driftfleet | 01. | You're as cold

Entry tags:

01. | You're as cold—

Who: Bucky Barnes (

sinistral) and YOU!
Broadcast: No
Action: Yes; SS Starduck, SS Iskaulit, planetside
When: from Bucky's arrival through what's left of December

SS STARDUCK
→ Acclimating;

If waking up on the Marsiva had been unexpected, doubly so is the teleportation to a new ship entirely. On the plus side, there are at least more people here than had been aboard the host ship. On the negative, Bucky still isn't entirely comfortable around people, and he's already on edge from the circumstances as it is. He's not outwardly unfriendly, but he is wary of everyone and everything.

But he's here in the capacity of a security officer and that means— Well, he's not entirely sure what it means. Oh, he knows what his duties are, just like he knows where he is and why, but the strangeness of it still nags at his brain. He figures at the very least that he should spend some time in exploration, in assessment of the ship that's now his home. As such he's attempting to explore every inch of it and to learn the names, responsibilities, and routines of those with whom he's now living.

SS ISKAULIT
→ Exploration;

It's strange, he thinks, the way this ship is laid out. It's much different from his assigned vehicle, and nowhere near as sterile as the Marsiva. For all that he's been told what it is, seeing it is another thing entirely. So the exploration he does is part curiosity and part reconnaissance, learning the layout of the hallways and establishments as much as he's still trying to wrap his head around the existence of the space fleet in the first place. Movement helps at least, the steady cadence of footfalls on the floor interrupted here and there when he pauses to examine the outside of an establishment that catches his eye.

Though he's not one to make the first move to seek out conversation or company, he doesn't steer away or try to avoid it if he's approached.

→ Gym;

It'd taken him a few days to get used to the whole spaceship thing, including the idea of intership travel via shuttle, but Bucky's just firmly putting it in terms with which he's more familiar: the ships are buildings, the shuttles cars. And there's a certain freedom of movement in the allowance of taking a shuttle to visit another ship. For him it's exclusively to the Iskaulit, and minus the exploration of his first visit, is exclusively for the purpose of utilizing the gym facilities. Working out is the closest thing he has to any sort of regular routine, at least right now, and it's something to which he's going to remain faithful.

It's gratifying to find that the facility has been constructed in such a way that some of the equipment caters toward the physically enhanced; it means he doesn't have to pull his punches and that he can work out to his full abilities. And that settles the mind a little as well, just thanks to the pushing of the body to its limits. He'll still step aside quietly though, in order to offer the equipment to anyone who looks like they might be waiting for it.

PLANETSIDE
→ Working;

A search for laborers attracts Bucky for two reasons: it's physical activity, something to engage both the mind and the muscles, and there's the hope that working alongside people will give him a chance to learn a little more about where they are and why. While there's been plenty of the first, it's the second that's got him a little frustrated. Everything he finds out slots in so seamlessly with what he just knows, but he has no idea how he knows it. But he's so certain about it, while at the same time so uncertain of who he is. He feels like he can't fully trust his own brain and that's not a comfortable thought at all.

But physical labor? That's easy enough, even though the work itself is hard. It keeps him moving and earns him money, and he can't complain about either of those things — especially when it offers a chance to be out of doors. The ships are nice but they're enclosed spaces, and he doesn't have the best experiences with closed spaces. He much prefers being outside like this, even with the cold, and when he sees the signal from the group leader to start packing it up, he'll pass that signal onto the person closest to him. "Looks like it's time to go."

→ Ice Caves;

The problem with being strung so tight for so long is that when there's a moment to relax, Bucky finds it hard to do so. Idleness isn't welcome, and he's not sure if it's the unease of being suddenly drafted into the Fleet or if it's the fog that he can still feel clinging stubbornly to his brain. But whatever the case, he'd rather spend his free time doing something. Fortunately, this place seems to offer plenty to satisfy that urge.

The castle tour is a little disappointing only because, while history and architecture are momentarily interesting, it still doesn't mean anything to him. Hiking is better, dressing against the cold to explore the surrounding landscape and the caves. Sure, the ice makes the footing a little treacherous, but it's nothing he can't handle. And apparently, he's not the only one. "Excuse me, just passing through—"

WILDCARD
→ Elsewhere;

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sometimesamuse. Open to wherever, whatever, and though I write starters in prose I'm more than happy to switch to brackets if it's your preference.

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Natasha pivots back into information. It's a currency she's comfortable with, one she knows how to use, and it's reassuringly impersonal. It's also a way she can help him that he might be able to accept.

"Not often. Usually when the ship crews get too small. The fleet used to be bigger, but since I got here it's been slowly shrinking." Her punch lands hard. "I think since before I got here. One more puzzle to try to work out. Or maybe it doesn't mean anything. We still have new arrivals coming."

The brokering of information suits them both. Bucky is much more comfortable with a more impersonal conversation, and while he doesn't wish to dwell on how he knows Natasha, he does acknowledge that she's very good at what she does.

"No. It's hard to believe all of this would really be that arbitrary." He shifts back, enough to give the bag the room it would need to swing if she decides to up the intensity even more. It doesn't bother him; he knows that she knows that a swinging bag certainly isn't enough to hurt him, but it's a courtesy to not interfere in someone's workout.

"We're essentially kidnapped. That implies value, even if the value is something so small as needing crew to man their ships." If that's even the reason at all and not just a convenient side effect of having people available and giving them a purpose to distract. "If the Fleet is shrinking, it could be that what our keepers need is found in fewer but more capable bodies."

"It's possible." She's not sure if it's that simple, but she can't rule it out. Most of her skepticism comes from instinct. There are parts of that she can work with, at least. "The ships fly themselves, but they evolve depending on the crew. Doubt that's built into the system. That said..."

Her mind goes back to a party and a heist. The message that the Atroma had shared with them after they removed all of that data the fleet's crews had managed to steal from their hosts and, more importantly, the AI. She'll keep the details of that for later. Barnes has enough on his plate without dumping the whole history on him in one conversation.

Besides, James had been her date that night. She'd rather put off explaining that before it's necessary. Given a little time, she could tease the narratives apart, but on the fly it's safer to stay vague. "They have definitely used us to their ends before. Assuming at least that the deception doesn't go deeper than we know and the whole thing isn't staged."

"But it's possible." A piece of the entire picture maybe, but they're trying to fit together a puzzle with no idea of the final image. Still it speaks to something pretty advanced that the ships don't technically need their crews to operate. It's not a welcome thought, especially as he sees a danger in it: with ships that can fly on their own if necessary, would that not breed complacency?

He rolls his shoulders, runs a hand through his hair. They're small movements, nonthreatening and an attempt to settle into his own skin. There's so much needing consideration, so much needing to be pulled apart and put back together in various configurations to see if one makes any more sense than the others. His smile though when she says that is wry. "Would it surprise you if it was?"

Playing a part, being used to advance the agendas of others. It wouldn't be the first time.

Instead of answering simply, Natasha starts to brief him on something, a visit they had previously. "There was one system we stopped in. Half way through our visit, an asteroid was spotted hurtling toward the planet we were on. Just coincidentally, we were taking cruises and going shopping and suddenly the end of the world is days away. Too late to do anything but evacuate."

A glance his direction, though she's sure he's listening and she knows she won't see him show a reaction.

"We joined in, of course. Helped get people on escape ships, up to a space station. Allegedly, we saved their culture even if it was displaced. We watched as the asteroid hit and the planet went molten."

She manages to stay neutral as she says it. Not easy, even after everything else she's seen. Watching a planet destroyed was never got to be something comfortable. This is business, though, so she treats it like business.

"Then afterward, we here that the planet is stabilizing rapidly. It'll be habitable again quicker than it should. Not immediately, but still... maybe a generation, and everyone can go back. Resettle. What do you think the chances of that happening during the month we happened to be there are?"

So in other words, she'd be more surprised if more weren't staged than they know.

"Conveniently in the right place at the right time." He shakes his head. It's too convenient of course, and they both know it. But he doesn't need Natasha to say that of course there's no evidence thereof; there wouldn't be. "I bet that must have made a killing in ratings."

Hidden agenda and the disguise of the show they're supposedly a part of? A chance to play hero, at least in small part? Bucky is pretty sure that last piece would have attracted a good amount of people, at least from what little he's been able to observe of the Fleet thus far. The immediacy of an emergency is certainly a way to keep people distracted; it's a tactic he has employed from time to time.

Still, the idea of an entire planet nearly destroyed, but already well on its way to becoming hospitable again? It makes something cold and uncomfortable prickle at the back of his neck to consider the kind of power that would have to be involved in something so unnatural sounding. He can't ignore the thought that anything that could do something like that is certainly strong enough to keep a group of people here — and to do whatever it wanted with them.

If that even was the doing of their keepers and not something above even them.

"Imagine it must have." The ratings. That was always the reason, and it often made sense in a purely mercenary accounting. So much of what happened must have the audience holding their breath. Heroism. Comedy. Romance. Drift Fleet had all of it. "It's not exactly unheard of for reality TV to manufacture a little drama."

She shakes her head, her next punch carrying more frustration than the last.

"This must be a lot to have fall on you all at once. Especially for a guy who's been laying low."

"Or a lot of it. Or to hide behind it — and its monetary impact — as a convenient excuse." And again it all comes down to simple fact: they have no way of knowing if that is the case here or not. It likely is, he thinks, but it's not the entire case. Too many pieces, no clear image of the puzzle.

"It's an understatement," he allows, because she knows it is. They still don't know each other but they certainly know enough about each other to recognize these small things — and to recognize that they're hiding the larger picture from each other. It's not as uncomfortable as he would have thought, not nearly as confrontational. That says something. It also says something that she's comfortable enough to continue in her workout in his presence considering that the last time he saw her, they were most decidedly fighting each other.

But there's a question in there as well. A hint, perhaps. "As low as being kidnapped for an intergalactic reality show allows, I suppose."

The way he says that—that it's an understatement—tugs at something she'd prefer not recognize. She puts the feeling away for later. Or never, if she can get away with it.

There's more pressing concerns. She's quiet a moment as she works out.

"That's not very low. Not for long." Because he's probably already guessed that much, and he ought to know if he hasn't. "The Fleet has ways of dragging people into the action sometimes. Malfunctions. Messages getting misdirected. Augment glitches."

He's patient. They both are, partly because patience is a necessity in their line of work and partly because they're both dangerous. Of course they could both be dangerous in the outward threat sort of way, but this isn't quite that. This is something else, and Bucky's pretty sure that the gut feeling telling him that it's more to do simply with who they are is the correct impression.

That doesn't make it uncomfortable though — at least not any more uncomfortable than it was bound to be anyway.

He'd had a feeling, but hearing her confirm it makes it that much more real. And that much more uncomfortable. Sure, Natasha can lie as easily as she breathes, but he doesn't think she is. Not to him, and not about this. "Great. Things in our heads that mess with our heads. Some entertainment."

It touches on things that are beyond uncomfortable of course, and he has a feeling she knows it. Then again, it's because she knows it that she'd mentioned it in the first place, he's pretty sure.

"Sometimes entertainment." At least, that's the line. Shake things up. Other times, it's malfunctions. And that could be it sometimes, when people end up with strange powers or forced to tell the truth, or have cat ears or some nonsense like that. Other times... "Sometimes, insurance."

Atroma has them all hostage that way. A only slightly figurative gun to every single one of their heads.

She glances at Barnes, considering. Natasha's not sure if she expected him to leave or not. Depends where he is. Which version of himself. He's smart, though, and she's not surprised he'll listen to her. And she doesn't doubt he knows what to do with it either. Even if he's not the same one, he's still Barnes.

"So far, no one's been able to do anything about that. Trying tends to make things worse."

"It would be something like that." Bucky knows all about that kind of insurance, and probably a lot more intimately than most. "It's a good strategy."

It's a very, very effective strategy. Of course it worries Bucky too, because the potential to trigger him is most certainly present and if these Atroma are that powerful, they might not even need the words. And though he doesn't say anything about it, he has a feeling it's probably crossed Natasha's mind as well. Threat analysis is as natural as breathing; it has to be, in their line of work.

"Of course. You don't put a trigger in someone's head and let them get their hand on the gun."

Of course it's crossed her mind. Crossed her mind because it's happened before, shortly before she arrived. Barnes had still been dealing with the fallout of that one at the time, and the fallout from the fact he's hurt Agent Carter.

Not that she wouldn't have figured it out on her own, but in that case she didn't have to.

"No, you do not. Generally if we play nice they don't do anything that extreme, but get out of line..."

"And they can flip the switch." Which has some very, very unpleasant connotations for Bucky. And potentially for anyone around Bucky too, given his capabilities; there is the sudden — and chilling — thought that triggering the Winter Soldier could be a punishment pushed upon others as well.

He crosses his arms over his chest, looking away from Natasha and her workout. It's a lot to consider, everything she's told him alongside knowing that there are people here who potentially know what he is. And knowing that privacy is very much unlikely makes it even more uncomfortable.

Natasha doesn't glance at him. She doesn't have to; she knows what his expression will be. Not looking is all the privacy any of them can offer. It's also a show of trust. Showing him that they're not enemies here. They could be allies, if he wants it. Or he can have his space if that's what he needs right now.

"It's happened before."

"Then I'm even more of a danger."

He says it plainly, since she gives him the privacy — such as there is in this place — to do so. He has a feeling that she'd suspect it anyway, even without him confirming. But that's a part of the dance too, the trading of tidbits of information while keeping close the whole story.

She does know. That doesn't mean she doesn't appreciate his answer. The decision the play along, continuing this conversation with her, says as much as his actual words.

"Not just you." He might be more dangerous than some of them, but he's not the only one who can and has been taken to a place where they were a threat to those around them. It had happened to Natasha herself. She wondered what might happen if it happened to Wanda or Loki. "It's a risk we live with here."

"Acknowledged." That others are dangerous, that the switch can be flipped at any time, that people are aware of it as at least a dim possibility.

That she seems to at least have some understanding of what it means in his case.

He's not comfortable here. He hadn't been even at the start of their conversation, and the fault lies with neither of them. Or perhaps it's with both of them, just by nature of what they are. "I appreciate the information."

Natasha takes that as a signal the conversation is coming to an end. That's fine. It's better than she feared it might be, all things considered. It could have gone much worse.

The conversation has been productive. She's been able to confirm some of her suspicions where he's coming from, and hopefully help him get his feet under him. She can hope at least.

"You're welcome," she says. "The thing around here, you only get so far on your own. We have to share information if we're gonna get anywhere."

Which is to say if he has questions in the future, she's available for them.

Edited 2019-01-29 04:45 (UTC)

The conversation is winding down, mostly because he needs to think but also because she'd come to the space to work out and he's held her up quite enough already. It might be an excuse but if so, it's one he's comfortable making.

"I'll keep that in mind." He's not just saying it; he will. He's just not entirely sure what sort of an association he wants to have with anyone, never mind someone to whom he has vague — and vaguely uncomfortable — ties. "...Thanks."

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01. | You're as cold—

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