[hr] [center] [h2][color=dimgray]Rolands[/color][/h2] [i]Interacting with:[/i] [@Dr Catfish] [@Sigurd] [@Hawlin] [/center] [hr] Rolands had fatally overestimated the Nexus machine's intelligence. One would hope that, if a chair could not hold the metal giant's weight, it would have sense enough to understand the meaning behind the Vice-Captain's order. All meeting attendees should be seated so none serve as a distraction, and more importantly, because it was [b]regulation[/b]. It could have simply hovered it's weight close to the seat, while maintaining all the pressure on it's four legs, so that it only [b]looked [/b]as though it were sitting. Either Nexus was not well-built and strong enough to hold his weight over the chair, or it was not sophisticated enough to comprehend orders that are not given in perfect detail. And if it can only obey orders explained to the letter, how can it ever serve as an explorer? Nexus had revealed a primitive A.I., a poorly designed form, or a disrespect for command. A very deep disappointment, to say the least. "Engineer Nexus," Roland's voice was a slow sigh, "when next we have an opportunity, I need to speak to you. Do you... understand? You may simply respond with the words 'yes' or 'no', please." The human did not actually wait for an answer: in almost the same breath, the subject changed. "However! In a more appropriate time, perhaps the Captain and I can listen to your engineering suggestions, but we will have to arrange a more proper meeting. This is not the place." Again no pause for an answer, again a change of subject, again without delay: "Now we must return to more relevant matters, please." Rolands stood from his chair slowly, with an air of importance, drawing the attention of the room to himself. He had heard Maria's objections; he had chosen not to acknowledge them. It was only another mistake of hers that he would have to remember. Those were piling up quickly. "I will of course attempt to stall the Titchua, with, [i]or without[/i], Ms. Novak," he bluffed. Realistically, Rolands was not nearing that ship without a translator- nor would he feel confident against the Titchua without Lucile at his back. No man in his right mind wants to be within a mile of hostile aliens without a nearby medic or two, or five, or ten. The Second-in-Command held together his monotone, all-business facade, but in his heart, Rolands felt a slow-gathering storm.