tinker tailor winter soldier. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
redactions) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2015-09-21 10:55 pm
redactions) wrote in driftfleet2015-09-21 10:55 pm
002 ✪ audio + action
Who: Jim Barnes
Broadcast: Fleetwide audio.
Action: On the moon.
When: Sept. 20th.
Good morning. This is Captain James Barnes. By now we've assessed the damage to the ships — seems like it only slowed us down some, and whoever the enemy was they don't seem to have followed us. That's not why I'm here.
[ a half-beat of pause, then, ]
We can't guarantee there'll always be shields or weapons aboard our ships at any given time. That doesn't mean we can't work out a system to make sure we're covering for each other in a fight. If we can form groups of two or three ships, at least one with weapons, and coordinate a few flying formations, we stand a much better chance.
As for communications, if they're taken offline like that again we are going to need a solution. We used manual signalling in my War; I'm open to options that don't have us scrambling blind during a crisis like that.
[ a beat ]
We got lucky, this time. We might not be again.
Barnes out.
→ shooting range
[ You know. This is simple. The pistols take getting used to, but it's a matter of practice. Assembly. Disassembly. Ready, aim, fire. One end of the shooting range is devoted entirely to Jim trying out all the variants he can get his hands on. They are laid on the table in front of him neatly. ]
[ All the shots hit the centre ring of the target, if not, damned closed. He's not concentrating too hard or scowling, just seems perfectly placid, and steady. When he feels eyes on him, ]
Sorry, did you want [ gesturing to the row of pistols ] one a'these?
→ some seedy bar
[ This alcohol is completely algae-free and that might be the entire reason he's even bothering with it. This place doesn't look quite as ripe for sudden violence either; but there's still murmuring in the background and a card game that looks like it might be heating up. ]
[ He's sitting alone, in the corner, nursing a glass. Another one sits beside him, completely untouched. It's always been for Steve. ]
Broadcast: Fleetwide audio.
Action: On the moon.
When: Sept. 20th.
Good morning. This is Captain James Barnes. By now we've assessed the damage to the ships — seems like it only slowed us down some, and whoever the enemy was they don't seem to have followed us. That's not why I'm here.
[ a half-beat of pause, then, ]
We can't guarantee there'll always be shields or weapons aboard our ships at any given time. That doesn't mean we can't work out a system to make sure we're covering for each other in a fight. If we can form groups of two or three ships, at least one with weapons, and coordinate a few flying formations, we stand a much better chance.
As for communications, if they're taken offline like that again we are going to need a solution. We used manual signalling in my War; I'm open to options that don't have us scrambling blind during a crisis like that.
[ a beat ]
We got lucky, this time. We might not be again.
Barnes out.
→ shooting range
[ You know. This is simple. The pistols take getting used to, but it's a matter of practice. Assembly. Disassembly. Ready, aim, fire. One end of the shooting range is devoted entirely to Jim trying out all the variants he can get his hands on. They are laid on the table in front of him neatly. ]
[ All the shots hit the centre ring of the target, if not, damned closed. He's not concentrating too hard or scowling, just seems perfectly placid, and steady. When he feels eyes on him, ]
Sorry, did you want [ gesturing to the row of pistols ] one a'these?
→ some seedy bar
[ This alcohol is completely algae-free and that might be the entire reason he's even bothering with it. This place doesn't look quite as ripe for sudden violence either; but there's still murmuring in the background and a card game that looks like it might be heating up. ]
[ He's sitting alone, in the corner, nursing a glass. Another one sits beside him, completely untouched. It's always been for Steve. ]
Video
Sir, before discharge I held the rank of Lieutenant in the Proles Army, mobile infantry, Ghost Wolf division. Small team, 3D tactics were our specialty.
I know there are people who can do stuff like. Um. Magic. That might be the key to keeping communications off. Can also flash running light patterns.
audio
Light's a good idea, in practice it'll be more difficult. [ ...] What kind of magic are we talking about here, Lieutenant? Do you mind if I call you that?
audio
I don't honestly know much about it. There isn't that kind of... stuff where I'm from. I know Vanyel said he had magic. And Vision can fly, so who knows what else he can do.
[More than anything in the world, she wants to be a lieutenant again. She wants to be a soldier in her marrow, because that was when life made sense. But with the constant, if mostly minor pain of her back, it's impossible to forget why she isn't a soldier nay more.
There's a long pause as she struggles with this. Honesty and integrity versus what she wants desperately. It feels like her brain is cramping.]
Do you feel that would that be appropriate, sir?
[Weak, Wrath. Pathetic. But it felt so good to be fighting again.]
sorry for the delay! I misplaced this notif, feel free to drop if it's too late
[ Vision is technology, at least. Jim frowns and makes a note to look for this Vanyel. ]
I'm not your commanding officer... [ but rank and structure can be so comforting when one is gaseous and lost and or being smashed to smithereens. He knows from experience. ] but if it feels appropriate to you, I have no objection.
[ In the end it's her choice who she wants to be. ]
oh no, thank you! I was so excited about this thread. If you don't mind backtagging...
[It's not about the chain of command, though. Just tell him, Wrath. Be honest. Honesty is always best.] I got turfed, back home. Medical discharge. I'm... supposed to be a civvie now.
I'm really bad at being a civvie. I was a soldier for twenty-five years. It's the only thing I remember.
nop! my notifs are going to spam even when marked otherwise; just poke if there's no timely reply
[ His voice softens. ]
That's a long time to serve. Did you feel it was worth it?
I should really just friend you on plurk...
That's the kind of tactics I'm used to. [She grins. War isn't a happy time, but everything made sense.]
[Is 25 years a long time? It doesn't feel long. But she doesn't really have a reference point of 'before.' It's all she knows, and this strange 'after.']
I was good at my job.
[Is that an answer? It feels like the only one she needs, and some people understand. Delta always did, but he's a computer person and not a human person, so maybe it's different. She tries to expand on the idea slightly.]
Soldiers serve. I was good at that.
[Should there be more? Does she just think that because she's supposed to? Has she answered the question? Uh.]
And I got to cut tanks in half with a plasma sword. Blew some fuckers sky high.
[Nailed it.]
yes a+ plan
Soldiers obey. Good soldiers know when not to.
no subject
And good COs don't give unlawful orders.
[The General had been a good CO. And... This is where her brain stutters. Hitches. Memory skips like a scratched data plat.]
There's obedience. And there's compliance. Orders are orders unless they're orders, right?
[Shit, is she making any sense? She's losing the thread, and she just wanted to feel goddamn competent for a minute. Everything's shattered, and Beverly does seem certain it's not her fault, but she can't help but feel it is. Everything used to make sense.
She tries starting over.]
I was a good CO for my platoon. I...
[What was she going to say? It's just gone, half a thought sparking into nothingness, and its frustrating.] I protected my people.
no subject
I'm sure you did.
[ He pauses, then, ]
Sorry, would you mind encrypting this, if you can? I can't, from my end, or I would.
no subject
... Speaking of. Encryption? That sounds like a tech thing. This is embarrassing.]
I don't really know how to do stuff like that. I wasn't black ops or anything.
[Her entire relevant network experience involves searching for vids of kittens, and most of those got sent to her by Delta. Daily reminder, Wrath, that the only good skill you had is something you can no longer do.]
Could meet up on the Iskaulit if there needs to be off channel discussion.
[... Which seems weird considering they are technically being watched at all times. But she's used to being in a surveillance state, and the best little rebellions are accomplished in person, even if you pay for them later.]
> private
No, it's all right, I don't really want to say it out in the open. I've set it on default. Listen — ah, do you know of anything called battle fatigue? Post-traumatic stress?
> private
Yes, sir. Post traumatic stress disorder. Occupational hazard that should not be stigmatized. Something we had to deal with a lot after the Line ended. [There wasn't time before then.]
no subject
Can't say I'm any good at counsellin', but you ever need to talk to someone who... understands, my line is always open.
no subject
[Though. Oh. Well, she's got some problems, she knows that. The same kind of problems as Maine, really, even if she compensates differently. But that's not what happened now, when she had trouble talking. And she should probably own up to it.
Even if it's embarrassing. It's better to just be up front always.]
I... I have holes in my brain. Things I can't remember. A lot of things. When I'm thinking about stuff, sometimes the next step is just... not there. [Like a wire sparking into the void.]
When I said being a soldier is all I remember, I meant it literally. If there was ever anything else, it's gone. [She doesn't really miss it, even if she probably should. How can you miss what you can't remember ever having?]
no subject
I'm sorry to hear that.
You know, someone told me it's never too late to try and find yourself, even if you're not sure who that might be.
no subject
They tried to tell me my name couldn't be Wrath any more when I got turfed. I told 'em to fuck off. [Because it's her name.]
no subject
[ He's smiling too, as he answers. ]
no subject
Sir.
[Whoops.]
But I'm tough as hell, so you don't have to worry.