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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[seriously. so rude. and he doesn't even make a mention of the airlocking threat.]

[a few seconds after the first message is sent]

[ the reply is instantaneous! ]

'no-one knows our situation'. then who in god's name is driving this dinghy.

[ aaaaand she ignores that last question for now. ]

[fine then, he'll just ask more questions.]

how unbelievably rude.

[ you just can't get the staff these days, apparently. ]

there are quite a few airlocks, actually. i could decompress the whole ship in an instant.

[ Cambridge wouldn't call it a lie exactly, more of a creative bluff. ]

Well, I don't think it would help answer your questions, as there wouldn't be anyone anymore to figure this out.

[What even.]

Threatening the other people that just woke up will definitely get you every single answer you could hope for.

And if you're that good of a Slicer, couldn't you get the answer from the ship?

[ with a begrudging mental flick Cambridge switches to audio to match the new voice. ]

Quite. [ her tones are short and sharp with a rich southern English accent that almost sounds a little fake. She raises her voice; the next bit is meant as much for any crew that might be listening as it is for anyone else: ] So if the crew of this damned vessel fancy maintaining whatever it is they're doing, they had better provide us with some answers.

[ slicer? That had better not be some kind of insult. ]

what did you just call me.

[ He props his chin up in the palm of his hand, frowning and still looking incredibly woozy and slightly pained. ]

Funnily enough, my dear, I believe you aren't the only one suffering from the unfortunate predicament of not knowing where in God's name you are, so I highly doubt that essentially threatening your fellow captives in such a manner is a bright start to these proceedings.

Exactly. [Stats has a posh English accent, due to the translation nanites.] However, I don't see any means to remind them, if they're even still around.

[ ohhhhh, Oxford. Did you just suggest she was stupid? Cambridge purses her lips and fixes the video feed a narrow eyed stare. ]

We can't all be prisoners. A complex ship like this won't run itself.

[this reply is significantly delayed]

[As soon as this message pops up, Cambridge's communicator may have just been shut down. Cambridge may have to force it to online again, otherwise it won't for another few minutes.]

[He's attempting to reset her connection. He doesn't know she's a technopath really, but he figures that's where she'd be doing it if she was hacking. If she managed to block him from her communicator in that split second, then he'll be pushing for control.]

A Slicer. You slice computer systems to get them to do what you want.

[This is completely common slang ~~for him~~.]

This is my means. [ she informs him in primm haughty tones. ] If they don't want everything in their precious ship flushed out of an airlock then they will have to talk to me.

This would work if they were actually around and listening, but I wouldn't guarantee it. After all, they would have shown up one way or another, right?

A look at the majority of messages on the network might suggest otherwise. [ His head is far too sore for banter, so he settles for an entirely flat tone instead, gazing at the feed with eyes that are half closed. ] I take it you've a way with technology, perhaps?

[ c a s u a l question, not trying to imply anything at all (obviously) ]

the most anyone seems to have been able to figure out is space. which you've likely been told by multiple people by now.

would prefer to find out myself before being jutted out into oblivion. thanks.

[ 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. ]

Perhaps. We will see. [ She purses her lips irritably and pauses for thought before adding caustically: ] I'll let you know what I discover, shall I?

[ A pause. Slicer. She supposes it isn't as bad as she initially thought. ]

Perhaps I just know how to send a damn good email.

What makes you think airlocking us will kill us?

Something like that. [ Prickly and evasive, Cambridge doesn't sound best pleased with his question: the cotton wool fuzz that seems to have enshrouded all the technology within (mental) reach is absolutely maddening. ] Enough to kick up a damn fine fuss if the right people don't start paying attention to me.

Thanks. I'll do likewise. [Stats has caught the glimmer of irony but chooses not to act on it.]

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