[i]I witness. I obey. I am a dutiful Child.[/i]

There was no light in the pressurized tank that Grick called home - he liked it that way. Apparently it was common in the ships of aliens to have a few rooms 'prepared' in the event that a crewmember needed special accommodation, and Grick lived in one such room. From the door, it looked just like any other room - inside, however, it bottomed out into a pool of dark water, with no furnishings save a waterproof bed bolted to the floor in a corner. Spartan, perhaps, but Grick did not mind it.

[i]Sweet Father, I am blind, I am lost.[/i]

Grick was floating in the dark, his arms clasped around his body, his mind heavy with thoughts of humans. He hadn't known the relevance of what he'd found the day before, not really; he had no idea the look that would come over Captain Ak'sel's voice when he brought it to her, when it relayed its message to the two of them. In truth, the message had mattered little to him. There were all kinds of aliens out there, and Grick would be lying if he said he cared overmuch about the humans. No, what was bothering him was the reaction it had caused from the captain. He hated to be a source of distress for Ak'sel.

[i]Grant me sight. Grant me -[/i]

Two impacts cracked into the wall, reverbrating throughout the pool and causing Grick to double up in pain. The walls of his room were shared with a hallway of the ship, and some of the inmates who wanted to mess with "The Fish" were fond of knocking against them, being well aware of his room's acoustics. It was his burden to bear.

Just then the speaker above him crackled to life and the Captain's summons played. Filled with trepidation, the Child of the Deep grabbed his mask from where it floated next to him, affixed it to his face, and pulled himself out of the water and through the doorway.

Grick lumbered towards the common room slowly, only tripping up once as the ship entered phase jump. He arrived to find several of his fellow Pickers already there, and nodded to each of them in turn in a traditional Child greeting. "Rigger. Paxyntrotka. Zeethree'fivesevenonetwo. I hail you, and pray you have been well."

At Pax's question, the Child of the Deep wiggled his hand-tentacles in a common gesture of nervousness. "I fear I may be to blame for this meeting, Paxyntrotka. I found... well, the Captain will explain."