ataraxion | [ 6 ] [ video ] less derring-do than quiet care

[ The really interesting thing about this video broadcast is the fact that it's not actually coming from inside the Tranquility. Hotspur's in the pilot seat of the first shuttle - the one he affectionately named Faith all those months ago back when they all first arrived. His face is lit by the soft glow of the avionic displays in front of him and he sits back from the controls, slack-handed and staring with thick pre-occupation out of the shuttle windows instead.

His comms device - propped up on the co-pilots seat beside him - offers a profile view of Hotspur's features... and beyond him, a bit of the outer hull of the Tranquility suspended against the backdrop of deep space.

Red-eyed, ashen-faced... Hotspur's clearly hasn't been sleeping very well. Being the robust, brick-outhouse sort of fellow that isn't prone to negativity it usually takes a hell of a lot to make him feel less than 100% of his usual awesomeness but here we are. His expression is pained and with one hand he absently fidgets with the loose-hanging metal dogtags that fall around his neck. He doesn't speak up immediately but when he does it's a distant murmur. ]

...Full of them. Even the bad ones.

[ It's an off-hand comment more to himself than the video feed running live beside him. But then, as if only just remembering that it was recording, he seems to pull himself together and turn his head to address the comms device directly. ]

Look, I know not everyone out here's got much time for talk about the Gods and religion and all that but for those folk that do...

[ He pauses and exhales a brief sigh; this little crisis of faith is turning out to be pretty damn painful and he briefly struggles to hunt down the right words to express what he wants to ask. ]

Well. I'm kind of strugglin' to see how this whole... adventure fits in with whatever it is the Gods have got in store for me. For us all. I mean, it's not that I don't have faith that They know what's best, I... I just --

[ He pauses again and his gaze travels wildly around the cockpit until it fixates on the massive hull of the Tranquility beyond the shuttle's screen. ]

I'm not really sure if demons and possessions and all that is just a really really effective test of faith or that maybe we're all just a little bit too far away for the Gods to help us.

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[ Oh, Hotspur. Well, we know how Heather feels about Gods, but how she feels about faith is a different matter entirely. Heather has great faith: faith in her father and the choices he made to save her, faith that the choice to save her in itself was a right one. Faith that she's been given all the tools she needs to survive, even if she doesn't quite have a concept of who's behind that giving. And Hotspur is someone she genuinely likes, so even if this is way out of her depth? She's gonna try. ]

Maybe it's not a test of faith, but a chance to use it? I mean... When you look at everything we've been through and the fact that nobody's straight-up died, that's gotta count for something, right? We haven't been thrown anything that we couldn't handle between us.

Well, actually... [ Hotspur shifts uncomfortably, hesitant to have to correct Heather on something quite so morbid. ] People have died. Those skeletons back in the mystery room were pretty dead.

[ Some people may accuse him of splitting hairs - the corpses, as far as anyone could tell, weren't actually from any of the monthly influxes of 'alien' crew. But still, Hotspur hardly considered it quibbling when they were still lives that had been cut mysteriously short. ]

But I get what you're saying, yeah. I guess we've done pretty well so far, all said. [ He smiles, mirthlessly. ] We're a tough bunch.

[ It's right on the tip of her tongue to say yeah, but they weren't ours when the thought catches up with her and she stuffs a knuckle into her mouth. How the hell did she get from trying to take bones so they could be identified and remembered to here? Maybe they are too far from whatever it is that keeps people good. ]

Christ, you're right. I'm sorry. I'm not great at this.

[ The mirthless smile softens a little as he watches Heather's reaction. ]

It's okay, Heather. No need to apologise.

[ They've all been through so much lately; it's only human that things might be forgotten. That's what he's been telling himself lately, anyway. He ducks his head a little, voice dropping to a more conspiratorial tone, as he asks: ]

How are you doing, by the way? Are you okay?

Hey, I'm me. That's one up on last jump, right?

[ Ah, the Mason Method™ of dealing with problems - shoot it, ignore it, or joke about it, and quickly focus on somebody else's. Of course, it's been a rough time all around so she's off-form, and her voice is probably a lot softer and more concerned sounding than she's aiming for when she adds: ]

You look like shit, Hotspur. You sleeping?

[ He attempts a laugh - because that's what Heather was going for, right? Humour? - but the results aren't particularly convincing. The feeble laugh dissolves in to an evasive cough at her question and he pulls a self-deprecating expression before replying. ]

Yeah. Sort of. Now it's my turn to have the bad dreams.

[ Talking of which. ]

Those dreams we talked about before... [ All laughter is gone now; he regards her solemnly over the video feed. ] You did have them, right? Or was that just the -- [ He gestures. The demon lying. ]

[ Oh

shit.

Her eyes widen, her hands raise in an involuntary, placatory gesture. Worst friend ever, for that not to be the first thing she says to him. ]

No! No, that was - she was messing with you. I don't think I've ever dreamed about birds in my life, and -

[ when she dreams about suffocating it's not a mystery in the gardens, it's knee in her stomach and a hand over her face ]

she made it up. To scare you, I guess. She didn't like you very much. Which I guess is kind of an endorsement, if you think about it.

[ He wishes he could say that he's relieved but there's no real relief to be found; not when odd nightmares would probably be preferable to possession in any case. Instead he nods slowly, recalling the demon's words and now looking back on the whole conversation in an entirely new light. ]

Yeah, I suppose you're right. [ Except he doesn't seem all that convinced. Not really. ] And not dreaming about dead birds can only be a good thing, I guess.

Not dreaming about dead anything is always a good night.

[she shrugs, and her smile is gentle. ]

Listen, there were really only two people here she tried to get a handle on and couldn't. You were one of them, and I'm pretty sure it was your faith that did the trick. I... I know we've got really different outlooks on Gods and religion, but I gotta be honest - sometimes I envy you that. Don't lose it, okay? Otherwise I'm just gonna have to be jealous of your dashing good looks.

[ and because even Heather realizes a crisis of faith isn't something to joke about: ]

You're a good guy, Hotspur. And I don't mean that like nice, I mean Good. Like with a capital G. If they're gonna have anyone's back, it's gonna be yours.

[ He laughs at her line about 'dashing good looks' - a mirthless laugh, all told - but the rest of what she says leaves him troubled and downcast. ]

It's good of you to say that, Heather - it really is. It - it means a lot. [ Which it absolutely does. Hotspur isn't really one for lying, even for the benefit of others. He summons a smile as best he can as he adds: ] And a capital G, yeah? That's got to be worth something.

[ 6 ] [ video ] less derring-do than quiet care

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