ataraxion | [ 7 ] [ audio : 70% encrypted ] [ forward dated to the day of the next jump ]

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[ 7 ] [ audio : 70% encrypted ] [ forward dated to the day of the next jump ]

[ Hotspur's never been brilliant at encryptions and, to be fair to the man, he's having to encyrpt and transmit the message whilst moving. Moving with a purpose, too; behind the stammered words of the transmission there's the sound of booted feet against metal as he strides his way along the corridors in the direction of the Tranquility's bridge. ]

AUDIO ( "MSG-RECIPIENT: WARD, RESNIK; MSG-ENCRYP: USER MAX;" )
Sir, ma'am - I've found something. [ And he doesn't sound particularly pleased about it, either. Behind his breathless words there's a world of worry and confusion; minor crises of faith aside, Hotspur isn't usually all that easily ruffled. ] I think - I think it's really important. Can we talk?

[ A pause as Hotspur's grip briefly tightens on what he carries in his hands: a blackbox device, salvaged from one of the shuttles. Despite his words he knows it isn't a matter of 'think'; he's convinced it's important. ]

Please?

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[ Please. You've got her attention, Hotspur. ]

I'm all ears. [ We're all ears. ]

[ No, not over the network. Not here, with the smile guy and the hackers and the everything in between. ]

In person? I'm en route to the bridge right now.

[ Well. Must be serious. ]

That's fine. I'll let you in.

I'll be there in a few minutes, ma'am.

[ And with that he breaks the comms link between them; he doesn't trust the network, he feels he has already said far too much. With the blackbox device in his hands he lengthens his strides and grits his teeth as he hurries his pace towards the bridge.

It is only a few minutes before Hotspur is standing breathlessly before the bridge door. He splays a palm against the metal and pauses to take a breath and swallow the sick lurch of nerves that catch at his chest when he allows his heart to catch up with what he's actually about to say. Still, he draws up every last scrap of courage and raps smartly on the door. Knock knock, Wardnik. Hotspur's got a few things to share. ]

[ The knocks are dull thuds, hollow, on the other side of the entrance; Resnik presses a pad to her right where she'd been waiting and the heavy bridge doors slide open with a quiet hiss. Ward's behind her, tall and still and quiet; Resnik moves aside to let Hotspur over the threshold, and her eyes follow his movements, assessing, narrow.

He looks like he'd run. She doesn't have a doubt in her mind that what he has to say is important—not if he's looking like this—and not if that little black box in his hands is any indication.

She says, quietly, ] What can we do for you, Hotspur?

[ A blinding, all-encompassing sense of immediacy had given him the speed and energy with which to come directly up to the bridge and now that he was here, standing at the very threshold, he was determined not to let it desert him now. Not when there was still time, time for explanations to be given and reassurances made and for things to actually turn out in a logical, sensible way. With the shuttle blackbox in one hand he spares the other for a brief salute as his gaze seeks out Ward's beyond Resnik's shoulder - he was the captain, after all - before it drops back down to meet Resnik's. ]

Sir, ma'am - [ The salute falls away without waiting for it to be returned as he crosses the threshold - an oddly uncharacteristic break in military discipline for someone so rigidly respectful as Hotspur. He takes a few steps in before turning abruptly to face the pair. ] - Before I start, I need to check... remind me, the formal line you've been giving us about what happened to the old crew, what is it? [ His expression is clear and his words are thoroughly innocent and calmly measured; there isn't even so much as a trace of accusation behind them. ] That you don't remember?

That we don't know, [ she corrects, neutrally, face carefully blank. Get to the point, she doesn't say, but it's heavy on the air—which seems to have become still as the grave, save for the ever-present mechanical hum in the background. Her eyes flick to the black box pointedly, then back to Hotspur's face. Go on. ]

Right. [ His voice is uncertain; he wants to believe her - desperately so, if only because his entire life has been built on trusting the good word of commanding officers and right now, after the sickening shake recent events has dealt his spiritual belief, he isn't sure he can handle a similar knock to the rest of his world view. A brief nod, then he hefts the black box and his gaze breaks to sweep the consoles that surround them on the bridge. ]

You should see this, then. [ His words are quiet as he examines a nearby monitor and its connecting sockets; the black box is a data repository and sadly lacking in a screen. ] Can you hook me up with a console?

[ She nods, slowly, and moves away towards where Ward is standing. There's a very slim screen on the wall there that's a slate black, disconnected from the network; the jack with which to connect portable devices is on its left side. Resnik motions to it, and steps back to allow Hotspur to connect the box. ]

[ He follows her gesture and deftly moves to attach the device; there's another sudden surge of nervousness but, seasoned in overcoming nerves from years of piloting, his fingers are steady as he thumbs the device on. ]

I was so sure I had checked all of the 'boxes - it was one of the first things I did when I started with the shuttles. [ Bent over the box with his chin tucked in to his chest Hotspur's voice is low and quiet as he fiddles in his attempt to find the entries. ] They were all blank, every single one of them, I swear it...

[ His muttered words are cut off as the monitor springs in to life and the first transmission is brought up before them. Straightening abruptly, Hotspur steps away from the device and points (completely redundantly) at the screen. ]

Ah, this! See, this is the first one - [ He jabs a finger at the screen and turns to gage the reaction of the two officers. ] Gallagher - that's your previous captain, yeah?

[ When the transmission springs up, Resnik's face changes—a subtle thing, and it's gone in a second—but the twist of her mouth is cold and hard. Then she nods again, open and accommodating, but not without surprise. That, at least, she doesn't hide.

Because she knows also that they had all been blank. She'd checked them herself, months ago, when they had been the only ones—before anyone had arrived. Before Smiley. And she knows—given what's been happening recently—she knows that Hotspur finding the transmission could not have been an organic occurrence. Not with the red. ]

Yes, he was. [ She moves forward, scanning the transmission again. Looks back to Hotspur, incredulous. ] This is exactly what we heard before the first jump.

Which doesn't explain why it's here now.

[ To his credit, Ward's face doesn't betray any reaction he might have had to the transmission—but his body language does it for him, as he leans towards the transmission and tenses.

It might be nerves, or guilt, or something else entirely.

As he speaks, however, his gaze remains fixed on the steady flicker of the transmission. It's clearly no accident that this particular missive showed up when it did, but that just raises many, many more questions than it answers. ]

So it's an authentic copy of the transmission, yeah?

[ His voice is quiet - there's no triumph there at having discovered something real and concrete about the lead up to the crew's disappearance. As Hotspur watches the two officers with their heads leaning closer to the screen there's a brief, hideous moment when the light of the text casts a ghastly sheen of red over their faces...

He blinks quickly and looks back down at the device, fiddling again as he searches for the second message. ]

There's more. I - uh. This one isn't so... [ Hotspur's fingers pause as he searches for the right word with a frown before finishing lamely: ] It's not so good.

[ He steps back yet again, and returns his gaze to watch the faces of Ward and Resnik as the second transmission flickers in to life on the console. ]

[ More? ]

Not so good. [ Resnik repeats it, like it might stop him, tracking Hotspur's movements as he switches the transmission to another. There's something coiling in her gut—it's not nervousness and it's not frustration, but whatever it is speaks of how much she doesn't want to see what comes next.

When she does, it takes a monumental effort of will not to twitch.

She doesn't say anything. What can she say? Explain it, she tells herself, but she can't really; not with words.

After a moment, she says, low, ]

That was never broadcast.

Which shuttle did it come from?

We named it Amity, ma'am - shuttle number one-four. [ The promptness of Hotspur's reply belies the feeling of rising tension and worry trapped in the hollow his chest; his eyes sweep back and forth between the officers before him and in the pause that follows his words he crosses his arms defensively before him. ]

Don't you know what he's referring to? At all? [ Hotspur pauses momentarily to lick his lips before adding in quieter tones: ] What wasn't your fault?

[ She notes the shuttle number mentally (and she'll get rid of the black box if she has to), before mirroring the crossed-arms, rigid stance. She shakes her head, exhales. Doesn't look at Ward. ]

I don't know. It was— [ she pauses, brow furrowed. ]

After the first jump, the captain... he changed. We think he went insane. It's happened with others— it was a health risk we all knew of. Space can do things to people's minds.

Captain Gallagher put the passengers at risk. I don't know what he was thinking when made this [ she nods at the transmission ] but I don't think he was in his right mind when he did.

[ Hotspur frowns silently at Resnik; he doesn't even know where to begin. After an awkward silence and a nervous, forced swallow on his part before Hotspur replies quietly: ]

And the accident he refers to?

[ He glances back at the on-screen transmission, eyes scanning over the words as if they were about to offer the reassurance that he's blatantly not about to get from Resnik. ]

I mean - he cuts himself off before he says it properly, but... [ He turns back again, eyes narrowed. ] There's an accident involving the crew, right?

Other than the disappearance? [ She looks at him steadily. ] No.

If there was an accident, it only applied to him. Like I said, he was... dangerous.

[ He tries to hold the steady gaze - he really does try because by the Gods he wants to believe everything she says... but then the words daubed in the mystery room in the corridor come to mind. Don't believe everything they say. The gaze is broken and Hotspur glances back at the screen. ]

Well, the disappearance didn't only apply to him. And he said 'our' fault. [ Then, more firmly: ] I mean, that sentence - it could have finished 'the crew are disappearing' for all we know...

For all we know. [ She sighs, and it sounds tired. But she's all sharp edges now, isn't quite hitting the level where she needs to be, not quite managing to act like someone Hotspur can trust and confide in. She knows he's the kind of man who wants that, because it's clear in his demeanor, but what he wants and what Resnik can give him are two very different things. ]

But we don't know.

[ She tries to soften her tone a little. This can't be easy for Hotspur, and it's sure as hell not easy for her (and if she knows Ward, and she does, he's more wound than a clock, ready to strike at any moment) so she— relaxes, forcefully. And tells the truth. ]

He didn't disappear.

[ I can't stay here, the transmission had said. I have to go. Gallagher had clearly had a plan. Hotspur forces his gaze back to Resnik with palpable unease. ]

He didn't?

[ There are many people who would openly refer to Hotspur as naive. Gullible, too. Maybe even a fool. If said to his face, Hotspur would shrug it off with a grin and not take the criticism to heart. He knows that it's not any of that; it's just another form of hope. And not only does he hope that the answer Resnik is going to give him is going to explain everything, he puts his last remaining scrap of trust in to it as well. They're military. They're officers. This is their ship now. They understand that he, Hotspur, is one of the only two people on this ship that can actually find it in themselves to dredge up this unfathomable trust - in the face of everything they've seen so far - and knows that Ward and Resnik can get them all through this. ]

Then where did he go?

[ Ward abruptly glances over at Resnik as she finishes speaking, face showing what might almost be shock, closely followed by a cold fury, before he schools his expression back into its usual deadpan state. ]

Resnik.

[ It's not quite a command, not yet, but Ward's voice is definitely a warning. They're edging into dangerous territory here, and no one is going to like where this conversation leads. ]

Ward. [ Her eyes flick to the side, and she shifts stance ever-so-slightly. Shut up, her tone says, equally as cold. He deserves to know.

Then she says, quite evenly, to Hotspur: ]

Gallagher started attacking the crew. He was—rabid. We tried to subdue him, but he escaped. He was going to massacre us.

So I killed him.

[ Hotspur is still - stock still, with every fiber of his being fixed on rigidly staring at Resnik - and for a few wild moments he entertains the idea that no, okay, that's completely fair enough, what a logical explanation this is.

Except no, years of military logic and precedence kicks in. He shakes his head briefly. ]

He was your captain, he - you're an engineer. You said before that there was a known risk of madness, right? Wasn't there - I mean, there must have been a protocol to deal with it, surely? A doctor, military police, marines... an XO to relinquish him of duty... [ His eyes briefly snap to Ward, questioning. Ward's the captain now; what had he been before? Hotspur lifts his chin. ] And he doesn't seem that mad in the transmission. [ A pause. ] Sir.

Edited 2012-06-07 21:51 (UTC)

He... turned on the bridge—and this wasn't a military vessel. What troops we had couldn't get mobilized in time, not when the entire civilian command was dead.

[ It's said with the unshakeable confidence of an incontrovertible fact. The sky is (generally, where Ward's from) blue, the Tranquility is sadly lacking in windows, and the entire civilian chain of command died on the bridge.

Ward doesn't sound particularly broken up about it, however. ]

[ You're an engineer. Oh, but she isn't just.

It's her turn to favor Ward with a look of barely concealed rage. Not shock, because she's not shocked, but—entire civilian command. You moron. ]

His psych eval was clean. [ Another glance at the transmission. ] The timestamp is five days after the jump. Routine check-ups happened monthly for crew. Passengers by appointment. Nobody could have predicted it. [ A muscle in her jaw tightens. ]

Madness isn't always the screaming kind, Hotspur. [ She says this as calmly and coolly as Ward had, but her eyes are dark. ] He didn't try and kill us immediately. Relieving him of duty wouldn't have stopped him.

So you knew. [ The words are soft and simple but carry a confused brand of deep dismay. His words are addressed to both of them - a shared 'you' - but it's on Resnik that he levels his gaze. ] Not only did you know what had happened to... to the entire civilian command - [ A statement that had so many questions of it's own ] - but that they were murdered. And that this - this madness that caused it is a risk that comes with the jumps... [ He narrows his eyes as he gets to the real core of what hurt, more than the fear and the dread of Gallagher and the crew's fates: ] And you didn't tell us?

Edited 2012-06-07 23:01 (UTC)

It was one man out of thousands. [ Resnik holds his gaze, blank and sure. There's nothing there. ] It's been months, and nobody has experienced anything of the kind since. Telling you—telling everyone—wouldn't have been productive.

I'm sorry for keeping it from you. [ She sounds like she is. She isn't. ] And I'm sorry you had to find out this way. But we have problems here that are more important than what happened in the past.

Productive? [ Hotspur echoes the word under his breath with an acutely aghast expression as Resnik continues to explain. Only when she's finished does he speak up again, this time take a short step towards them both appealingly. ] Captain, Commander - for all you know the problems you have here are because of what's happened in the past!

[ He reigns himself in and he turns guarded, adding in less certain tones, ]

Unless... there's more you haven't told us?

[ It's almost sweet how willing he is to forgive them their trespasses. She shakes her head, uncrossing her arms, but her body language is far from calm. ]

We might have been able to pinpoint the catalyst, but those transmissions—what happened—

[ Of course there's more they haven't told you. ]

—we don't know. It's possible.

[ And there's bone-deep frustration there, and a heavy truth, because they don't know why. They might know more than they're letting on, but not why it had to be them. Why it had to happen at all. By all rights, this ship should be empty. It should be dead in the water, it should be a shell. The mission failed. But they're here. ]

We need to focus on what's happening now, and deal with it now. Can you handle that, Flight Lieutenant?

[ Had the question, phrased as it is, been asked after any other kind of conversation then Hotspur's answer would have been an instinctive yes, ma'am. But, no, he stares back at Resnik blankly, unable to formulate any reply that doesn't make him look like their enemy (in the case of 'no') or a liar (in the case of 'yes'). ]

What's happening now - [ Hotspur's voice is considerably steadier than how he feels. ] - Is that you've got an entire crew who doesn't trust you because they reckon you know more than you let on. This isn't 'dealing with it', ma'am.

I'm not asking anyone to trust me. [ She'd never asked that. Perhaps because she'd known, instinctively, that this would happen—sooner or later. ] The moment our crew and passengers vanished is the moment this stopped being about anything but survival. I'm asking you to stay alive, Hotspur.

You think that us telling you everything will help. [ It's a flat tone, non-accusatory, but frank. ] It won't. It didn't help us, and we were there.

None of you asked to be here. No matter how much we say, and no matter how heartfelt it is, there will always be someone who will think we're lying. We're fine with that—but we don't want anyone else to die. There's been enough of that already.

I don't mean to intrude
But I can't help but ask
What did you find?

Edited 2012-06-05 16:47 (UTC)

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[ 7 ] [ audio : 70% encrypted ] [ forward dated to the day of the next jump ]

AUDIO | 70% ENCRYPTED | WARDNIK + HOTSPUR

AUDIO | 70% ENCRYPTED | THEM THREE

AUDIO | 70% ENCRYPTED | STARSHIP THREEPERS

actionnnnnnnnnnnnnn

ACCIÓN!

forever and ever and ever

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those two icons go together so beautifully I cannot resist a repeat

SOB YES THEY DO

dear god a second headtilt icon I AM UNPREPARED

so many headtilts, so little time (also: BE PREPAAAAAAARED)

yeaheheh we'll be prepared........,. .. for what?

well uh. ..... .... ............ thin...... g.... s......

woah there rezzer

gurl what are you doing. what, what, WHAT are you doing.

shut up ward you're not the boss of her!!!!

good god this parachute is a backpack

is there something fundamentally unmarryable about me? well?????

your mother warned you there'd be days like these!!

this genuinely has not been their day, week, month or year

n o p e :c

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text; STARFLEET ENCRYPTIONS 90%