driftfleet | the white noise is deafening silence

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the white noise is deafening silence

[In the very early hours of January 20th, as the Marsiva and her captives drift nonchalantly through the depths of the universe, there is a call. Every single personal communicator and console springs to life, spitting out a stream of indecipherable static and showing only gray snow on screen. It continues like this for a few seconds longer, going black and then going staticky, and then the signal switches to the encrypted channel generally used for speaking to the Interceptors when something big goes down.

This is a little more successful. The voice may be familiar to some, at least through the static.]

Zhade here! I trust I ███ your attention? I'm having some ██▓▓ble ██tting through. Some of the ░▓██▓█ are missing. I can't ░▓▓▓ read on their loc█████ns. [A particularly long burst of static.] ███stening. I'll s█▓▓█ more inf██▓▓▓▓▓█ I get it.

Stay sharp! [There's the sound of someone actually doing the fingerguns wink noise, and then static.

Any messages sent back won't get through, and Zhade isn't there to answer.]

[ A blip of lost time passes right after those words, before every passenger mysteriously wakes alone in their own unfamiliar room. The style of decor resembles that of the Marsiva's Hospitality Deck, if any passengers should remember what that's like. It sounds and smells the same as the host ship as well, all clean and chrome.

Welcome back to the Marsiva, dear passengers. It's time for round three of calibrations. ]

[ This mingle will cover all non-calibration room interactions. Please continue to come back to it for the duration of the plot! You are, of course, free to post any other mingles/posts/etc. that you'd like. ]

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"I have a feeling that trouble tends to find you a lot?" Alfred questioned as he went to work preparing something different. He seemed to be the type-- especially after having already hinted about using his full name.

"I knew a Jim back home and trouble often found him. Were you one to follow the rules or did you break them when you felt they didn't fit you?"

"Relatively easily, yes, but that's a job risk when you're exploring unknown space," he shrugged, because was there any use in denying it? His crew probably saw more than two times the action of any other vessel, and all of it from just running into new sectors of space head-long. But that was the job.

He raised a brow and he shrugged. "As a kid, yeah, I would say that's what I did. I never did anything to terrible, but I did get quite the reputation with the local police force." He grinned sheepishly. "I've calmed down quite a bit since then."

"I suppose I can't argue with you there." Alfred replied. He only raised an eyebrow at the comment about the reputation he earned with the police force.

He knew what it was like to be young and do what you please and then eventually settle down into a life you're comfortable with. Then you get to a point where you don't feel the need to test everything. Let alone see how far you can push yourself.

"Being here with the Fleet...is this similar for your line work?"

"Hmm, sort of. My work back home does involve me and my crew exploring uncharted space, but we generally have more control of where we go and we aren't watched like a bunch of experiments," He tapped the back of his neck for emphasis, near where the augment would be located. "And technically speaking, I've broken the Prime Directive a number of times being in this particular Fleet, but I think that can be forgiven considering the circumstances. Even if I wrote all this up in a report, I don't think the brass would believe me anyways."

"It sounds like this fleet is very informal in the way things are handled. I only wish there was more of a purpose here aside from being entertainment.

I came from a military background before I settled into my role as a butler. I'm not exactly one to shy away from breaking a rule or two, but only when I feel it's getting the results I need and couldn't get prior.

I've found as much as I hate to say it....that in times that the law doesn't always help but hold you back. Gotham City isn't exactly a walk in the park. If you don't learn quick on what to do, you don't survive. I do feel that the law helps keep you in check. It makes you remember who you are and not let you go down that dark path. With the way Gotham City is, it's needed to have that reminder. Only many choose not to follow it."

Alfred quietly explained as he began to set out a stew he was prepping earlier and some bread. It was always something easy to cook and something that he could use with what ever was in the kitchen at the time. He only felt that Kirk deserved to know some things on him since he seemed pretty hard on the young man's actions.

"Well, it is a mish-mash of people from all different types of worlds and backgrounds. I don't know the "functionality" was necessarily a key factor when picking who comes and who goes here," Kirk shrugged, watching Alfred work quietly. The part about him being army made sense with his carriage, and being former army did seem like a good background set of skills to have for a butler.

"You talk like you got experience there. You work on the shadowy side of the law when you're not butlering?" Kirk inquired, raising a brow slightly. The way Alfred talked, it sounded like he was really in the thick of it, doing things that maybe skirted laws, that, like Kirk he felt needed to sometimes be broken for the greater good. Rules had their place, of course, and he didn't really go out of his way to break them, but sometimes... sometimes you just knew what was right, even if a rule might say otherwise.

He was in the thick of things, not in the way that Kirk is probably thinking. He did hit a nerve that's been threatening to surface for some time.

"There are things I've done in the military that I'm not exactly proud of having done. But Gotham City....is a different experience altogether.

The Wayne family I had worked for were people that everyone had loved and respected. They did everything they could to help those around them. Only to be murdered in cold blood.

Their son, the one I'm now in charge of, witnessed their murder and has spent along time uncovering their deaths and the reason behind it. It's brought us through different people. Only instead of finding the answers we were finding more questions and witnessing other things going on.

In the process the city has become this No Man's Land. Where we're now separated from the rest of the world. No one is allowed to enter or leave the city. We can't get food, supplies, or help. They're pretending we simply don't exist. Even Wayne's enterprise isn't allowed to help that's outside the city.

How do you save a city where rules no longer exist? Let alone how can I help my charge, when I'm here? What can I do here?"

Alfred explained a little exasperated. He hated the fact that he couldn't do anything and was stuck doing the one thing he knew what to do.

He was honestly surprised with how open Alfred was being. He had struck him as the reserved butler sort, one to quietly observe and probably judge but not actually say anything about it, and keep everything close to his chest. A trusted sort, but not one to give up much about himself.

He sipped his drink in the quiet after, not wanting to give Alfred a flippant answer, though he wasn't sure Alfred was even looking for one. Sometimes you just needed to vent. But...

"I've been here three years now, maybe a little more. I don't count to closely," he tapped the edge of his glass thoughtfully. "But I've learned - I've learned that you can't worry all the time about what's happening at home. It sounds callous, but it's the truth. All you can do is have faith in those that remain. Faith that they'll be okay, that it will all somehow manage until you get back. And here? Here we keep moving forward, towards the way home, though it's despairingly slow. But I know we'll find a way. One day. Just not as quick as anyone would like."

There was quite a bit that Alfred hadn't revealed about himself, only just enough so Kirk could understand the situation that Alfred had arrived from. He felt that Kirk would understand and know enough to keep the situation to himself. He was thankful that Kirk had waited till he finished before responding. He was surprised to learn that one could be part of the Fleet for such a long time.

"You're saying that people here are trying to do something about this? What progress has been done? I would be more then happy to help lend a hand." Alfred replied a little more settled with the idea. While he wasn't keen on the whole waiting thing, he was going to have to accept the fact and try to do something here instead.

Kirk made a motion with his hand, not stemming Alfred's questions, but as if to say "not here". Not the Marsiva, the seat of power. On the ships, where he could properly tell him about the comm link that they had managed to secure away from Atroma. So far it had either gone unnoticed or was deemed not a threat, and Kirk wouldn't jeopardize that with to loose lips.

"Easier to talk about when we're back on the Tourist," he said aloud, hoping Alfred understood and didn't think he was blowing him off. He nodded to the food Alfred was working on. "Almost done? I can smell it already and my stomach is growling."

Alfred took the cue, realizing too late that he stepped into a sensitive subject in the wrong place and time. He didn't dwell on the subject any longer. "Right, the stew should be ready to serve. Just let me cut up some fresh bread to go with it. If there are any recipes you want me to follow let me know. I'll be happy to replicate them."

As he spoke he cut up the bread to serve with the stew.

"So long as you can make a really good apple pie, I'll be happy. I think our little replicator should be able to make those... or we can get something close enough from one of the planets stop at," Kirk moved to refill his glass as Alfred busied himself. "Sure glad to have a real cook back aboard again though."

"I have a few recipes in mind. As for the replicator I still don't fully trust using that. It's not something I'm familiar with using. Perhaps, you can show me how that device operates."

Alfred gave a nod toward the acknowledgement of having a cook. He then grabbed a bowl and filled with the bread. He placed them at the table where Kirk was sitting at. All his basic needs already set before him.

"You're friend, Remy had informed me that you prefer to do the breakfast on the Tourist? Do you wish for me not to cook then or just reserve certain days for you?"

"Ah, well, I do like cooking breakfast, but usually it's for - well, Remy. We're lovers," he explained. "You don't need to be shy about saying it either. There's no reason to hide it here. But back to breakfast - no, if you feel like cooking, I am happy to yield the floor to the much more experienced." He bowed to Alfred, ever the showman.

"Ah, well that's something that your partner failed to mention." Alfred replied more amused then anything.

"By all means keep to your routine, if I feel the desire to cook breakfast for everyone I'll do so."

Alfred waved off the bow and ushered Kirk to go sit down. "Eat before the meal gets cold."

"Yes, sir," Kirk chuckled, taking a seat and gathering his utensils even as he admired the plating Alfred had done up. Kirk was of the sloppier variety, but then pancakes weren't exactly a pretty sort of food - at least to him. There a lazy Sunday kind of food, slathered in butter and syrup and berries.

"If I make pancakes, you're welcome to some. I usually make to many anyways," he grinned, a touch lopsided, but still charming.

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