002 ✪ audio + action

[redactions]

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. ]

Comments

[pain_train]

[This is the platonic ideal of a Bitch Please look.]

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.

[redactions]

[ There's pain in her voice — the grief of loss. ]

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.

[pain_train]

[He believes her. She did good enough, and that's a relief. She hates being shitty at words, and she hates disappointing people, and the two often coincide.

... 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

[redactions]

[ he fiddles with the rudimentary private settings. ]

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

[pain_train]

[Oh! A question she can answer. Excellent. She actually relaxes, perhaps a bit weirdly considering what a fraught topic it is. Then again, she's also not thinking about the logical conclusion of how one deals with PTSD either.]

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.]

[redactions]

[ Deals or... doesn't deal, in a lot of cases. They come back having killed men and worse and life can't be what it was; all they have in the house with them are too many shadows and a ghost. ]

Can't say I'm any good at counsellin', but you ever need to talk to someone who... understands, my line is always open.

[pain_train]

You can't trust counselors. They report. [Which sucks, since counseling and chems is the best way to deal with it.] But you can trust other soldiers. Thank you, sir.

[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?]

[redactions]

[ He's thinking of STRIKE, when he thinks sometimes you can't even trust other soldiers. ]

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.

[pain_train]

I think that's something people just say to try to make you feel better. [But she's smiling when she says it.]

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.]

[redactions]

Wasn't pretending not to try'n make you feel better.

[ He's smiling too, as he answers. ]

[pain_train]

Aw, you're really sweet.

Sir.

[Whoops.]

But I'm tough as hell, so you don't have to worry.