nysalogs | the sky was made of amethyst ( & open )

[ The thing is, her cool as cucumber reaction actually makes Jim more suspicious, because someone who wasn't trained to deliberately not notice him giving her the side-eye would probably ask why he was doing so. At least, that's how his brain works-- and it's not really suspicion, is it? No, it's curiosity. One of Jim's weaknesses. For all his understanding of privacy and the very real probability that Peggy is, one way or another, just doing her job - whatever that might be - there's a huge part of him that wants to poke at her and see what happens.

Hopefully on some level she appreciates the amount of self-restraint !! it's taking to talk about Voss instead. BUT ... the Voss stuff is pretty interesting, so, there's that. We'll all see what happens when he gets a drink in him. ]

I was surprised, [ he admits. ] I was taken in to see him right away, and he spoke totally candidly about their observations. The astronomers did a pretty good job keeping records of a phenomenon - that happens to coincide with the night Darma's message failed. There was a flickering and dimming of luminescence over Thesa for three hours, and when it stabilized, several dark spots abruptly appeared on the surface. Points of -- they called it darkness, or shadow, followed by light, moved across the surface and away, four in total. Like tiny comets. They had a map and pattern graphs, too, I couldn't get a picture, but the points of origin were all points on the station that the orbiters correspond to.

The Natha left. They got in ships and they left.

[ Maybe she's just that unflappable, Jim Kirk. Although yes, she does appreciate the fact he doesn't outright ask. She's so bone-weary that until this conversation has some alcohol, she's not stepping back from the edge she's balanced so precariously on no matter how amiable she may seem on the surface.

She listens attentively, brows raising slowly over the course of what he tells her. By the end, she exhales sharply, shaking her head. ]

Good Lord. [ The Natha abandoned them. She doesn't feel betrayed but she is deeply concerned over the implications and what it means for their loved ones in stasis even if they're safe... for now. Peggy rubs at her temple, eyes closing. ] All right. What have you learned about the station itself? I assume you've spent some time poking around it.

I have. [ Possibly a lot of time, who knows how long this has all gone on. Time is mysterious. But - yes, he has, and only got back for a few hours before he shouldered his pack and set off towards Olympia. It'd have been easier not to touch down in Wyver first, but a friend needed a hand. ]

The damage - the way the power's flickering and some areas are shut down - is due to a sudden, unorthodox push into a low-power mode. Like.. you have a car and to turn it off you have to put it in park then shut the engine off. If you just abruptly ripped the key out of the ignition, you'd cause damage. The more advanced machine you do that sort of thing to, the more damage you risk. The Natha slammed Thesa into a low-power mode faster than was safe. It's fixable, the damage is largely superficial, but that's what they did.

[ Jim sighs, leaning back in his chair. ] Between that, and--

[ Suddenly, the lights in the room, artful things on the walls, cast hundreds of bright spots in the shape of butterflies like intangible fireworks. Jim's face does something interesting, and in that heartbeat, a loud thundering knock at the door occurs. ]

Mister Kirk! [ booms a voice from the hall, ] Your food for you, sir!

Motherfff... [ he's up, he's up, he's getting the door. Jesus Christ. ]

[ The technology of her time isn't quite up to par with Thesa or what Jim is familiar with, but his explanation lays it all out well enough for her. That, and being a part of the Strategic Scientific Reserve and Howard Stark's friend — simply put, pulling the plug on a machine rather than following the correct sequence to shut it down. Low-power mode makes her wonder if the Natha's goal wasn't to shut the station down entirely but rather to let it run on the bare minimum to avoid... what, detection? It would make sense.

London was in a blackout during the Blitz. A brownout in the later parts of the war, with heavy light discipline so the Germans couldn't find their targets when they came to bomb the city. She's about to say as much when the lights in this room abruptly shift; that, along with the commotion at the door, kicks Peggy's reflexes into gear and she stands as quickly as Jim does — and immediately regrets it when her left leg flares in pain and half-buckles under the sudden weight. ]

Bloody hell, [ she hisses, one hand flying out to grip the edge of the table. She sucks in a breath and levels a glare at the door as the food and drink are brought in, passing off her reaction as indignation at the intrusion and light show rather than anything more severe. ] I wish you'd taken my recommendations into consideration, Mister Kirk. I don't think I care for the ambience of this particular establishment.

[ The overlarge busboy is happy to laugh off their reactions, apparently used to it. Food and drink are deposited while Jim attempts stilted manners (not too successfully), and no sooner than the door's shut behind him, the lights return to normal.

Jeez. ]

Everything else was booked, [ he says wryly. ] Beach traffic, still, and with the attack on the artifact convoy, no one wants to travel. But, look. [ He picks up the crystal bottle of amber liquid and indicates the tumblers. ] We're saved.

[ He pours for her, first. ] Sure you're okay?

[ The food smells good, at least, and it hits him just how hungry he is. Oof, what a relief, even if room service is a circus. Jim sits back down again and raises his glass. ] Here's to figuring some of this out.

[ Cheers, swallow. ]

What was I saying? [ Oh - ] Right. Between Voss's observations and the state of the station, I think they're hiding us from something.

[ She waves off his question after her well-being with a shake of her head and a bracing sip of her drink (slightly more generous than is perhaps ladylike) once the requisite toast has been made. There are more pressing matters and there's nothing to be done about her state except press on. If anyone from the Royal Guard asks about it — particularly Commander Ashti — she has to keep up the charade.

Jim mentions the Natha choosing to obscure their presence from something and she makes a soft noise of understanding. ]

I was thinking along the same lines. [ Peggy taps a manicured nail against her glass before setting it down so she can sit back down, albeit gingerly. ] There's precedence for the station being under attack. Maybe whoever was responsible last time came back for more and rather than risk us or the planet, the Natha abandoned ship. [ She presses her lips into a line, clearly unhappy with it. ] Of course, that suggests the Storm isn't the only threat to our way of life. There's a cheerful thought.

Mm. [ A noise of agreement. He gestures for her to have whatever she'd like to eat, if she wants, because he's definitely going to stuff his face. Though not talk with his mouth full, he wasn't raised by wolves.] It's a given that the Storm isn't the only threat. The Natha survived, they allowed us to survive - there's no way that there aren't more survivors. Maybe survivors who want a planet for themselves, or maybe more of the same race of aliens that the Natha are, who aren't happy with the resources spent on us.

[ Jim takes a moment to eat something, knock back some more whiskey. Thoughtful. ]

Or the Storm isn't what we thought. Or, none of this is what we thought, and that's a rescue attempt. Could be anything. But with the people in stasis being so critically vulnerable from any kind of attack in space, we have to assume whatever's going on is an immediate and real danger to us, and treat it like that.

[ A single fuckup could mean the end of everyone up there, which is not acceptable. ]

[ He might not talk with his mouth full, but as Peggy reaches for a hunk of bread and cheese at his offer, she certainly does: ]

Out of the frying pan...

[ Those few weeks of peace and quiet after her group landed on the surface feel like a distant memory. And they essentially are, as they creep up on their one year anniversary of being awake on the planet. But it's been one thing after the other lately and with everything Jim lays out, the pile of questions easily overtakes the one of answers. God, they haven't had answers for much of anything.

But morbid as it may sound, the war was where she found herself and domesticity wasn't in the cards when it was over. This is what she's good at. Jim had guessed she was a soldier; he's not entirely wrong. ]

We had discussed the possibility of organising shifts of refugees to keep watch upstairs. Do you think that's still our best course of action? Because if so, then we should bring it up with the council and perhaps the network as a whole. People may not be eager to get involved with the conflict on the planet, but when it's a matter of their loved ones in stasis...

Edited 2018-06-07 19:10 (UTC)

[ Attempts to instill charming midwest manners in Jim had largely failed except for one point: Winona Kirk's vicious open-palmed smack to the back of his head whenever he tried talking and chewing at the same time. Whenever he tried a great number of things, actually, but that one stuck by virtue of the pain of bitten cheeks and tongues it often caused, which were worse than a sore head.

He still puts his elbows on the table. ]

Is it feasible to open discussion with something we have to keep private through the council and expect the natives not to notice? [ A real question. What are the mechanics of that, Jim has no idea. ]

I've been working with a couple other people who're from worlds with space travel and the like, and so far we're just laying low with it, given so much else is already going on. Someone already posted to the network announcing the Natha's disappearance, which just increased the number of people rushing up to the stasis pods and nervously pointing weapons around at each other. I'm amazed there hasn't been an accident just from refugees being jittery.

Edited 2018-06-07 19:56 (UTC)

[ She did see that post and frowned upon it for the exact same reasons — panic does no one any good, neither does spreading disinformation, however genuine the intent to help. No one knows anything. No one knows anything. Best not to make matters worse. ]

I am too, but we can't take back what was said now. So perhaps putting forward some semblance of a plan might instil a bit of reassurance. One less thing to worry about may help, if it's managed properly.

[ Peggy lapses into silence, thinking, taking another sip of her drink. She rests the edge of the glass against her bottom lip, then half-lowers it when she speaks again, cutting her gaze across the table to him. ]

As you said, people are grappling with a great deal at the moment, and that's only in regards to what they know about. The raid, the Natha, the station. A bloody dragon. [ Possibly spies in the Guard and the Institute. ~~She's one of them, technically.~~ ] For the sake of confidentiality, perhaps we restrict all discussion to the network. From my understanding, the locals can't access it, but there are certain encryptions that can be put in place if necessary.

[ What don't they know about, he wonders, besides what's being discussed here? And even this, Jim doesn't plan to keep top secret. ]

They don't have access, [ he confirms. ] It's on a kind of frequency that their technology isn't even capable of detecting, much less logging on to. [ Of course, he'd have to somehow get ahold of admin powers to be able to tell if anyone's accessed it that shouldn't have. ] I've noticed you using encryptions, yeah.

[ It shouldn't be surprising that he can pick up on those things, given his cultural immersion in technology. Jim takes another drink. ]

The 'semblance of a plan' is what I'm working on, currently. I don't want to go out there and lay everything on the table and hope a chaotic discussion can magically net results, because that's not going to work. [ He leans forward, talking a bit with his hands, like he's making an invisible graph on the table. It's not important, he's just restless with work to do, despite his exhaustion. ] First thing that needs to happen is that I get back up there and continue to work to find all the damage and do repairs. Which means I need to find anyone who can do that without supervision, if there are any I don't already have on board. Simultaneously, I need to figure out who's a potential monitor-sitter, and who's a potential defense pilot. As in, people who don't need training or supervision.

Once we've got that, that'll be the baseline, and starting a dialogue of, 'Hey, this is the situation, if there's anyone who isn't going to be strictly needed in what's happening on planet would like to learn how to interact with these things and help up here' will be do-able with minimal panic impact.

[ She listens quietly as he speaks, nodding at points, not interrupting. Jim is more than capable of spearheading this particular issue and she's more than happy to let him do so; this isn't in her wheelhouse, not really. The technology is advanced for a woman of the 20th century and while she has a good grasp on some of it and the ability to learn quickly, she understands that efficiency is key here.

She's on the surface engaging in espionage, monitoring the political climate. What happens in the sky above is better left to those who have an intimate understanding of that world. They all have their parts to play in this. ]

That's more than a semblance of a plan. It sounds like a damn good one to me. [ She reaches over to pluck a bit of food from the centre of the small table, popping into her mouth before continuing. ] So you're looking for a team, [ she clarifies with a thoughtful air, chewing as she speaks. She points at him. ] I may have someone for you. From my understanding, he's one of the greatest scientific minds of his time. [ Peggy smiles briefly, inclining her head. ] Which is after mine, as it happens, but I knew his father and the apple didn't fall far from the tree. I'll speak with him and send him your way if I can.

Edited 2018-06-09 04:03 (UTC)

[ This is probably the most confident Jim's felt on El Nysa, despite how much of it is dangerously unknown, just because it's something he understands. Could he help with the problems with the shamans? Yeah, probably. But so can dozens of other people, while the number who can pop the hood on a space station are lower. ]

I'd take on anybody at your recommendation, [ Jim says. Not chewing as he speaks. ] I've got a couple who I'm sure are dedicated, but I know there have to be more people from high-tech worlds, or who have compatible experience.

[ Who knows if this guy'll work out, but giving it a shot can't hurt. Mm, food. ]

There's more from Voss. By the way.

[ She's taking a sip of her drink when he replies and she smiles into it; he trusts her, and she trusts him. It's nice to have something of a team of her own between Steve and Tony, Jim and Eggsy. Losing John Watson was a blow and one she still feels keenly — in this new world, it's important to find people who can help make sense of it, protect it. This helps. ]

I can vouch for Mr Stark, [ she interjects. Then raises an eyebrow when he circles the conversation back to Voss. ] I shouldn't be surprised, the man does love to talk. What more is there?

[ Jim raises his eyebrows like Oh, boy. ]

Well, he's noticed the lack of 'blessings' from Thesa, in the form of refugees. Which he thinks is a bad omen, of course. [ And it might as well be. No more people were woken up because the Natha have fucking dipped. ] He started to go on and on, practically ranting about it. His opinion is that the cycle of violence that El Nysa has been in - for the past two centuries, he said - has caused the changes in the moon. He says he's been doing research and it's led him to believe that centuries ago, Thesa sent more 'messengers', but that they all must have been killed by the native Nysans out of xenophobic aggression.

And. [ Here's where it gets really interesting, in Jim's opinion. ] He said he was in a hurry, so I asked why. He was preparing to leave on an 'annual summer pilgrimage' to the west to seek 'greater understanding of Thesa'. He's going with a companion, but he wouldn't say who. What's out west, do we have any idea?

[ She frowns sharply at that, setting down her glass on the table. ]

West?

[ Peggy shakes her head, thinking over the mental map she's plotted of the surrounding region — she hasn't traveled as much as she'd like, tied to her post as a member of the Royal Guard and the goings on in Olympia. Jim is aware she wants to correct it, she does still mean to venture south to Wyver again someday. But out west? ]

There's nothing out there. That is, [ she amends, lips pressing together, ] there's an island called the Outlook. It's where my group crash-landed; we camped out for the night before hiking out towards the West Outpost and, eventually, Olympia. It took days and it wasn't a walk in the park, not with the things living in the forests.

Why would Voss... [ She's about to sit back in her seat when the next thought strikes, and she straightens. ] Bloody hell. [ It's a whisper. ] If he's made this pilgrimage every summer around the same time, then last year's would have happened before my group got here. If that's where he's headed, he'll find evidence of the pods we came down in.

[ The pods. He's seen the wreckage of one - up on Thesa when Dorian had held his forum for them, and had put out a display to sum up their strange history on the planet. ]

Shit. I didn't even think of that.

[ Of course he wouldn't, though, because Jim's only been here a few months, and he's never been out that far. Moments like these he laments the lack of a publicly accessible timeline of what the refugees have been through-- maybe that's a project for another time, if they all live through this. ]

And the Natha aren't here to throw one of their cloaking tricks over it. [ A beat. ] Unless they already have. It's not like that area is totally closed off or anything, is it?

[ Even if they've already masked the wreckage, they're still not here, and anything could go wrong. ]

Sending anyone out there to try and destroy or remove the remains would probably look even stranger than just Voss finding it.

[ She shrugs at his question, uncertain. She hasn't been back to the Outlook since the day they arrived, but to her memory, the area is uninhabited. At most, maybe some scouting parties sent out from Olympia once in a while. But the threat of invasion from nations outside their grouping of isles is relatively unlikely, given the toxic fog.

Then again, that's what they've been told. ]

Unfortunately, I agree. [ She huffs out a breath. ] Trying to cover our tracks will look even more suspicious. They could still put two and two together, trace those ships back to those of us who arrived last summer. They know we came in from the west, the Outpost had a festival welcoming us. Our descent was a meteor shower seen as a blessing.

[ #yikes ]

But there's no way of knowing, not unless we follow him. [ Which she can't manage with holding down the fort here. ] Curiouser and curiouser, as they say.

A meteor shower that brought 'prophets' from the moon. Meteors seen streaking across the moon during an ill omen. And the very real possibility that Voss and his mystery companion are going to find space pods in the western wilderness.

[ It's not going to take a genius detective to put something together, there. Hopefully the Natha had foresight about the area - they've been observing the planet for hundreds of years, after all, and annual means Voss has done this before.

But putting faith in such quiet overlords whose attention locked access to the refugee network during the abductions, without actually aiding them in locating their peers, is a tall order. Especially while they're absent. ]

Getting busted stalking the man probably won't help either. We'll just have to hope. And play real dumb if he finds anything.

[ It's a headache and a half, certainly, but nothing entirely new. They still don't know how long the Natha have been rescuing people from the Storm, but somehow Peggy doubts they're the first refugees to be placed planetside. Maybe they're the first group in decades, otherwise others would have come forward (surely?). But if the Natha are competent enough to spirit them away from their own worlds, then it seems doubtful they'd slip up by leaving evidence of their descent out in the open.

Doesn't it? ]

That shouldn't be difficult. [ Playing dumb. Peggy's lips quirk. ] We've had to do that since we got here. It's a wonder any of us have kept the secret for so long, but I suppose the Natha were vigilant about that. But maybe things will change with their absence.

[ Well, Voss did say he thinks there were more, but that they were driven off by natives. Killed, or maybe they live elsewhere, somewhere past the fog. Maybe they integrated, had children, told no-one. ]

No one wants to risk the safety of their friends in stasis, [ Jim says with a shrug. Then he moves to refill their glasses. ]

Where are we even supposed to be from, as far as the natives who don't think we're blessings from the moon are concerned? Do any of our mystery colonies have a name, do we have a culture?

[ That's the question, isn't it? Are these people so caught up in their own cities that they haven't bothered to learn who else was sharing the isles with them? No one has tried to poke holes in their stories — or, at least, in Peggy's own experience. Not even the commander of the Royal Guard. ]

When I first approached Ashti about joining up with the Guard, she didn't seem to find it unusual that I'd come from elsewhere. I told her my brother was a soldier who had been killed in the line of duty and I wanted to honour his memory. [ That much, at least, is true. ] She didn't ask what battle he fought in or where I came from, only remarked that she'd heard of colonies where the genders weren't seen as equals and that Olympia would prove them wrong.

[ Peggy shrugs, picking up her glass again. ]

It seems we get away with so much because no one cares to look too closely. That's naive to say, of course; I'm sure there are skeptics. [ Like Cree. ] But I've managed to dodge the worst of it.

Yeah, what colonies?

[ This is, of course, a rhetorical question. But seriously, there's nowhere to go. It's ridiculous that no one's asked, and that they don't have a collective cover story. Not that a collective cover story would even work, considering how different they all are. ]

It's entirely possible that some of the extremist focus on us is because we're practically ghosts, that way. Then again, even natives have a hard time answering questions about their own history. Maybe it's just a familiar lapse expect of everyone.

[ But it's weird. ]

[ She exhales loudly at that, almost a laugh, but she's far from amused. ]

Frustrating, isn't it? But I suppose we aren't the sort of people to accept things at face value.

[ Her and Jim, she means. Other refugees too, like the ones who have since returned to stasis; but the two of them have been digging a little deeper where others haven't. That's no fault of theirs — call it an insatiable curiosity as well as part of their particular jobs.

She takes a sip of her drink, knowing it's only a matter of time until Jim asks about her own background beyond what she's offered. ]

But maybe that isn't wise, given what you said about Voss' theories about previous 'messengers.' Maybe laying low is an unspoken understanding. Curiosity killed the cat and all that.

[ But satisfaction brought it back. ]

I don't think face value exists.

[ Not with people, not with politics or anything else. Something larger is still going on here - larger than the extremists, and Olympia versus Wyver.

Maybe even larger than the Storm. ]

The truth about us is going to get out eventually. Probably in our 'generation' of messengers. And we're going to see just how deep a wound lying to everyone is going to leave.

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