The universe spoke to me

Wed, 24 Sep 2008 15:39:05 GMT

Thelma, please feed the cat. I'm staying in my room today.

~~I wish Cal hadn't left.~~

[ooc: Morn killed an entire starship and all its crew with self-destruct and most of that crew were family. She'll be freaking out in the shower all day.]

Mon, 15 Sep 2008 03:16:32 GMT

Now what do I do?

And how do I tell if it's male or female?

Fri, 12 Sep 2008 03:13:53 GMT

Can anyone help me get a cat and tell me where to get "MarioKart"?

[ooc: Cal says they help, so she's going to give them a try.]

Wed, 10 Sep 2008 17:38:18 GMT

~~Why me? Why me? Why me?~~

Why would anyone hide an anti-mutagen from the whole of the human race? Why would they expose us to alien genetic imperialism?

Will Nick kill Davies?

Sat, 06 Sep 2008 02:10:01 GMT

I'm sorry, for the cold, Thelma. I can't help the ice storm.

I'll just stay in my room until this passes.

Fri, 15 Aug 2008 23:44:53 GMT

I never thought I'd want to go home to get away from here instead of because I have things to do there.

Dr. House, your bedside manner is terrible, but you already know that.

Private to Vicious//Unhackable
I'm sending the latest data over. Let me know if there's anything specific I need to be following.

Voice

Tue, 12 Aug 2008 15:48:59 GMT

I don't know who you are, but I have a gun. Now just move.

[ooc: And what woman with issues about men doesn't love waking up handcuffed to a strange man? At least she sleeps in pajamas? And at least the man is Alfred.]

Memory Theater

Fri, 08 Aug 2008 00:45:07 GMT

She followed the smell away from the lift without pausing to consider the likelihood that the galley was already in use.

She could smell coffee because the galley had no door: it was essentially a large niche in one of the interior bulkheads, with equipment built into the three walls and a round, easily reached table. She noticed a particularly luxurious foodvend, quite a few storage cabinets for staples and special supplies, and, of course, a coffee maker. The pot steamed richly in the ship's dry atmosphere.

She also noticed a man sitting at the table.

At the sight, she froze again. She didn't know whether to retreat or move forward. Everything was dangerous, and she didn't know which risk was preferable. But she remembered to keep her fists in her pockets.

The man had his hands wrapped around a hot mug as if he wanted the warmth. His fingers looked fat because they were stubby, and his face looked fat because it was almost perfectly round; nevertheless he was only compact, not overweight. Like his face, his eyes were circles.They were a gentle shade of blue Morn had never seen before. Combined with his fine, sandy hair and his steady smile, they made him look friendly.

He glanced up as soon as she appeared. When he saw her, his eyes and his smile showed mild surprise. She obviously didn't disconcert him, however. He gave her a moment to move if she could. Then he said, “You look like what you need most is sleep but you're too scared to get it.” His voice was mild, too. “Come have a cup of coffee. It's fresh. Maybe I can give you a reason or two to be less scared.”

Morn stared at him. She wasn't prepared to trust anything aboard Captain's Fancy - especially not mildness from a total stranger. It might be camouflage, like Nick's air of relaxation. She stood where she was, with her elbows locked and her hands buried.

Controlling her voice as well as she could, she said, “You know who I am.”

The man's smile held. “I should,” he replied without sarcasm. “I saw you in Mallorys often enough. And you're the only passenger Nick invited to go with us this time. That's one reason you're scared. We all know who you are - we know that much about you. You don't know any of us. You only know Nick, and that may seem like it's not much help.”

He paused, giving her a chance to say something or move. When she didn't do either, he resumed.

“Well, let me introduce myself, at any rate. I'm Vector Shaheed. Ship's engineer. Off duty at the moment. My second is a pup off Valdor Industrial, where they don't teach you anything, but he's competent to keep us going under this much thrust. So I've got time to exercise my only real talent, which is making coffee.”

Morn continued staring at him. Her hands were damp with sweat, but she kept them curled in her pockets.

Stiffly, as if all his joints hurt - but still smiling - Vector Shaheed stood up to get a mug from one of the cabinets. He filled it at the steaming pot and set it on the table for her. Then he seated himself again.

“That's not a reason to trust me, of course,” he continued. “We're all illegals, and you're UMCP. You would have to be crazy to trust any of us. But we're alone here, and I'm willing to talk. You really can't afford to miss an opportunity like this.”

That made sense. Morn shook her head - not rejecting what he said, just trying to break herself out of her paralysis. She felt a visceral desire to pull away from him.

His mildness was seductive: he was a trap. But she was trapped anyway; and whatever he chose to reveal might be useful.

With a stiffness of her own, she entered the galley.She didn't take her fists out of her pockets until she was sitting at the table. Then, abruptly, she pulled up both hands and cupped them around the coffee mug. She needed something to steady her so that she could think.

The coffee was seductive, too, but she was prepared to trust it.

He was right about one thing, anyway: he had a talent for coffee. A couple of hot sips made her feel almost instantly stronger. In simple gratitude, she said through the steam, “Thanks.” Then she sipped again.

“That's better.” To all appearances, Vector Shaheed's approval was genuine. “I don't like to see anybody scared - especially not a woman like you. Out here, there's many an old spacer who thinks women are worth dying for. I myself” - his smile became rueful for a moment – “am gratified just to have you sit here and drink my coffee. What would you like to know about us?”

Without thinking, Morn asked, “Where are we going?”

Vector's smile lost none of its soft ease, but the muscles around his eyes tightened. He drank some of his coffee before he replied, “You can probably guess that that's not one of the subjects I'm prepared to talk about.”

She shook her head again, chagrined by her own weakness. She shouldn't have asked that question: it exposed too much. And she certainly couldn't ask what exigency had called Nick to the bridge. Groping for some sense of poise, of being in control of herself, she tried again.

“How bad is the gap drive?”

His eyes relaxed. “Bad enough. Bad enough so I can't fix it myself, anyway. If I had to stake my reputation on it, I would say we can get into tach and out again one more time. If I had to stake my life on it” - he chuckled gently – “I would say it's too dangerous.”

“How long can you last without it?”

“At least a year. We've got that much food and stores. Not to mention plenty of fuel. At the rate we're traveling, we'll starve before we run out of fuel.”

Vector's manner didn't give the words any special importance. Nevertheless Morn knew they were important. As long as Captain's Fancy used only this gentle thrust, there was only one destination Nick could reach in a year: the belt. And of course there was no place in the belt to get a gap drive repaired. But even at much higher velocities, Captain's Fancy had nowhere else to go in human space.

Forbidden space was another matter. Its proximity to the belt and Com-Mine Station was a large part of what made them so crucial to the UMC - and to all human- kind. Running hard, the ship could probably get there in a few months. But then what? The possibility that Nick might be headed for forbidden space was too complex for Morn to evaluate. In any case, Com-Mine Center would never have authorized a departure trajectory in that direction.

Vector watched her think for a while. Then he started talking again. “I offered you a reason or two to be less scared. I can see that wasn't one of them. Let me try again. There are twenty of us aboard, and from your point of view we probably all look like reasons to be scared. But that isn't true. I don't mean you can trust us. I mean you don't need to worry about whether you can trust us. The only one of us you need to worry about is Nick. You see” - Vector spread his hands – “he isn't just the captain here. He's the center, the law. None of us is a threat to you, as long as he's happy.

“And I'll tell you something else about him. He never gives away his castoffs. You don't need to worry that he'll get tired of you and pass you off to one of us. You're his. On this ship, you're either his or you're nothing. That's why it doesn't matter whether you can trust any of us. We're no danger to you. We never will be. All you have to worry about is Nick. Everything else will take care of itself.”

Morn was stunned. Hearing her dilemma stated so nakedly made her brain go blank. He's the law. He never gives away his castoffs. It doesn't matter whether you can trust any of us. But because Vector was smiling at her, and she knew she couldn't afford to be paralyzed, she forced herself to ask, “Is that supposed to help me feel better?”

“'It should,” he replied promptly. “It simplifies your situation.”

Her mind was practically useless. “I guess you're right,” she said slowly, struggling to think, to articulate her incomprehension in some way. 'But it would help me more if I understood it. Why-?

Why are you so loyal to him? Why is he my only problem? You're all illegals, you said that yourself. I don't know why you do it, but you all want to get away from law somehow. That's got to be true.” The only pirate she knew personally, Angus Thermopyle, would have committed any conceivable atrocity to make sure nobody else had power over him.

“You don't want rules, you want opportunities. So why is he the law? Why do you let him do that? Why does what he wants take precedence over what the rest of you want?”

Vector Shaheed seemed to consider that a good question. His eyes appeared inordinately blue and clear as he answered, “Because he never loses.”

Then he grinned like a man with a secret joke. “Besides, it's axiomatic that nobody likes law more than us illegals do. It's a love-hate relationship. The more we hate the UMCP, the more we love Nick Succorso.”

Morn blinked at him. “That doesn't make sense.”

Vector lifted his shoulders in a mild, humorous shrug.

A moment passed before she noticed just how smoothly he'd distracted her from his first answer.

While she was still trying to collect her thoughts, however, the intercom in the galley chimed. The same neutral voice she'd heard earlier said, “Morn Hyland, come to the bridge.”

A moment later Vasaczk added, “Acknowledge.”

Morn didn't move. She was frozen again; taken by surprise and snared in fright.

Vector's stiffness seemed constant. His movements gave such an impression of resistance in his joints that Morn expected him to wince as he got up from his chair and went over to the intercom. Nevertheless his expression remained as calm as blue water: any pain he may have felt remained far below the surface.

Keying the intercom, he responded, “She's with me. I'll make sure she doesn't get lost.” Then he clicked off the pickup.

By way of explanation, he told Morn, “This will give me an excuse to be on the bridge. I want to know what's going on myself.'

She hardly heard him. No, she insisted to herself, no, don't panic, not now. Any risk she failed to face might kill her: she could only hope to survive if she met each danger as it came. Don't panic now.

Nevertheless she was suddenly afraid right to the bottom of her belly. And the zone implant control was back in her cabin; she had no defense. She could feel what remained of her will crumbling. Her reserves drained out of her as if she were a broken vessel. Without her black box, she was only the woman Angus had raped and tormented, nothing more. If Vector Shaheed had left her alone, she would have put her arms down on the table and hidden her face against them.

He didn't do it. Instead he touched her shoulder gently, urging her to her feet.

She stood as though she were under his control.

“Come on,” he said. “You don't want to miss this. It might be interesting. You can be scared later.”

His hand on her shoulder guided her out of the galley.

“I told you you don't need to worry about whether you can trust us. That's true. But there are a couple of people you should watch out for. Mikka Vasaczk is one. She can't hurt you - but she would if she could.”

A moment later, in the same tone of secret humor he'd used earlier, he added, “Hell, we all would.”

Voice
We all would...

At least you tried, Vector.... I hope you're watching out for Davies.

Voice Post

Tue, 05 Aug 2008 04:01:26 GMT

[Her voice sounds distant, weak, but devoid of emotion.]

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

I need... Is there an ambulance service? Coordinates follow.

Mon, 04 Aug 2008 18:02:02 GMT

I am so far from home, swept away by a pirate whose wants are things no maiden should be forced to even think upon.

I need a hero to rescue me from all that has befallen. Someone dashing. Not a pirate, a privateer. A man who will see my inner torment and take me away from all thought of it to be lost in him.

I want to give myself.

Who will be there to take me?

[ooc: >.< ]

Lists

Tue, 22 Jul 2008 23:14:11 GMT

Coffee
Eggs
Cheese
Milk (from real cows)
Bread
Apples
Shoulder holster
Onions
Noodles
Bandages
Bars for the windows
Heavier curtains
Cat
Sheets
Pillows
Pillow cases
Switchblade
San paper
Towels
Thyme
Chicken
Steel-reinforced safety door
Sugar
Flour
Cooking Oil
Peppers
Rice
Seaweed
Vinegar
~~Peace~~

Tue, 15 Jul 2008 16:36:15 GMT

No.

There was a time when the watchword was "to serve and protect," but the police have been perverted to "to serve and protect those in power." That's not how it's supposed to work.

I'm not going to tolerate this.

Mon, 14 Jul 2008 00:03:38 GMT

The curses just keep getting stranger. Those dresses yesterday weren't so terrible, though. It's easy to be anonymous when you're completely hidden. Terrible for security, you'd think. They're no foil to retinal recognition, but not all security systems are set up for retinal scans.

Private to Vicious
I'm sending over this week's data. Nothing particular stands out to me, but you may see what I didn't.

Fri, 11 Jul 2008 03:26:38 GMT

Thank you to the people who helped me or offered help yesterday.

I guess I have to give the blaster back.

Thu, 10 Jul 2008 03:39:16 GMT

I need a gun.

Please.

Voice Post

Wed, 18 Jun 2008 17:12:13 GMT

[The sound cuts in on the tail end of something that might have been a scream, but is now dissolving into a whimper and sobs.]

It's in me. Oh, God. Oh, God, it's in me.

I'm still human? How long does it take to work?

My skin's still normal. What if it's like that one on Enablement? What if they get it right? What if I'm the successful kaze?

I should kill myself before it starts to work.

What if it's working already? How will I know?

[ooc: Um... did I mention that Morn has Issues? >>;; One of these days real soon I'll have to do a writeup post on her canon and her mood swings. She's cursed with the big fear of her canon universe - genetic imperialism and assimilation by aliens called the Amnion.]

Sat, 14 Jun 2008 21:09:36 GMT

I don't understand.

Would someone please explain why there was a talking hat and what it means? I've looked up "Slither in" and "Griffin Door" but I don't see anything that makes it make sense.

[ooc: Given the lies she's told, the addiction she conceals rather than getting help for, and the fact that she's responsible for the deaths of much of her family, Slytherin was definitely an option. The determination she has to do right by the human race against an alien threat and her dedication to her son, Davies, despite his resemblance to his father went the Gryffindor way. So the hat muttered about it, etc., and eventually went Gryffindor.]

Thu, 12 Jun 2008 23:59:30 GMT

I survived Angus Thermopyle.

I tricked Nick "I never fucking lose" Succorso.

If I have to, I can do anything.

Voice Post

Sun, 01 Jun 2008 03:53:51 GMT

[murmured, slurred at the edges with pain]

Keep it together, Morn. It doesn't matter. Just turn it up and the it will go. It always goes. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter.

[ooc: Morn's unaware that this is being broadcast. Sadistic City.]

Tue, 27 May 2008 00:21:22 GMT

He's so delicate.

What is he?

[ooc: Morn's daemon is a luna moth.]

Ice cream?

Wed, 21 May 2008 15:53:07 GMT

I licked my lips and they tasted of sweets.

I'm not certain we aren't all mad here, but it's a very detailed madness. Thanks to Vicious, I have an apartment. ~~I don't want to be in his debt.~~ Thank you.

I don't know what to do with myself.

What place does ~~a UMCP ensign -~~ a former UMCP ensign have planetside in a world utterly unknown in human space?

I am a good programmer and technician. I am a functional mechanic for most needs anyone's likely to have here. I wouldn't want to fix a gap drive, but so far, no one seems to know what one is.

~~I need Davies!~~

[ooc: Strikes deleted or not there to begin with. Morn used my time away to try to get her bearings and is ready to make her first exploratory forays into City life. I'm home from PA and playing hooky from work today. Huzzah.]

Voice Post

Tue, 13 May 2008 01:41:34 GMT

[A young woman's voice, shaking with an effort of control that cracks at the edges.]

Davies? Davies!

[a sob, cut off and muffled]

Nick? Please, Nick!

What do you want? I'll do it. Anything. Just let Davies go. Don't give him to the Amnion. I'll tell the UMCP anything you want. I'll do anything you want.

[whispered as though to keep from screaming]

Don't hurt him, Nick. Please.

[ooc: Hi, Morn. Life sucks, eh? She's inside the Hall of the Missing, not even aware of her surroundings yet.]