leather head was the crouch fixated American while
'Surly' was... well... he was French- what else was there to say?
Half an hour later Leather head and Surly had almost completed their
jobs and where ready to move on. "Oh yeah, all this work is getting me
hungry. You can't make me someo'that white Italian special sauce for
lunch?"
Surly's lower eye lid noticeably twitched as he slowly turned to his
misguided partner. "The only 'special sauce' I produce is the kind
that I apply to your mother's face."
"Oh... sure... could I get me some of that on my hotdog?"
"Don't tempt me."
Dysart merely rolled his eyes apathetically and pulled up his Radio.
"Mr. Cobbles, this is Dysart. Over."
"Yes, Ensign, where to? Over." Whatever power the portly man had was
quickly turned over to the seemingly all-knowing Janitor. Dysart
didn't know how long this would last until 'Mr. Cobbles' stopped
humoring him but he was just riding the wave for as long as it lasted.
"We've still got a situation on science deck. NSD managed to blow a
hole in an acid canister so that's a level 1 hazard. Additionally
could we PLEASE get someone up to clean up Seymour suite? That's a
hazard in a class of it's own if we don't patch up the deck and clean
it up. Over."
Dysart could almost visualise the chubby man scratching his double but
utterly immovable chin. "Dah ambassador's suite? Well... we might as
well space it and get engineering up to fix the hull. What ever he had
in dere that was made of fur... well, he's just going to have to get a
new one. As for the men on dah science deck, woo-er they've got dey're
hands full with a vicious strain of multi-limbed cucumber. Dey've had
to call in Dante to kept it under control. Could your lot take care of
the spill? Over."
"Affirmative, Dysart over/out-.... GOD DAMN IT LEATHER HEAD. PUT.
YOUR. PANTS. ON!"
~~
Close quarters with these two was hardly an optimal situation at any
distance. Even worse was when they were stuffed shoulder to shoulder
in a express lift.
"Okay you two, we just got them so try and, keep those skutters at
arm's length of the acid spill. Leatherhead you've got the next floor-
you're on top."
"Hur-hur."
"Oh shut up. Surly you're with me, you and I are working the bottom
floors."
"Hur-hur."
"Don't make me slap you."
"*Boom*" The lift lurched to a sudden hault as Holly helpfully
provided the voice overs. "Science deck, deus ex machina, Eldritch
horrors and cute nerdy chicks in glasses."
Surly and Dysart quickly shifted out the lift. Seconds before the door
slid shut a squad of skutters and peewees rushed through and around
their legs. Dysart, who was used to such obstacle course treatment
didn't miss a beat rounding on his French assistant. "Surly, you know
what to do. You'll be on the main spill. I'll try and search the
adjacent rooms for seepages and anyone who hasn't already evacuated."
"And if the acid spreads?"
"Then call Cobbles for reinforcement- we can't have this spreading
through anymore levels than it already has."
Surly shrugged and motioned his 2 foot companions behind him.
Dysart turned and walked alone through the corridors. Every now and
then he checked through the labs for anyone who had yet decided to
stick around. Twirling a spary bottle of biospray on his index finger
he was keeping a rather brisk pace until he noticed a green soaked
skutter roll past him.
"Hey... that stuffs' holographic...."
Dysart's eyes brushed past the lab number 'r766'. Huh sounded
familiar somehow. A small convinient crack was left in the door not
fully closed. The AI cautiously pressed up against the hole. Within
seconds he noticed a lone figure no-doubt burning the midnight oil as
he clattered away on his keyboard with a inspired zeal.
"Hey! This is a hazardous cleanup zone! Evacuate immediately!"