Dead Star Dockyards

Upon reaching the front gate of the Barracks, Mercedes began to pull Donovan towards the door. She was a smart cookie, the smartest cookie if one were to ask Diana, so she understood that this was home. Home meant Diana, her second most favorite person, as well as an interesting place for her to explore. This home was not as much of a home to her as the Noah was, and she had spent far less time here than she had in the Inner Sanctum, but it was sure to be an exciting experience. After all, there were people here.

"Mercedes." Donovan issued a warning with the tone of his voice, sterner than usual but not hostile. Some excitement was to be expected. "Calm down sweetie."

Mercedes swung her head back towards Donovan, tongue lolling about as she panted in excitement. If the hurricane her tail was generating  was any indicator, she wanted to be let off the leash.

"Fine." Donovan bent over to unclip the end, accepting the barrage of kisses from Mercedes in the process. Upon standing up straight again, Mercedes did not bolt off towards the door. She kept a position right next to Donovan, beating his leg with her tail. "Don't get happy tail syndrome on me."

Mercedes tilted her head, a curious response that almost made Donovan wonder if she understood what he was saying. Well, dogs could understand words and commands to some degree, that much was obvious from their ability to follow them, but Donovan thought that was mainly down to pattern recognition and the deciphering of intent. Could they actually follow conversations though? He supposed the possibility was there, especially for Mercedes. Who knows what the Great Csillacra had done to her. 

Actually, there was someone who knew, the Great Csillacra.

"Should I go back and ask?"

"Ask whom?"

". . . nevermind." Donovan discarded the idea, ignoring the man in his shadow. "I'll be back at some point. It would be too much of a bother at this point."

"As you wish, my lord."

The Watcher of the Nameless, the Velar who had decided to 'test' Donovan by stalking him, had a completely different tone in the wake of the Arboreal Maiden's 'correction'. She had assured Donovan that he would no longer cause problems, and that because of his . . . rejuvenated loyalty . . . none of the other Nameless would offer resistance either, nor should any of the other Velar clans. Naturally Donovan was a bit concerned about how he might act in his absence, but he had some level of faith in the Arboreal Maiden's work.

"You will make your presence known to everyone in the Barracks, am I understood?"

". . . yes, my lord." Donovan could feel the presence behind him grow more solid, if that could be called a proper description. "May I conceal my face?"

"I don't care what you wear. What I won't tolerate is intentionally making yourself invisible to those around you."

"That may prove difficult, my lord." Donovan shook his head. "I am the god of stealth, or perhaps hiding. Whatever the case, it is in my nature to not be noticed by others. Going against that nature may prove taxing."

"Taxing? I don't care if it kills you, make the effort." Donovan began to walk towards the barracks again. "Am I understood?"

". . ."

"Watcher?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Wonderful." Donovan had been saddled with an incredibly annoying and dangerous character. He could be an asset if used properly, but for the time being he was more of a hindrance. "Let's go."

- - - - -

Mercedes would find Diana first, as in she was the first one Mercedes wanted to see. Sure, Donovan was her favorite, but Diana wasn't too far behind him. She had recognized that Diana was his most favorite person long ago, and harm to her would represent harm to Donovan. Thus, it was important to find Diana and verify her status. Mercedes' job was to provide an emotional aid to her important people, and to Donovan's important people, who were her important people by proxy of being Donovan's important people, something she and the Skwiven seemed to have in common.

The Arboreal Maiden looked like one of their important people, but from the way they interacted with her it didn't seem like she was their most important person. She didn't seem to be particularly important at all, in fact. They seemed more interested in the . . . the everything of this place. 

Donovan closing the door signaled to Mercedes that it was okay for her to explore now, a signal she would know was wrong if he called her name. Reaching the entrance to one of the hallways, the one that smelled the most like Diana, she turned around to gauge Donovan's reaction. His attention was focused on the less than savory individual behind him, and the subservient individual coming from the more delicious smelling hallway. That was her okay.

Mercedes then made her way down the hall, following Diana's trail. There were other people's scents mixed in, including one that she found particularly interesting, but the investigation of that could wait. For now she needed to climb stairs, four flights of them, which made her feel a little bit tired. She hadn't been doing too much climbing, only running and jumping, and the need to bring her feet up so high in between steps did not jive with her. It wasn't a big deal, this hardly qualified as a problem, but it served to reinforce her preference for the great outdoors. 

Speaking of doors, Mercedes found a pair of them blocking her path. Preliminary investigation (pawing at them) revealed they were not locked, so Mercedes barged her way in with her nose to the ground. This was undoubtedly their sleeping chambers, and Mercedes could learn alot about how they had been in her absence from the odors they left behind. Stress was common, Mercedes could not remember a time Donovan was not caked in that odor, but there were also hints of relaxation and . . . something else. She didn't know what it was, but it probably meant something good if it was in their private space. 

Mercedes then hopped up onto the bed, the location she had determined Diana to be via process of elimination.

"Mgh."

Was she asleep? No, Mercedes knew that Diana would never sleep with her face in the head bed. She had tried to do so as a puppy, and it was hard for her to breath. Wait, what if she wasn't doing so on purpose? What if she fell asleep and accidentally rolled over!? Mercedes cautiously approached Diana, sniffing around the face for hints of breathing before nudging her cheeks. 

"Stahbit!" Mercedes did not stop it, in fact she did the opposite. Now that she had confirmed Diana's wellbeing, it was time to lather copious amounts of love onto her. "Stop! Noo! pleh Not the mouth!"

Diana tasted good. Whatever soap she used to clean herself was mildly fruity, and there was some salt in the little bit of perspiration she had experienced since then. Mercedes would not stop until the taste disappeared or Diana successfully restrained her, whichever came first. 

- - - - -

"Diana?" Donovan felt some sort of need to report to Diana as to what had gone on, as well as see why she had holed herself up in her room. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Diana had her head propped up on a bunch of pillows on top of the covers, Mercedes sprawled out right next to her. "How are you?"

"Same as always." Donovan admired her figure from a perspective he usually couldn't. Even when partially obscured by a dopey canine it was a sight to behold, the horizontal profile making assets normally viewed from the front or back more prominent. "Why are you here?"

"I'm moping." At least she was honest.

"What's got you down? Was it something I did?" Donovan couldn't imagine he had done something blatantly offensive to her, but she had displayed similar emotional outbursts when things he hadn't done came up. For example, children.

"No, it's not your fault. One of my experiments just turned out to be a failure." Diana ruffled Mercedes' head, who was more than happy to receive that affection. "Sitrice isn't water soluble, it seems."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you remember that green powder? The one that got in your eyes?"

"Vaguely."

"I wanted to use it to recreate lemon-lime soda, but the powder didn't dissolve."

"Oh." Donovan recalled her request to add a carbonator, sugar synthesizer, and syrup dispenser. "That's unfortunate."

"I really should have checked to see if it dissolved before putting that work on you. I'm sorry."

"That's-" Donovan got the feeling that a sizable portion of her poor mood could be attributed to guilt over a plan that wasn't hadn't come to fruition, a decision made in the heat of the moment as well. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure you would want soda at some point. Better to have the infrastructure in place now so we aren't suffering for it later."

"But I don't have the flavoring required."

Donovan frowned. While that might normally be a problem, it wasn't one that couldn't be solved. To Donovan's knowledge, most of the syrups that Diana was referring to were no longer made with natural ingredients. The synthetic processes involved with the manufacture of 'flavoring' and 'color' were relatively simple and cheap, and far less damaging to the environment. Just like with sugar, the act of directly synthesizing the chemical compounds responsible for a certain flavor tended to be far less time, labor, and cost intensive than growing them, especially if the majority of the crop would be thrown away afterwards anyways. The biggest concern was the health of the individuals that consumed them, though at this point it wasn't really a problem worth mentioning. 

"Have you asked Arc for help?"

"He said he'd analyze the powder once he got the time."

"No, not with that. Have you asked Arc for help in making soda?"

"Huh? No, I haven't. Why?"

"Have you considered that he might be able to synthesize a syrup for you?" Donovan walked around the bed to lay down at Diana's side, an action which was met with some protest by Mercedes. "You haven't forgotten that we can make things, have you?"

". . . maybe just a little."

"Arc?"

"Yes?"

"Why didn't you lend Diana a hand?"

"As the entity in charge of your health, I had deemed that-"

"Arc."

". . . It is my job to ensure your health, you know."

"It is also your job to keep us happy. Is soda, of all things, going to present an unreasonable threat to her health?" Donovan understood Arc's position. He too believed Diana, as the woman who would bear his children, had a responsibility to maintain a healthy lifestyle. It was not in any of their interests for her to compromise her reproductive system or introduce health risks to herself. However, Donovan recognized that she also needed outlets for stress.

If he had to choose between her regularly drinking sugary beverages or regularly drinking alcoholic beverages, he would want her to drink the soda. It might have more carbohydrates but it wasn't alcoholic, and at this point it was a more 'known' drink in comparison to foreign brews.

He found it somewhat strange that he was making the opposite decision the military had made with regards to sugared and carbonated beverages, no doubt because he wasn't nearly as concerned about carbon dioxide bubbles in the bloodstream during zero gravity.

"I have faith in Diana's self control. I also have faith in your willingness to cut her off from excess should that self control fail." Donovan accepted the hug from Diana, appeasing Mercedes with belly rubs in the process. "Are you sure that you can't do anything with the Sitrice though?"

"Hm?"

"Just because the powder won't create a homogeneous solution doesn't mean it can't be used to make a beverage." Donovan was reminded of a story about a certain beverage produced in a specific region of France. "Did it taste good?"

"It tasted close enough to the real thing, though I think the sugar was carrying that aspect."

"The why don't you market it as a feature rather than a defect? Bubbling sugar wine, for example."

"But it won't sell like that." Diana nestled her head in Donovan's neck. "It doesn't taste anything like the real soda."

"Then don't market it as soda. These guys don't have a clue what soda is, or what it is supposed to taste like. They also strike me as vain, wanting to look more cultured and respectable than the rest of their peers, and quite gullible to boot. I honestly think you could market the Sitrice in the water as something like a party trick. Did the bubbles catch some of the powder as they rose?"

"I . . . I don't remember. I was more disappointed in the fact it wasn't dissolving."

"Then let's give it another shot." Donovan rolled over, Diana stuck in his grasp, 'throwing' her off of the edge of the bed and onto her feet. "I can't imagine anybody would be able to recreate the carbonation techniques we have any time soon, and I'm pretty sure you could make it into an actual alcoholic beverage. Imagine, a zesty new wine or beer with a slight punch of lemon-lime and bubbles that carry the powder inside to the top when stirred. Hell, shake the bottle and it explodes from the opening! Imagine the marketing you could do with that!"

"Like . . . champagne?" Diana reorganized herself, patting off Mercedes' fur to little success. "Donovan, did you-"

"My chemistry class used Champagne as a practical example of how Henry's, Charles's, and Boyle's laws can interact with each other. Given a starting concentration of carbon dioxide in the wine and air, as well as an initial internal pressures, volumes, temperatures and cork qualities, I was to find the temperature at which the cork popped and the concentration of carbon dioxide in the champagne at that instant."

"Ah, science mumbo jumbo. I understood every word." Mercedes stretched as she came to her feet as well. "When did you get so good at motivation and persuasion?"

"Uuuuuuh, love? I don't know, it just seemed like what you needed to cheer up." Diana gave Donovan a kiss. It was different from more recent kisses, more in the realm of a gentle, innocent affection than intense attraction or lust. "Did I guess right?"

"I think you would have had a future in marketing." Diana's light chuckle was enough to bring a smile to Donovan's face. 

"Marketing? You mean I'd have to get chummy with people I don't like?"

"And you'd be good at it too!" Diana adjusted his shirt for him, probably looking for something to do with her hands. "Now, let's go finish that experiment. I want to present samples of it at our little leaving banquet tomorrow. I need to convince Morizo that his association with us was the most profitable course of action he could have taken."