ataraxion | [ TEXT ] in which cambridge makes a polite enquiry about her location

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[ TEXT ] in which cambridge makes a polite enquiry about her location

[ Hello, fellow crewmembers. If your device wasn’t on before IT CERTAINLY IS NOW! Cambridge - still nursing the mental wound of her power being so rudely culled and currently feeling obnoxiously disorientated - technopathically shoves a text transmission your way: ]

if somebody doesn't tell me exactly where the fuck I am then I am airlocking the whole bloody ship so help me god.

[ An idle threat, don’t you worry. If she had been at full strength then she might have attempted to slip her way through the ship’s systems but as it is she can barely switch a light off, let alone override the hundreds of security precautions that would undoubtedly stand between her and an airlock. Still, the impulse behind the threat is very real: uncertainty and fear mingled with a desperation to check that she wasn’t going mad and dreaming this all... ]

unless this is some hideously unfunny prank in which case you can all go to hell. bad form, you bastards.

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[ apologising to who now -- WAIT A SECOND ]

[ Cambridge has no idea what exactly this man thinks he is apologising to but as she stares in horrified dismay at her dead communicator it's suddenly dawning on her that perhaps she isn't the only technopath on board... ]

[ She narrows her eyes and slaps on her game face as she mentally punches her comms device back in to life. Taking the technopathic invasion like a personal affront she sends a short, sharp shock back in response and attempts to do the same in return to Heatwave's device. It's about all she can do in her weakened state, but at least it's something. ]

[ GAME ON, HEATWAVE. ]

[Heatwave has only few months with human-made technology, but millions of years experience with machines.]

[Never with a Tehnopath]

[He doesn't expect her to recover so fast and the shock she sends startles him more than it actually does damage. He does the mental equivalent of reeling back, and his comm is halfway through cycling down before he catches it. Reversing the process would damage the comm, so he lets it complete its shut down and hurries it back through turning on. Then he laughs, and her voice might come through her audio in starts, stops, and static.]

You're like me!

[Now that he knows she can't get through to anything dangerous - just like him - he pulls back and works on blocking her access to his comm. No more attacking. If he has to, though, he'll try and stick her comm in an infinite loop to give him time to solidify those defenses. His irritation at her threat was gone. Now he's just excited.]

[ Cambridge is completely certain that she doesn't want to be anything this strange fellow is. She clutches at her comms device, immaculate nails slipping against the hard plastic, and concentrates on doing exactly what Heatwave was doing as well - pulling back and furiously blocking the other technopath from accessing her device. ]

No, I certainly am not! [ Her tone is injured, defensive almost. ]

[So she didn't override the messaging system? Heatwave is a bit disappointed his excitement isn't mirrored, but he figures it would be a shock for some people.]

[And this wasn't exactly the best way to meet.]

I am Heatwave. Don't worry. I won't bother you if you don't bother the ship.

[Trying to talk and make friends isn't being a bother, right? Hestwave makes no further attempts to talk to her communicator, however - it was just as defensive as she was, almost, but in a much more polite way - and withdraws completely. Maybe she just needed time to process the development?]

'Bother the ship'? [ Cambridge sharply repeats his words as she divides her attention between safeguarding her precious comms device and wondering what the fuck kind of people are on this damn spacecraft. ] Good god, is this ship yours? Are you one of the fellows that kidnapped us?

No, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let you mess with it, especially when you're threatening to disengage the airlocks and kill us all. Whatever its crew did, that's not its fault or ours. Leave it alone.

[ There's a long moment of silence as Cambridge very carefully thinks over exactly what Heatwave has said. Finally she breaks the silence and speaks up again in slow, suspicious tones: ]

What did you say your name was?

Heatwave. You don't have to worry about me. I'm not interested in hurting anybody [unless they're designated an enemy BUT THAT WOULDN'T BE HELPFUL HERE. And, because he's optimistic:] What is yours?

[ no, Heatwave, she is worrying about you quite a bit. ]

Imogen, Imogen Moore. [ And then she quickly soldiers on with yet another question! ] Is that a codename?

Ah, no. It's my name. I've not had another one for as long as I can remember.

[Which, considering he had a pretty nasty case of amnesia evenbefore he got on this ship, probably isn't saying much.]

Do you use both names, the first name, or the last name? [because humans, honestly.]

[ she's a little surprised by the question; not very many people have ever asked her that, that didn't know that she had a codename. ] None of them, actually. [ It feels terribly odd to be introducing herself by her codename, but she hardly thinks that anyone out here is in any position to threaten her secret identity on Earth. Still, a little encryption on the audio feed to make it private doesn't seem entirely unreasonable. She takes a breath and adds: ] I suppose you can call me Cambridge, if you care to. Where did you learn technopathy?

[The comm offers him basic encryptions, but Heatwave goes for the Cybertronian ones he remembers. If Cambridge wants this locked, he'll protect it as best he can, though he doesn't see the purpose.]

You had to learn it?

[and she calls it "technopathy". He'd have to remember that.]

Well, it was bestowed upon me. One isn't exactly born with these talents -- [ a pause; the fact that this Heatwave fellow is even asking that question sounds suspicious, and she can't help but query: ] -- or are they?

I...don't know. I cannot remember ever not having them, but it's not as though my memory is the most reliable source. Maybe I had them bestowed as well.

Others were created with their abilities, though.

[ a moment of confusion, and then: ]

What on earth is wrong with your memory? One would have thought that being given a power such as ours - [ yes, ours; she stumbles over the world a little. It's not every day that she openly admits to having technopathy! ] - would be a fairly memorable event.

I can only remember up until a little while before the war started. Everything before that is just not there. [he doesn't sound very concerned about that]

[also forgetting that sometimes he needs to actually explain what "the war" is]

War? Which war?

[ good grief, there are so many aliens on board she half fears to ask such a question. ]

Oh, right. The Great War, I guess - that's what some are calling it. It's a civil war my species has been fighting for a very long time.

[ oh dear, cue a moment of terrifying confusion as Cambridge momentarily wonders if he means the Great War from her dimension. ]

Ah. And I suppose this is the point where I realise you are, in fact, the 'bad guys'.

[ And she's being flippant. Whoops. ]

What?

I don't...think we are. Unless trying to prevent the Autobots from stealing all of an innocent planet's resources is bad, I mean.

I see.

[ Except she really doesn't. Time for a swift topic change. ]

Look here, Heatwave. I rather think you and I should make the most of this meeting of ours; I suppose one might say we have, ah, certain similarities when it comes to powers, so perhaps we could assist each other. What do you say?

That depends on what you're talking about.

This ship and everyone aboard - or nearly everyone, at least - are all terribly unfamiliar and there's something quite unnervingly amiss in this entire affair. Perhaps if either of discover something interesting, or useful, maybe, one could alert the other? A pooling of knowledge and resources, you might say.

Sharing information? That sounds like a plan. We can't all be doing our own thing here.

If I find out anything, or if the ship starts acting more friendly, I'll let you know.

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[ TEXT ] in which cambridge makes a polite enquiry about her location

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