Varit watches from the side of the room, his huge, jelly-like Taxxon eyes not needing to track in order to see everyone. He listens carefully, trying to decide how to word what he has to add to the conversation. He's been at sensors, as a part of the Tyrennian's primary crew, for a few months now, and yet he still feels like an outsider.
There's probably a reason for that, he reflects, looking down at his bulbous host's body. His insistence on keeping his Taxxon host has made him an outsider among the Rebels as well. The Rebellion felt like a family when he had Jenny as a host, and even, to some degree, when he was confined to the pool. Being stuck with Resseliss, however, he's coming to the realization that one's physical self plays a huge part in the way one is perceived, and thereby in the way one is treated by others. The world is a much less friendly place for a Taxxon. Oddly enough, he's felt most accepted by the Andalite crew. Perhaps, he reflects, getting to know a Taxxon-Controller is a pretty small jump for them, when they're already being forced to learn to work with so many Yeerks anyway.
Varit's been approached, on more than one occasion, about abandoning his host to die, or attempting to put Resseliss in stasis; a procedure which Varit knows is risky at best, considering the Andalites' lack of consideration for Taxxons when designing their stasis equipment. Though it might be prudent to leave Resseliss, given the Taxxon's rampant food and water consumption, and though it might improve the quality of his own life, Varit has not been able to bring himself to cast Resseliss to the wind quite so easily. As long as Varit has a host, there's more he'll be able to do to help the Rebellion. Beyond that, Varit considers Resseliss closer than a friend at this point. Resseliss once saved Varit's life, and the Taxxon has demonstrated an emotional and cognitive capacity that most beings wouldn't think his species capable of. For Varit, watching his host's growth and enthusiasm over the last nine months has been rewarding, to say the least. Recently, Varit's begun to think of Resseliss almost as his child. Almost.
Besides, Varit would be useless at sensors without Resseliss.
"Protocol would indicate that we should verify the lack of threats in the region," he says, wincing at what he perceives as the unpleasantness of his Taxxon voice. "We've been keeping our profile low until the repairs and modifications to the Tyrennian could be completed, which is understandable, but as the... as our First Officer pointed out, there's very little chance this system's gone untouched for this long. We should have done a proper charting of the system weeks ago." He tries to keep the accusation and the indignation out of his voice as much as possible. "Map our area properly. Ins and outs. Dangers. Pitfalls. Opportunities. Give ourselves more to go on than a few cursory scans."
<That will have to be moved down the priority list, Varit,> comes an emotionless, calm voice from the edge of the room. Aetheas. Unlike most of those in the room, he has his back turned to the holo table. He stands a little straighter these days than he did before accepting his position as the Tyrennian's TO, but his tail still isn't really held high enough for one of his stature. Some attribute it to his still-green status in the position. Some would say it has to do with the fact that, as a vecol, he has no business being aboard the ship in the first place, let alone its Combat Elite. Aetheas himself would simply point to the crook in his tail, saying that it causes him pain to stand so tall all the time.
Instead of examining the holo-display at the center of the room, Aetheas's main eyes look out the window and 'down' to where he can make out the starboard dorsal portion of the Tyrennian. From here, all he can see is the prominent arch of the main Shredder and the graceful curve of the dome falling away from them. The ship has certainly seen better days-- even from this distance, some wear and a few scorch marks are still visible-- but now that they've managed to construct a more-or-less functioning spacedock, at least they can maintain her properly.
"There might be food," Varit points out-- a statement with which his host immediately identifies.
<Maybe,> concedes Aetheas, turning away from the window and taking a few steps towards the table, <but I doubt it.> The space before his main eyes is clear of the simulations and information his ARC is usually projecting in the air before him these days. It's a rarity to see Aetheas not working on some theory or some bit of information or study. It's obvious he considers this particular meeting to be of some import.
<Our food supplies are reaching critical levels,> he says, and the holo-display in the center of the room flickers, switching to a number of somewhat-decipherable graphs and graphics which apparently show food consumption rates, nutritional needs, and total Calories remaining aboard the Tyrennian. As he speaks, Aetheas looks more towards Ossanlin and Claxter than any of the others. He still feels most comfortable talking to his Captain and his mentor. <I recommend we raid a Yeerk outpost to secure the supplies we need and give ourselves some breathing room. It could give our new FO a chance to get a feel for command in a real combat situation. If we leave a few auxiliary craft here, the Rebels remaining on the station can use them to begin mapping the surface at their leisure.>
<To say there are technological hurdles between us and proper camouflage would be an understatement,> he says to Rythil. <The portion of the tessellation field you have functioning won't help us at the moment. That, too, will have to be moved down the priority list.> He looks to Ferxal, then to Keshin, his facial expression unchanging. <The Tyrennian would require its primary bridge crew for this mission if we go forward. There will be time for exploration and relaxation when we return.>