3. Death is a hell of a drug. [TEXT]

[umgekehrt]

[A Stildyne who's laid up in an infirmary bed is one who's got time to think, and a Stildyne who's laid up in an infirmary bed and on some fairly good pain medication is one who's thinking oddly. And if you take the bed and the medication and add easy access to a communicator...

Strikes backspaced.]

It's not the same species of gossip I'm used to here. Yes there's some of my native type. The shy breed that bolts from mouth to mouth and won't stand in the middle of a broad room. And then there's the braid. The network, I mean. The big comm feed we can all share. Regardless of rank, often. Thoughts on the day. Thoughts on the piloting. And people join in. Herd gossip. Standing around brazenly. Showing its colors.

Not something I've run into much. Not a bad thing. Just new.

And the society of the place. The way people group when it's not as much a mark of a man's self to be Security, Engineering, Command, Medical. When you weren't trained to the same tune. To some extent. Shakes out like you'd think. Bench specialist with bench specialist and rose gold with rose gold.

[Which is to say spies with spies and pirates with pirates but even high he doesn't want to out and cast aspersions.]

Then it doesn't. Fighting hulks with rebels, medical students with veterans, civilian with law enforcement with fleet with bench. The sheep at the door The wolves in the grain Whatever it was Robert said about it, it's interesting. I think I like it.

Not that it can't be its own kind of problem. But interesting.



[Private to Rassilon, still text, filter double and triple checked because he doesn't trust himself unaudited in this state]

Lord President. Been holding to my promise. Not to talk if there's not an emergency. There's been one. Been two.

There's plenty we don't know about one another. I'm working on it. I've been consulting. Learning. About your culture. Been talking to a consultant. That handsome little Doctor. The one with the surprising r's and the spoons. Not the one with the scarf.

Where was I I didn't know that it was a hard thing, to reveal a name.

I'm sorry I used yours to needle you. Not my intention to hit where it was soft.

My name fully is Brachi Stildyne, Chief Brachi Stildyne because I've been Fleet's creature a long time and you get used to being it. Even though I'm out.

I'd like to see if we can handle talking. In person. Extend the offer of my quarters. Sign of trust.

[He's tiring and his sentences are fragmenting, but as long as he can keep his spelling screwed on straight he can get this thing done before he thinks the better of it.]

Other locations acceptable. Just preferably private. Two days from now, say. Not now. Apologies. Laid up in medical. No use to anyone.


[Immediate slowtime for bed because I'm a bastard, but will be tagging first thing in the (too rapidly approaching) morning.]

Comments

[Private]

[championoftime]

[He's not sure what most of that meant. Other than Stildyne is high.] I hope you're feeling better, Mr. Stildyne. If you need anything in the infirmary do let me know and I'll tend to it during my shift.

[Private]

[der-umgekehrte.livejournal.com]

Kind of you, Doctor.

[Private]

[der-umgekehrte.livejournal.com]

[Later]

Not an infirmary matter but if you run into Lord Rassilon would you tell him I haven't been molesting you. He thinks I'm after your virtue.

[Private]

[championoftime]

...

There is really particularly no way that I can place in accurate words how amusing that accusation is coming from him.

Re: [Private]

[der-umgekehrte.livejournal.com]

Strongly suspect his grievance is that I'm a type one hominid. Not that he disagrees with my assessment of you. Which was perfectly innocent. I only mentioned you were handsome. Nothing suggestive. [He was being very good.]

[truth_is_cold]

What's a bench specialist?

[der-umgekehrte.livejournal.com]

They aren't Fleet. Some of them maybe were before they took the job. But they only answer to the bench. They'll go places, do things, answer to nobody.

Like Vogel. And Ivers. They were all right. As long as you kept an eye on them.

[truth_is_cold]

And the bench? [He will wade his way through high Stildyne to figure out what these words mean. Vogel and Ivers can come later.]

[der-umgekehrte.livejournal.com]

The judicial body that governs Jurisdiction space. Fleet technically is an entity its own. But they work hand in hand.

[subtlescience]

Categorising the gossip.

That's a new one.

[der-umgekehrte.livejournal.com]

It's currency. And entertainment. Why wouldn't you keep track of it, I say.

[subtlescience]

Currency.

Clearly, I've been gossiping the wrong way my entire life.

I've thought to withhold it for personal gain, but never barter with it.

[der-umgekehrte.livejournal.com]

Some of it isn't worth currency. Some of it is. Exchange rate varies of course. But sometimes it's worth a favor. The really good stuff.

Withhold it until the offer's good enough. That will do it. Or maybe it only works in Fleet. Where it's tasteless to talk with real words while you're in uniform.

[This has been high-times gossip-economics with your local ex-Warrant Officer]

[Private | Text]

[shortsghtedlove.livejournal.com]

["That handsome little Doctor."

...What :|] You shall not lay a hand on the Doctor!

And the name that is usually used for me is Lord Rassilon. [He wishes.] You may call me that as well.

But the name is not the worst problem. Even your mockery isn't that. But I made it clear how I felt about the file, and I offered to talk with you instead. About things I felt comfortable with you knowing, or at least things I was ready to tell you, even if uncomfortable.

Miss Tyler needed months for me to make that offer, and she needed months to break any trust she tried to earn.


But very well, I shall come then. It seems both my friends would rather I talk to you for some reason. [Why. Why do they always want him to talk with people. what's so bad about the good, old way of just killing them and be done with it? It worked!]



What did you do, anyway? Don't tell me you managed to die this fast?

[Private]

[der-umgekehrte.livejournal.com]

I haven't laid a hand on the Doctor. Can't a man notice that another man's charming without actually doing anything about it. I don't lay my hands anywhere they aren't welcome. He played the spoons on me once. But I didn't know he was going to. But that's not hands either. Spoons. [All right that wasn't as coherent as he meant it to be. FORGE ON.]

The file was necessary. We'll be having that fight for a long time. Using your name that way wasn't necessary. Apologize for the things I can choose, not the necessities.

Came down with a mild case of murdered. Back to full capacity soon.

[Private]

[shortsghtedlove.livejournal.com]

[...What?] In any case, don't try it in the future either. I do not appreciate harassing my friends.

And the file wasn't necessary. None of the information in there would be of any use to keep me safe from anyone here, if I even needed protection, and certainly none of the information I don't wish you to have. And going so clearly against my wishes makes me hardly more receptive to the idea of graduation, quite the opposite.

of course, any security points seem to be moot, anyway. I've been here since January without getting killed, and you manage to get murdered in your first one. How did that happen?

[Private]

[der-umgekehrte.livejournal.com]

I'm not harassing him. He's an acquaintance. An acquaintance distinctly not interested. Despite my loveliness. That's sarcasm. Hard to tell through text.

You aren't interested in graduation anyway. Put it from my mind already. But I need to know what sets you off. And a man himself is the last person. Who knows where the root of his hurt is.

Someone decided to kill me. And then they did. To make a point. I think.

[can-has-vodka.livejournal.com]

Oh no!

Oh no...I should have done something, why didn't I see?

[All the worry. All of it.]

May I come down?

[der-umgekehrte.livejournal.com]

Not your fault. Couldn't get to my comm. Own damn fault. Nobody knew.

Always welcome. Wouldn't mind company.

[spam]

[can-has-vodka.livejournal.com]

[The communicator makes a faint *ksht* noise as the connection relinks to another location. Then Arkady is peeking in, looking for her favorite friendly-hunk-o-granite. She hurries (carefully) over, and stands by his bed, pressing her lips together worriedly.]

Oh, how uncomfortable for you. Dying always is. Done it twice, myself.

[[spam]

[der-umgekehrte.livejournal.com]

Have you? First time I've had the pleasure. I'm sorry. Wouldn't wish it on you.

[He'd been using text because he's tired, and not tracking perfectly. He closes his eyes for a moment and remembers to add:]

Not asleep, sorry. Just trying to handle it. Never felt like this that I didn't actually have something broken.

[strangehistorian]

I think they're simply grouped more broadly. Inmates. Wardens. The essential nature of both carries throughout each group.

[der-umgekehrte.livejournal.com]

But friends intermix. The groups people make. The lovers they take. They don't gravitate together. Groups with one foot here and one there. Interesting. Isn't it?

[strangehistorian]

Well, everyone here is a mortal. They can't be expected to be perfectly organized or predictable even in the best of situations.

[der-umgekehrte.livejournal.com]

I expect mortals to be bastards. Sit in their same groups. With people who agree. Who're like them.

[Deep cultural anthropology is happening here. Duuuude.]