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Who: Caterina Sforza
Broadcast: fleetwide and completely unintentional
Action: Marsiva
When: the 18th

[Hello, Drift Fleet! Don’t you love these unintentional recordings of new arrivals? No? Well, at least this one is nice to look at. Straight out of an Italian Renaissance painting, in fact.

Caterina awakens on the bunk wearing the same black and yellow gown that Cesare had had her dressed in. Her “tiger stripes,” he had said, damn him.

But she realized, as she looked about, that that was almost all that was the same. She was no longer chained or shackled. She was not caged. And this was neither the Vatican nor the Castel Sant’Angelo. Whatever else may be true of this place, that held promise. It was enough to improve her humor considerably.

As she starts to rise, she finally notices the communicator beside her. The curiosity plain on her face, she picks it up and examines it, turning it over in her hands.]

And what is this, I wonder?

[Action]

[Later, Caterina finds her way to the cafeteria. She's not expecting anything up to her normal standards, but after a siege and eating broth of boiled rat for a few weeks, she'll take what she can get. What she gets, however, is a great deal of confusion. Instead of anything remotely resembling a normal kitchen, she is greeted by a series of machines, all flashing lights and strange noises.

For a moment, she just stares. This is beyond ridiculous. It really is. But that doesn't mean that she doesn't have to deal with it, so, reluctantly, she steps forward to examine one of the food processors.]

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[Luke is trying to create the vaunted 'bananapop'. These machines aren't what he's used to either, but they're similar to things he's used before, enough to manage the interface with quiet ease. He looks over at his new companion with an openly friendly expression.]

I think the replication coils in the gel dispenser are uncalibrated, if you want to use it.

[There's something profoundly irritating about being extremely well-educated and yet so incredibly ignorant about what's going on around you. But at least this young man seemed to be have some idea of what he was doing.]

I am afraid I do not understand. This is all foreign to me.

Oh, are you... [He cocks his head to the side, like a confused dog, and then his face lights with realization.] You're pre-spaceflight, aren't you! I've been running into so many of those lately.

I suppose I am. I had no notion man could fly at all until today. [She gives a wry little smile.] Some part of me still expects to plummet from the sky, like Icarus into the sea.

Pre-flight? Well, you're in for a surprise! [Rather than cocky or dismissive, he sounds happy for her. Flying is simply the best there is.] I can answer any questions, if you like. I'm Luke Skywalker.

[He reaches out to shake her hand, and uses his right on instinct. He remembers a second too late that his prosthetic is damaged, with the cracked burn on the back of an otherwise normal hand, opening to reveal sparking wires. He retracts his hand.] Uh- sorry. [He smiles, attempting for reassuring. Pre-flight means pre-robotics, right?]

[She had started to offer her hand in return, but she pulls it back immediately upon seeing the wires. Her expression isn't one of fear, however, so much as one of fascination.]

Does it hurt?

[Oh, good; he was worried she'd scream.]

Oh, no; I turned off the pain sensors when it got damaged. [He says it with a little shrug.] I can still sense temperature and texture with it, though.

[She should be more frightened, perhaps. She was in utterly uncharted territories here. But nothing about Luke made him seem a threat- quite the contrary. He had sort of a boyish innocence about him that lessened her tension.]

It is only your hand, then, that is artificial? [Nosy, yes, perhaps. But while she may not be frightened, she is a bit startled. He'll have to forgive the temporary lapse in manners.]

[That is, in a way, intentional. Luke doesn't put on a false face to interact with others, but he genuinely doesn't want anyone to be afraid of him. Well, unless you're Jabba, but that guy was a dick.]

Only my hand. I lost the original in an accident. This one... needs some repairs.

Extraordinary. [Useful. Again, her mind is buzzing with implications and possibilities.] I do hope the repairs don't cause you difficulties.

[Luke has always been appreciative of curiosity. This, more than anything, makes up his mind for him. He likes her, he decides.] Oh, no. The hardest part will be finding more synthskin to cover the hole, but I can always wear a glove until then. [He taps the hole in the back of his hand, charred around the edges as though burnt some time ago.]

But enough about me! I'm sorry, I never got your name.

That is as much my fault as yours; I have assailed you with questions without offering even so much as my name. How shameful of me. [But her tone indicates banter more than serious concern.]

I am Caterina Sfroza.

[Well, don't you look fancy?]

That's a communicator. So, my voice is probably a surprise.

But not an unpleasant one, all things considered. [Her tone is still thoughtful, still tentative. She hasn't decided yet what to make of this situation. If she didn't know better, she'd think she'd have lost grip on her sanity.]

You are nearby, then? Or does these messages traverse great distances?

That's good. [She doesn't sound afraid so that makes things easier.]

I'm a medium distance. Not on that ship, but the nearby space station. I was abducted the same way you were but about two weeks ago.

Space Station. [There's more than a little disbelief in those words.] I know, at least, that this is no fever dream. I could not conceive of this, even in my sleep.

Always a bright side then. [She smiles a bit.] You know you're on a space ship now?

Strangely enough, I do. [That would be the augment kicking in. Unconsciously, she reaches a hand up behind her left ear, but as it nears the location of the augment, she realizes what she's doing and lowers her hand back into her lap.]

May I have your name?

[She watches that hand gesture with interest.] Kitty Pryde. You?

Caterina Sforza. [She's watching the screen as she says it, just to check the reaction- or lack thereof. Still not sure which she's hoping for, honestly.] A pleasure to meet you.

[There's no recognition. Maybe if she'd been more about history than science.] You too.

You probably have some questions, so go ahead. [She was new not long ago and she knows enough to be helpful and still remembers going through it recently enough to still care.]

[That tells her, at least, that she is well and truly far from Rome.]

I have more questions than I know how to ask. [She pauses, taking a moment to decide where to begin.] Do our captors ever deign to show themselves?

[Good assessment.]

No deigning that I've noticed. I've only been here a couple of weeks but everyone says the Atroma stay out of sight. There were two people who were speaking for them, but they've been quiet lately apparently, and I've never seen or heard them myself.

['No deigning.' The corners of her lips curve upwards in amusement.]

For captives, we seem to be given a great many freedoms. That is not a complaint, mind you.

I'll give you that. There are worse places to be held against your will. There are even worse places to go freely. [Like home.]

You sound as though you speak from experience.

I guess I do. I should never plan vacations. I'm apparently terrible at picking places to be.

[She sure looks highborn when Robb sees her talking into the communicator.]

It is called a communicator, my lady. [He says it with a calm voice. It is not new to him anymore and he slowly grows to accept its existence.] It is used...well...for communication with others.

Clever. [Useful. It could have turned the game a number of times in her life. But that's beside the point.] And to whom do I speak now?

[Robb hums and nods.] Aye, it is. It also keeps track on the coin you own. And you can send letters without needing a raven.

My name is Robb Stark, my lady. And what is yours, if I may ask?

[Ravens, not pigeons. How odd. She'll have to ask about that later.]

Caterina Sfroza. [She says the name with weight, like she's accustomed to having it recognized, having mean something. Oh, she knows it won't here, but old habits are hard to break.] A pleasure.

Well met, lady Sforza. [The smile on Robb’s face is utterly polite.] Where do you come from? [Likely not Westeros, she does not seem Westerosi at all... But at least somewhere close to what he is used to.]

Rome, most recently, but my home is in Forli. I don't imagine you recognize either.

No, I do not know of those places, I am afraid. [He shakes his head.] There are many here who come from different realms and places.

I take it they have told you about these...ships, my lady?

They have told me some, yes. I think it will be quite some time before I know all I wish to.

It is a complicated matter. Quite the opposite of what I know of... [And, judging her, it could very well be that she also only knew of castles, horses and a variety of knights and lords.]

Indeed. I could say the same. I haven't decided yet if that is more intriguing or troubling.

It depends on what you have left behind, my lady. At least, for me it does.

[Even though everything is strange and wondrous, he feels restless most of the time, thinking about the war he is fighting.]

I am sure you will find a way.

[What she has left behind... What family that remains to her is loyal to her enemies. Her lands have likely been divided and redistributed by now. She left a cage- not as literal, perhaps, as the one in which she entered Rome, but a cage, nonetheless. She could live with leaving that.]

I always do.

It was good to speak to you, my lady. If you have questions, you can put them inside the black box and they will appear to me as a written message.

[As long as those questions weren’t about the workings of these space ships because that is beyond him.]

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