Log: Entering the 'find out' phase

[lastdecember]

CHARACTERS: It's a party, everyone's welcome!
TIME: 8/11/2524, immediately after the latest Status Report and for a few days after that
LOCATION: JAIL (the ship's brig, down at the very front of the ship) -- network text options also available!
WARNINGS: Talk of attempted murder, both past and potentially future


Given the ongoing operational crisis, there are three courses of action that may be considered; indefinite confinement (resource-intensive), re-initiation of cryo sleep (inefficient due to crew size), or psychological evaluation with restricted access and monitoring (most efficient course).

Final determination will be made by the Security Division.

From his cell, Wolfwood reads and rereads L3TH3's message over and over again. It's better than he'd been expecting, but he'd resigned himself to being put back into cold storage and only seeing daylight again at his court-martial. Now it's sounding like he's going to be allowed to remain part of the crew -- so long as those assholes in Security agree -- but with monitoring, and psychological evaluation.

Even clenching his hands into fists doesn't stop the shaking. He can't bring himself to regret what he did -- especially not after learning the miserable state the captain's in -- but if he'd known that the punishment for his actions would be a short leash at a doctor's whim? He might have made different choices.

Signing up for this mission might have been a mistake.

Comments

[anesthetic_rage]

Yeah, mistakes were made clearly. Zaeed wasn't going to argue with that. The door opened into the brig and put the food on the platter to be sent in to him before leaning against the wall opposite his cell.

"I see my favorite inmate's still here." He snorted. "I put my peace in. The others can send theirs and we'll see what the consensus is. Engines are holding for now." Wolfwood had been concerned about that.

[lastdecember]

Yeah, he's been worried about the engines. The fact that they're moving and finally through all those turbulence-causing asteroids are a lot of what's keeping Wolfwood together right now. The further they get from that nebula, the better.

He doesn't have any control over his future or his current state of containment, but he can pettily ignore that offered meal. He can pettily ignore Massani, too, pretending to keep scrolling on his CL-10 like he's not just reading L3TH3's report for the twentieth time. They're voting on his fate already, huh? That's fine. No reason to draw things out.

As much as he wants to know, he won't ask. However Massani voted to punish him, it's out of his hands. He'll find out soon enough what his sentence will be -- like hell is he going to beg for early answers, or mercy, before then.

[anesthetic_rage]

He just sighed at the silent treatment. Yeah, that was about what he expected. Zaeed grunted and folded his arms. No point that getting out of this nebula wasn't going to be immediate. It was making him nervous. "Vash was asking about you. Told him he could stop by and I'd let him in if he gets a moment free." He lifted off and turned towards the door. "There's a shrink who woke up, so they'll probably be checking in on you soon enough, one way or another."

He reached for the door, considered for a moment and then grunted again. "Don't hunger strike. Eat, dumbass." The door opened and he stepped out before letting it close behind him.

[overlies]

[ makima voted on pre-verdict evaluation. firstly, to buy time. secondly, to ensure that nothing is done under emotional and personal judgement rather than pure rational and the complexities (but factual) of science. once to his cell, makima stands in fron of it, white coat swinging with the grace of her fluid momentum. ]

Nicholas? Hello, [ her pointed ears poke out from the curtains of her auburn hair, and it becomes more prominent when she secures it all into a bun. ] I'm Makima.

[she waits for his response before proceeding with anything else, but he may feel it. golden eyes hardly stray away from him now. he's already being evaluated. every inch of him and his actions and reactions. ]

We haven't met yet.

[lastdecember]

[ Oh, he can feel it. Wolfwood might not have spent a lot of time around other people -- human or otherwise -- as a child, but he wasn't alone. Strays collect at the edges of civilization, and Wolfwood learned early on what it means to be a part of a pack, and what it means to be outside of one.

He's sitting casually on the edge of the bed when she arrives -- there's nowhere else in his cell to sit, nothing to do in the plain white box other than scroll through the files he can still access on his CL-10 and watch the lights flicker -- but he straightens up when he feels her eyes on him, and meets her gaze with his steady own. ]

You here to evaluate me?

[ His voice is a little tight -- he did crack a rib not that long ago, and it's still healing -- but other than that he looks perfectly healthy. His color's improved with regular meals and rest, and physically he's more than ready to return to duty.

Mentally? That's for her to determine, isn't it? ]

[overlies]

[ only to evaluate brings more tension to the table. she'd rather make it as comfortable as possible, even when there's little to none. ]

For protocol, yes— But think of it as a talk between crewmates.

[ she only has her tablet, specks, and smile. after giving the man a good look over, she gestures to the front of his cell. ]

I know it's not the most comfortable, but would you sit with me if I sat on the ground?

[lastdecember]

[ He doesn't talk to his crewmates, not really. If her friendly demeanor is intended to put him at ease, it's clearly and visibly having the opposite effect. Without a word he rises at her request, and drops down into a slouching sit in front of the hard light barrier where she indicated, moving like a man on his way to execution.

Doing what she tells him is a gesture of good faith, right? If he can prove he's not a threat then maybe she'll tell those fucks in Security to let him go. ]

Let's get it over with.

[ Maybe. ]

[overlies]

The more efficiently this goes, the faster you'll be back out here.

[ she sees bits and pieces of her puzzle already creating a map, just by how he carries himself, how he speaks, his body language and compliancy. there's something in her eyes as she welcomes him, combined with that smile— like a vixen with her eyes on a prize no one shall take from her. she's already decided, deep down. she has a feeling she knows what has happened. she's full of herself like any elheen raised to guide the hand of the human race who know so much less than they do.

if he did what he did to secure the rest of the crew, then she will set him free. she agrees. she'd do the same.

but that's jumping a few guns, isn't it? she can't exactly say any of that without compromising her professional stance (even though she overlooks the safety of the crew as a whole greater than the individual ones). ]

I was asleep— So what happened? Through your eyes.

[lastdecember]

[ Given the number of people who have come to him with that exact question, Wolfwood's starting to think he should have just written it all down, to save everyone time. His tone is flat and emotionless as he can make it -- that's what sane people sound like, right? Even-keeled? ]

The last shift brought in an infection, a disease in the dust or something from out in the nebula. It spread fast, and AI freaked out and killed everyone. It took us two days to clear away all the bodies.

[ He looks past her, glancing briefly over at the door to the Security offices. There'd been a couple bodies in there, dropped right where they'd been standing. Wolfwood doesn't believe in ghosts, and a good thing, too -- this ship was crewed by the dead for twenty years, and that sure sounds like the start of a ghost story to him. ]

L3TH3's programming won't let it kill the captain, so he ended up locked on the bridge, waitin' to die. So long as he's in there keepin' the virus or whatever alive with him, this whole ship's under emergency status. That means one engineer to keep us moving.

[ He smirks at her, but he looks more tired than arrogant. ]

Although we've got no shortage of Security and Medical, huh?

[ He had considered, at one point, breaking into the cryo bay and trying to wake up more crew himself. Only the certainty that L3TH3 would kill him on the spot stayed his hand. ]

Anyway. So we're stuck dead in space, one poor bastard trying to do the work of a whole team all by himself, and the damn AI refusing to get him any help so long as the virus is a threat. It wasn't that hard to figure out what had to happen.

[overlies]

[ makima hardly blinks— which might be a little offputting, so she does remind herself to do so as she listens attentively. very attentively. her ears are all his, and her eyes watches for the story his mind. was he calm, or agitated? anxious body language?

none of that, to indicate mental illness. he hasn't left grooming and appearance too unattended, either. now, that lack of emotion in his tone . . . she wants to see more. ]

Mutiny?

[ purposely placed, that word. she wants a follow up, and tests for a reaction. ]

[lastdecember]

[ No, he's clean, he's coherent, he's been eating and sleeping well -- for the past few days, anyway. He hates being in this damn cage but he's doing his best not to let that show -- other visitors have gotten to watch him pacing and snarling, but he's on his best behavior right now.

Even her choice of a very loaded word doesn't get more from him than an annoyed sideways glance, and a huff. ]

I wasn't trying to take over the damn ship, no. Do I look like command material to you?

[ He doesn't hold out his hands to the sides to illustrate his loser-ness, but only because he's sitting. His smirk fades into seriousness as he continues: ]

Somethin' shot at us, left us dead in space. We had to get moving again, and that meant more engineers, which meant less virus, and that meant one less captain.

[ He's trying to be blasé about what he did -- or tried to do, at any rate -- but he's really not a killer at heart. There's part of him that's ashamed of what he tried to do, and since he never learned how to govern his expressions and hide his emotions around other people, she can probably see it written all over his face. Drake had to die, to save everyone else -- he really believed that. Still believes it, in fact. ]

[tarakan]

A few days ago, Hilbert would have had a completely different attitude towards the idea of Wolfwood killing the captain. It's horrible, it's futile, it's ridiculous, even if it would be better for the captain to pass on considering the horrible state he must be in, they at least need to keep him alive long enough to run tests and get blood samples.

But now...Hilbert remembers Renee Minkowski. His commanding officer for a mission that he can't place. His commanding officer who he left stranded in outer space with only half an hour of oxygen. She's dead. She has to be dead. Hilbert can't think of any other option where she wouldn't be dead.

So he killed his captain. Somehow. Though he's not sure when or where, he remembers this. And Wolfwood's attempted to do the same.

Yeah, Hilbert's a little less certain about that 'let's probably not kill the captain' of it all now.

So he makes his way down to the brig, pushing the door open, as he lightly remarks, "While I appreciate taking initiative, please talk with medical department before you attempt next murder. We might have rationale for keeping patient alive."

[lastdecember]

There's really only so many times somebody can read through the operations manual, so by the time Hilbert comes sauntering in Wolfwood's actually happy -- for a given definition of the word -- to see the man. They're sending every doctor on the ship to talk with him, huh? His ego's going to run rampant if this continues.

"I'll make sure to clear it through your department first next time. My bad."

Tossing his CL-10 aside, Wolfwood sits up and stretches, cracking shoulders and spine back into alignment. He hasn't sat this still this long ever in his life, and he's getting stir-crazy from it.

"You all decide what to do with me yet?"

[tarakan]

"I am general practitioner," Hilbert points out, his Russian accent making his deadpan tone sound even more deadpan. "Not psychologist. Personal recommendation is psychological evaluation and restricted access but at end of the day, Security has final say. So no, have not yet decided what to do."

Hilbert shrugs a little before idly continuing, "Mostly came for personal chit-chat. After all, we have only been defrosted a month before attempted treason? Congratulations. New record."

Though Hilbert may joke, his body language remains stiff. There's something about all of this that's rubbing him the wrong way, even if he won't admit it.

[lastdecember]

Personal chit-chit, huh? Between a near picture-perfect repeat of what the first doctor said, and a tense body language that even Wolfwood can read, Wolfwood's not feeling good about this conversation at all. There's a lot of teeth in his grin as he nods, as though Hilbert just paid him an excellent compliment.

"Never been the kinda guy to sit around twiddlin' my thumbs." Hilbert said he voted for Wolfwood to be released, so long as the shrink agrees that he's sane enough to get back to work. But if he's this tense, does that mean that the security team feels otherwise? Or is Hilbert having second thoughts about his vote? It's not like Wolfwood can do anything about it one way or the other, but fuck he wishes that they'd all just make a decision already! Waiting to find out his fate is torture.

"Although, just for the record, it wasn't treason. That was mercy."

[tarakan]

"Attempted murder of the captain is dictionary definition of treason," Hilbert muses. Yes, it probably is a mercy. After all, the captain is probably horrifically suffering (if he was even alive to begin with—Hilbert isn't entirely sure if the captain is here or not to begin with.)

"I know you will probably say something like 'captain is suffering, attempted murder is a kindness.' But it is still attempted murder."

[lastdecember]

He's really been doing all right without cigarettes since enlisting -- he was never much of a smoker anyway but goddamn, after the last few days? If he ever gets out of here one of the first places he goes is going to be colonist equipment storage. There's tobacco in there, vacuum sealed for the journey, and he needs it.

"Do I seem like a kind guy to you, Doc?" Wolfwood slides off the bed and stalks over to meet Hilbert where he's at. "I didn't try to kill Drake to ease his suffering, or anything like that." That kind of mercy should be the job of a doctor, not some hauler from Ops.

"I tried to kill him because as long as he's alive, the disease that got everyone else murdered is still on the damn ship." He folds his arms, barely resisting the urge to pace. He needs to get out of this cage before he goes insane -- please put that in your report, Doc. Wolfwood does not do well in enclosed spaces.

Makes his choice to sign up for a tour in a spaceship funny as hell in retrospect, doesn't it?

"There's one engineer awake right now, one. Something happens to that guy and we're all fucked, because the damn AI won't wake anyone else up until every trace of that sickness is gone."

[tarakan]

Hilbert remains calm. He remains still, arms crossed over his chest, scowl of an expression as he looks at Wolfwood. He'll let him pace, he'll let him grumble, he'll let him ramble before they get to something that might be a stopping point. At that point, Hilbert dryly asks,

"Are you finished?"

And assuming he is, Hilbert continues with, "Did you know command protocols are broken? AI is unable to designate any one of us as command staff. I asked, tried to learn more, ended up with AI in error loop. What do you think will happen when you kill only person on ship who has that designation?"

[plantussy]

Hello, Wolfwood!

[ One blonde disaster, coming over to the Brig with his hands full of coffee and a public CL-10. Vash looks... well, he looks a lot better. Like a guy that has had at least 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep, three meals a day and regular showers. ]

I got you coffee, and a tablet full of movies and books in case you didn't have access to that. I checked it with security first.

[ He puts one of the coffees and the tablet in a hole next to the cell, and it switches over to Wolfwood's side. ]

How are you doing?

[lastdecember]

[ olfwood looks much better than he did during Saverem's last visit too -- it's amazing what a couple of regular meals and plenty of sleep can achieve, huh? He's on his feet as soon as he sees Saverem, and the mug he's carrying, all but plastering himself against the hard light barrier so that he can grab the coffee the instant Vash passes it through. The tablet he'll appreciate later -- for now, he needs to pour that entire coffee down his throat. Yes, he did just chug it. Yes, he did burn his mouth, but he doesn't fucking care ]

Crybaby, you're a lifesaver.

[ Looks like the nickname's sticking. Sorry, Saverem. ]

Doctor Chef, he's feedin' me meals fit for th' boardroom but they've got nothin' in 'em, no spice or anything! It's all... healthy.

[ For somebody who grew up on a nature reserve with a bunch of environmentalists, he sure does love his stimulants! ]

My head's been poundin' for days. [ He holds up the now empty mug, and gives it a little wave. ] I needed that.

[plantussy]

[ Vash is pretty relieved to see that the other man is looking better, too. There's a bit of a chuckle as he's called 'crybaby' again, and then another one when Wolfwood chugs the coffee like it's a lifesaver. ]

Looks like I need to bring you a cup every time I visit. Maybe a whole pot.

[ He takes a sip of his own coffee, leaning against the wall to chat with the terrible, awful criminal like he's an old friend. Vash feels pretty at ease around Wolfwood, which is both weird and nice at the same time. ]

Bland food and no coffee? No wonder you have a headache. Food like that is just depressing.

[ He gives the cell a glance. It looks... well, very sterile, but not torturous. At least not physically. ]

I can bring you pizza next time. Or donuts. Do you like those?

[lastdecember]

[ He still doesn't know what it is about Sunshine here -- a nickname he will not be sharing, thanks -- that makes him feel so comfortable. It's not just that he's nice. Half the shift are nice people, bringing him soup and... well, no, that's really it, it's Saverem and the Doc and then a bunch of assholes, but still! He knows this guy, somehow. It doesn't make any sense, but maybe one day he'll figure it out.

Assuming he doesn't end up half a mile down in a prison cell somewhere. ]

No. That shit's too sweet for me.

[ Was that rude? Does he care? ...Shit, he does care! See, this guy just messes with him just by being here! He doesn't understand it at all! ]

I mean... just the coffee's good. Fine. Enough. More than enough, it's...

[ Ugh, what is wrong with him today!? Why is having a friend so damn hard? ]

It's good. It's good coffee.

[plantussy]

[ Oh, the guy is tripping on his words like he's not used to kindness and Vash can't help wondering if he isn't. Wolfwood is paranoid and apparently violent but the engineer doesn't really care. He wants to share a drink with this guy one day. ]

Duly noted. Coffee by the gallon and pizza slices next time.

[ It's a promise, jail guy. ]

Did you read the recent report, by the way? Looks like we're on track again.

[lastdecember]

[ Don't read his personal file, Sunshine. It'll just depress you.

Wolfwood takes a spot near the spot in the cell he's taking to privately calling the shit hole -- shit gets passed through it from one side of the hard light barrier to the other -- leaning one shoulder against the barrier and toying with his now-empty mug. ]

Yeah, if you call two years to get out of here bein' on track.

[ There's no windows anywhere nearby, and that's a blessing -- he doesn't have to watch the nebula drift by, doesn't have to think about what else might be lurking inside it every minute of every day. ]

Can't this thing go any faster? The longer we're stuck in this murder-bug gas cloud the more likely we're all fucked.

[plantussy]

Two years is pretty fast. We've already traveled for over sixty, and if this was the old kind of ships...

[ Vash does a bit of mental calculation. ]

A nebula can be hundreds of light years across... so about a million or more years.

[ He doesn't mean to freak the guy out more - just telling him they're doing okay. They're lucky the Mnemosyne is such a modern ship. ]

We don't even know if we've passed the area where the infection started. We'll be okay.