driftfleet | A cry for help

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A cry for help

[a distress call has been tracked across the void, finally leading back to the source. a hulking crippled ship, teeming with hostile alien life, now lies before you.

what do you do? do you dive in or hang back? are you here to learn, play, build, or observe?

however you choose to proceed, your audience is out there somewhere, watching.]

ooc: here is a good ol' themed mingle to get you all started! and don't feel limited by the prompts and what they describe--they're just there as idea-starters, so feel free to go anywhere and do anything.

have fun!

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Where I come from, most humans aren't religious. Not anymore. So I was never raised to believe in anything otherworldly.

[She snorts.] Besides, I've met some of the people who like to pass themselves off as gods and I hardly see why I should be offering them any sort of worship.

You're all orphans, so I suppose that is understandable.

[and he gives a little shrug, as if he's not heading right into controversial territory.]

Though, why you would believe anyone that you can speak to as being truly representative of what a god is, is beyond me.

[She frowns, confused.] Orphans? How are we all orphans?

[Aaaand she's just going to ignore that other comment. For now. But her arms are definitely crossed in annoyance.]

Your creator is missing. Anonymous. [answered easily, weightlessly.] It's why the gods all fight so hard for your allegiance. Humankind is prime real estate.

[but that is all beside the point, and he signals the shift backward in topic with a little lift of his chin.]

I ask, because I was guessing something about you.

Actually, our progenitors aren't anonymous, but alright: I'll bite. What're you guessing about me?

[--oh, he is so bookmarking that for a future discussion. it's only because the present topic is much more pressing that he even considers letting it go for now.

and even so, the pause where he forces himself to stay conversationally on track is clear. he needs to take a moment to drop one topic completely for the other one, and then he continues.]

...I'd been guessing that you were the sort of person that is determined to do all they could for an ailing being. Usually, those sorts invest in more ethereal measures as well as physical ones. That's all.

[She is secretly somewhat self-satisfied at his reaction: clearly her comment threw him off. And as for what he's guessed about her...]

You're not entirely wrong. I may not pray, but it's my job to help, to heal. I've sworn an oath to do so, to the fullest extent of my abilities.

[And to do no harm... oh hey there, guilt, welcome back!]

[he holds up a finger, to mark a bit in there that supports his original point... which he is just now getting back around to. because he would sooner have his arms ripped off than speak plainly and directly the first time.]

You say you can still help them. You still want to help them.

Even if I explained to you that there is absolutely no way to help their current condition, and that I know for a fact that they are all going to die, I have a feeling that you would stick to this thought.

I have a feeling that even if I somehow showed you indisputable proof, perhaps even after they have all wasted away, you would still feel that weight in your heart. ...Am I right?

It wouldn't be the first time someone told me they knew for a fact that a patient couldn't be saved and it wouldn't be the first time they were wrong either.

[No one thought Jean-Luc would survive Assimilation, but she did it, she saved him.]

And even if you turn out to be right... I know I can't save everyone. [Tasha.] Doesn't mean I won't try.

[and this is one of the frustrating, destructive, wonderful things about humanity. they simply can't be stopped if they decide not to be.

it may worry the gods and all of the creatures in the world, and may very well tear that world apart at the end of the day, but he loves it.]

Is it a feeling as though there is always more you could possibly do?

Yes, it is. Though, please, spare me any lectures about it... I can assure you I've gone down that road plenty of times.

[There is the slightest hint of a smile.]

Side effect of having an empath and psychologist for a best friend.

[and oh how his eyebrows raise.]

...Out of curiosity, what lecture do you assume I am about to give you?

Probably something about how feeling guilty for something you have no control over isn't very healthy... but even if that's not what you were going to say, I'm really not in the mood for any sort of advice right now.

[Sorry Tek, Deanna's previous counsel to her in these matters is going to mean a hell of a lot more to her than whatever you might say about it. She knows perfectly well that she's following a familiar pattern... but knowing and feeling are often two very different things.]

[and oh, he gives that guess a sharp little smirk.]

I appreciate how magnanimous that makes me sound... but what I was going to say wasn't to help you.

[Crossing her arms.] Alright, then who is it supposed to help? This ship's crew?

[Because if it is, as frustrated as she is, she's open to advice about them at least.]

[he nods.]

Because there is always more you can do, right?

[--which is where this might be finally coming around to full circle.]

[And she's not really sure she trusts where that circle is leading to.]

... what are you getting at here, Tek?

[that's a fair instinct to have around him, honestly.]

I'm getting at the fact that while you work to save what is left of their bodies, there is something you can be doing to help the rest of them.

[he tips his head in the direction of the wall of shadows leading deeper into the Iskaulit.]

--The ones still trapped alive and those who have already died.

[Her distrust of where this is headed only increases. If this is some roundabout way of trying to convince her to pray...]

Which is...?

Their personalities, their memories--it's all part of their souls. And there is still a residue of that over everything here.

[surprise.]

I think you can guess what I'm going to suggest to help an ailing soul.

[spoilers, it's praying.]

[Beverly rubs the bridge of her nose with her forefinger and thumb and closes her eyes.]

I don't have time for this.

Why not?

[calmly sounding like he's ready to continue this conversation for a while.]

Is it because you think it won't work?

[She doesn't answer right away. How can she put this without insulting his beliefs but also so he'll leave her the hell alone?

Sometimes the Prime Directive is a real pain in the ass.]

Look, [She opens her eyes and moves her hand away from her nose to gesture at Tek] for me to pray to or for something I don't believe in is disingenuous and disrespectful to those who do and I'm not going to do it. I'm sorry if this upsets you, but it's just not going to happen.

[he shrugs a shoulder, like he really couldn't care one way or another. but, he's still continuing the conversation.]

Not even if I explained why it would help? The mechanics of it?

[he tilts his head one way, just a bit, and then back--carefully choosing his words before he continues.]

...I've found that those who don't put any stock in prayer or the matters of the soul are those who have a very limited, human view of the subject.

Which isn't your fault, of course. It's hard for mortals to step back far enough to see how the whole thing really works.

[Mortals. Now that earns him an angry glare. In her experience, anyone who refers to others as "mortals" has always been insufferably arrogant and generally insulting and unhelpful. Her tone is withering when she answers him.]

If you're so dead set on praying for these people and saving their souls, then you can take care of it, in all your infinite wisdom. Don't let me and my poor little limited mortal mind stand in your way.

A cry for help

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