video + text + action

[mucked]

Who: Peggy Carter & YOU
Broadcast: Y, fleetwide.
Action: Aboard the Starstruck, if you like.
When: Today.

[ a video feed flickers to life, and fights for a moment to adequately focus on its subject. peggy carter sits in the kitchen aboard the starstruck, cup of tea and her elbow and half a biscuit in her hand. dabbing at crumbs, she sets her food aside and offers the network a bright smile. ]

That message -- the ominous one, in the bizarre language? It put me in mind of the sort of cryptograms and puzzles you might see in the Sunday paper. [ her expression is cheery enough, although she's not being wholly honest about her interest in such games. she won't be the one to say the words bletchley and park.] I loved them. Them, and crosswords. I thought maybe some of you might like them, too. [ ... ] We could do a few together. I'm not saying we all join a club, exactly, but back home they were always better solved in good company.

Let's start you off with one that's easy enough. But there's no shame in needing a hint, if needed. For what it's worth, the text I'm attaching is, in its deciphered form, English -- not yet certain how the augments' translation will handle it. We'll see.

BLSTKBC YLBSFKGISRX XL QIYT SL SFVBWIKAKJR STR QKBZ VX V XSRVZU EIFELXR — V ELKBS LB OTKYT STR XLIA QVU NKM KSX KBSRAARYSIVA RUR.

[ -- and then an afterthought: ]

...By chance, has anyone been brewing their own beer?

Comments

[survivalistcookbook]

Sort of. I was here for a handful of months, disappeared for another handful, then showed up again about four months ago. [Weird. He knows. Like everything else around here.] You?

[mucked]

Just over a year, actually. [ a half-smile. ] We must have missed one another. How delightful it is to still be surprised by who else is in the fleet, even now.

[survivalistcookbook]

It is. I'm trying to peek my head out of the kitchen more these days. [Waiting it out had failed spectacularly as a strategy, so, however grudgingly, he's making the best of it that he can.] What's your position on the Starstruck, if you don't mind me asking?

[mucked]

Captain. [ she answers without missing a beat. once upon a time, the rank was strange to speak, but now it's second-nature. ] While still moonlighting as a comms officer, when needed.

So, all in all, far less useful than yours.

[ cooks own, as far as she's concerned. ]

[survivalistcookbook]

Until you actually need to get something done.

[He tips his mug in her direction, a gentle rebuttal of that much praise.]

At that point, even I would rather have a captain who knows what she's doing than perfectly-browned dinner rolls.

[mucked]

[ dinner rolls! perfectly browned or otherwise, there's a quiet delight that steals across her features. wouldn't dinner rolls be nice?

but as for the thrust of his argument: ] I'm afraid I'm mostly making it up as I go along. I don't come from a time with anywhere near the same level of technological advancement. But we make do, here, aboard the Starstruck.

[survivalistcookbook]

Understandable. But I'm pretty sure leadership skills weren't invented with space travel. [Could be wrong on that one. But he's pretty sure.] When did they nab you from?

[mucked]

1947. [ summer thereof, though she keeps that to herself. who would care, unless they too were from that year? ] By most accounts, I lag some seventy years behind most people who come here -- at least, I do if they come from Earth. Usually.

[survivalistcookbook]

Yeah. Guilty as charged. But, we had a pandemic that almost collapsed human civilisation in the early 2010s, so we're still relying on radio and other technologies around that level.

[He delivers the revelation in a tone of blithe faux-chipperness, because really, it's just a fact of life at this point. Plus, hey. England in 1947? That's at least a little common ground in the 'oh god everything is still busted up' department.]

[mucked]

Radio! Now, I can manage with radio. Handily. [ a crooked smile. if she's horrified by the idea of civilization collapsing -- and at a point prior, in his world, to any other she's heard of, then peggy hides it well. she follows his lead in blitheness. easier, that way. ] I swear, the wireless will manage to outlive us all.

[survivalistcookbook]

I know! [A few notes of laughter edge in with the words, a strange sort of gratitude meeting her recognition.] I swear, if you had told me in 2010 that in a few years, I'd be in northern England, living in a glorified shed and learning morse-

[mucked]

[ -- northern england! a crinkle of her nose. affectionate, despite how her accent tracks her to somewhere nearer the south. london suburb, likely.

or maybe she's excited over morse code. hard to say. ]

You know, you don't much sound British. An ex-pat of somewhere else, I presume?

[survivalistcookbook]

Canada. I was on a travel assignment in London at the start of the outbreak, but once everything started to break down it wasn't safe in the city anymore, and I made a break for the countryside.

[mucked]

[ the dominion! huh. ]

Never been to Canada. [ said with the kind of casual curiousity of someone who might have been many other places. ] Never had the chance. Not yet, at least. You must miss it -- [ considering she doesn't expect there are many flights or ships heading back in that direction. ]

[survivalistcookbook]

[He has a drink of his tea, then looks down into it thoughtfully, turning the cup and watching the liquid spin in lazy counterpoint.]

You know-? I miss my family. And I guess I miss Vancouver in a way. But at the same time-? I've seen what happened to London. [He meets her eyes and manages a suggestion of a smile, but it's more bravery than happiness, stubborn refusal to give in to the horror of the thing.] In my memories, I'll always have my home the way it was. I think it's better that way.

[mucked]

[ in the end, she can empathize with such distance. since michael's death, she's felt very little desire to return to hampstead. she'd rather remember home the way it once was; not as it grew to become. she's a new creature -- different from that girl who lived there. and a new creature deserves a new world.

peggy nods. ] I confess I've been feeling a little nostalgic for London. Lately. Hence the desire for marmite. I haven't actually lived there since during the war. I've been...elsewhere. [ a shrug. ] America, mostly.

[survivalistcookbook]

Oh, hey. Where in America?

[Now that, he's at least modestly travelled. Though he has to admit, he can't think of a place in the country that comes close to being the same creature as London, for good or for ill.]

[mucked]

New York, primarily. [ a beat. ] But I was in California when I was brought here. Los Angeles.

[survivalistcookbook]

[He gives a low whistle at that, lifting his eyebrows.]

Both coasts. I'm going to guess that either you're an ambitious traveller or you have a pretty impressive job.

[mucked]

Impressive? [ a snort. ] Not very. It involves a lot of grunt work, that's all. [ and she'd signed the official secrets act; it's not like she can go around gossiping about her work. not directly. instead, she happily lets other people draw their own careful conclusions. ]

But I was visiting a friend. Nothing too wild, I assure you.

[ just wild enough to mean that when she eventually does return home, it'll be to the days' recovery after falling on a bit of rebar. ]

[survivalistcookbook]

Fair enough. [If she's not offering details, he's not going to pry. Being captain of a spaceship is enough of a credential on its own, in his opinion. Instead, he turns his attention to the rest of his tea before it goes cold, giving a quiet hum of approval.] I guess you have more than your fair share of wild now. Crew give you much trouble?

[mucked]

Not more than I can handle. [ her smile stays -- ghostish, and subdued. ] My First Mate is a tremendous young woman -- Ahsoka's her name. We've got an Aussie pilot who's from another version of a world after the collapse of civilization, and he can be prickly. But he's a decent man. Then, there's the Maximoff twins. Wanda and Pietro. And a girl with these funny little anti-gravitational boots. [ ... ] And lastly, my security officer happens to be someone I knew back home. An American.

[ understatement. ]

[survivalistcookbook]

Sounds like quite the crew. [He isn't sure he recognises most of them. Maybe eventually, if the Starstruck joins his rota of ships that he delivers quality foodstuffs to. For now, there's not much more than a mouthful of tea left, and he finishes it in a patient, savoring drink before it goes cold.] I'll bring enough bread for seven next time I come by.

[mucked]

And if there's anything we can do for you in return? Please, don't hesitate to call. Max -- the pilot I mentioned -- might be the one isolationist aboard the ship. The rest of us are always keen to lend a hand, if needed.

[ she rises from the table and holds our her hands. a second shake -- this time in solidarity and alliance. ]

[survivalistcookbook]

Trust me, I appreciate it.

[He shoulders his bag up and returns the handshake, smile small but earnest.]

It was a pleasure to meet you. Enjoy the refreshments.