2022-01-20: Do You Really Think That Love Is Gonna Save The World
- Log: Do You Really Think That Love Is Gonna Save The World
- Cast: Alexis Kerib, Eight York
- Where: The Ra Mari (Earth Atmosphere, Somewhere Over East Asia)
- Date: 2022-01-18
- Summary: An unexpected visitor appears on the Ra Mari as one of its pilots fights desperately in Nouvelle Tokyo. He and Captain York have a conversation.
This log takes place at the same time as (Insert Log Later When It's Posted).
<Pose Tracker> Eight York has posed.
The bridge of the Ra Mari is not completely quiet. Oh, it's not /noisy/, though there are noises, the beeps and boops of displays, the breathing of crewmen, the hum of the systems and the low thrum of the engines. But the bridge is not full; there are people at many of the stations, but not a Full Crew as might be the case in battle. Licia Chovan, a woman from the Republic of Zeon, has the helm... And the bridge itself, well:
There is the wide window out into the world, along with at least a dozen monitors hanging from the ceiling; consoles line the front near the window, and there are a couple of consoles farther back as well. In front of the map display in back is Captain York's chair, where she currently sits going over the inputs from each station to her personal console. It is uneventful, at the moment.
"Carry on Ensign," Eight finishes a statement to Chovan, and looks out to whatever's outside.
<Pose Tracker> Alexis Kerib has posed.
Moving through the world becomes so much faster when you approach it as concepts, and not as space. Alexis sees someone in a place he has concerns about; he notices a unit insignia on her mobile weapon; he decides he'd like to relate to the people she relates to as an ally as a guest.
So he does.
Eight looks outside. The instant she turns her attention to the bridge again, the instant her gaze shifts, there's something there that wasn't there before. A 7'8" figure, with a head ablaze, stands in the middle of the bridge. "Is this the bridge of the vessel the 'Kakapo Squadron' resupplies from?" he asks, tone pleasant, polite -- as if he were some hapless but well-meaning gentleman making sure he stepped into the right conference room. "I'm rarely misplaced, but your world is in such turmoil. These things do occur."
<Pose Tracker> Eight York has posed.
Eight looks out the window. It's a nice view. In-atmosphere, there are beautiful colors and clouds out there, because they're on the way to rendezvous with one of the ship's pilots, once the current crisis is over. This is what Chovan is working on.
But the instant that her gaze shifts, there is something /there/, some/one/ there, and she feels it as much as sees it. A very tall individual with a burning head is there in the center, right in front of her chair.
"Wh--Holy SHIT--" says Chovan, who turns from her console to reach for her sidearm immediately. "You there! Free--
Eight lifts a hand to forestall her, and turns to face Alexis properly, unaware of who or even what he is--but his tone is pleasant, so...
"It is," Eight says. "I'm Captain York, commanding the Ra Mari." A pause. "It's true that there's a lot going on. But you have me at a disadvantage, mister...?"
If he can just appear out of nowhere, shooting at him isn't likely to be the best way to go. So Eight tries to keep her crew calm by being calm herself. She radiates it, practically... along with either curiousity or wariness, depending on your perspective. To those with the right senses. But you don't have to be psychic to see that Alexis here has the Captain's full attention.
<Pose Tracker> Alexis Kerib has posed.
Alexis is direly unaware of even the loudest emotional background radiation of the room. He simply exists, as himself, and everyone else has to deal with that. The good news is that this means he also broadcasts essentially nothing; he is utterly inscrutable, even to the most easily-overwhelmed and broadly-open Newtype.
"Alexis Kerib," he says, with a slight incline of his head. He translates across the room, moving to Eight's side. "Captain York, is it? Ah -- you must be the commanding officer of the mobile weapon I saw." A series of teal panels light up across his metallic face -- like a mouth, in a rictus smile.
"A threat approaches your world and mine alike. Tell me, Captain -- do the words, 'Triple Zero,' or 'Oath Over Omega,' yet hold any meaning to you...?"
He seems to float a little further to the side. "I can hardly tell you everything, mind. But one of your pilots is locked in battle with it, at the moment."
<Pose Tracker> Eight York has posed.
Eight can't get a read on him, but that's not particularly /more/ disturbing than his size, appearance, or habit of simply /being/ places instead of crossing the intervening space, so Eight isn't overwhelmed by it. Frankly if he /could/ sense her emotions there'd be a lot of 'what the fuck?' going on. But she was trained for...
No, not really. But she accepts that reality is stranger than she knows, sometimes. And so this is a possibility that could exist.
"Alexis Kerib," she repeats, as if committing it to memory. "I suppose I am." She doesn't know what he's seen. Those panels light up, like a terrible smile...
There are a /lot/ of questions that compete for her first ask, here. Another world? But 'one of her pilots' wins out.
"No," she answers simply and honestly. "They don't. What do you know of my pilots?"
She knows--Rena is fighting. She can feel it. And that little bit of tension finds its way into her hand, curling about the armrest of her chair.
Her eyes follow him.
<Pose Tracker> Alexis Kerib has posed.
"Very little, I assure you -- save that one is locked in a battle for her life against something inevitable," Alexis answers, calm and smooth despite the situation. "At the moment, though, it is but a tiny sliver of itself. I'd liken it to the tip of a nail hammered through the floor of the universe."
He continues to translate. "Really, that's all I can tell you; the rest will need to come from your allies, on its own time. So instead, tell me, Captain -- what is it you were hoping to accomplish in the Earth Sphere? Enforcing your will? Saving the world from threats external...?"
He scans the bridge for an empty console to sit at; finding none, he asks, "Perhaps we should find somewhere to sit and speak?" Another bright-teal smile. "Emotions often run so high on a bridge. The only place they seem to run higher is standing on the bow." ... does he do a lot of standing on the bow of a ship?
<Pose Tracker> Eight York has posed.
'Inevitable', Alexis says, and it is not a word that Eight likes very much. Nor is the implication that it is as dangerous as it sounds like it. "...All right." But she believes him that he doesn't know much about her, and will have to trust in Rena for the moment. She lets go the console where her fingers had tightened around it.
She's not so sure if he means 'can' or will' in terms of telling her more, but he brings a different question to mind quickly enough as he prompts her. What does she want to accomplish?
She lifts an eyebrow. But before she can answer that, he looks and doesn't find a place to sit, which gives her a prompt she very much wants to take him up on.
"Yes," Eight agrees, and rises from her chair. "They do. And I don't spend much time on the bow, so I'll have to take your word for it." Pause. "Miss Chovan, you have the bridge." She nods to him, and lifts her hands towards a door on the edge of the bridge. "My office is this way."
She thinks about his question as she leads the way, and assuming that he is there when she gets to the room, there is a small office off the bridge that has a desk and chairs in front of said desk. There is a chess set, the stone pieces magnetically affixed by their bases to the board. The office is largely bare otherwise, save for paperwork drawers on the desk, and a photograph affixed there--Captain York herself, smiling next to a Zentradi man in a similar uniform.
"...Since you ask, it started with wanting to look after a friend of mine. Now I think I can prevent some bad things that shouldn't happen anymore."
"...But emotions do run high." She gestures to a chair and moves for her own, though she has a feeling he'll already be in... one of them. Hopefully not hers.
"I'm not that worried about 'enforcing my will' on people. I find that most people who want to shouldn't be given the chance."
<Pose Tracker> Alexis Kerib has posed.
Alexis does not want to tell Eight one way or the other what he knows or doesn't. He has a conclusion he'd like her to reach, an approach he wants her to take -- but she needs to find it herself. The strength they bring to bear against cosmic law relies on their ability to counter the premises it argues, and you have to understand the premises to make meaningful counterarguments.
So instead of doing any of that, he follows along to Eight's office. He takes a moment to shift his posture, and -- like a person -- he sits. Apparently there *is* a shape under that cloak, at least, and it's probably broady similar to a human's.
"A friend, you say," Alexis says, listening. "I see. Connections to others drawing you forward..." He makes a note to himself. It's hard for him to keep the disappointment fully out of his voice. "... and the hope to prevent the universe's cruelties."
He laughs. It's actually very pleasant! It's not cruel or anything. He seems genuinely entertained. "You style yourself a hero, then! Oh, that's truly lovely. Unfortunately, the inevitable has heroes too. You can't approach it as if it's a villain, with the hope of prevention... what you must become to face it on your terms, and not its, is a question you'll have to answer for yourself."
He cants his head slightly to one side, thinking for a moment. "Captain York. If faced with something that asserts an unchanging truth you find unpalatable to accept... how would you approach it, if you're disinterested in enforcing your will?"
<Pose Tracker> Eight York has posed.
Maybe she will reach it. Maybe she won't. She's still getting to figure him out. When he sits down in a chair that isn't hers, she is briefly appreciative of that much, coming around to her desk. She is able to respond to the first part easily enough.
"The same one you saw," she notes. Maybe in giving a little information, she can get a little more, too--it's a subtle dance, conversation, but one she's used to being good at. "Mm-hm." Hope.
"I wouldn't go that far," the Captain replies about heroism. "But it's preferable to the alternative. ...You're right, though. Everybody has their 'heroes', their beliefs. This inevitability of yours would, too, even not knowing anything about it."
"...Hrm," she says to his question, though. She actually takes a moment to think about it herself. "I guess you caught me in a contradiction," she admits. "I'm not 'worried' about exerting my will, but I'm not inclined to let everyone exert theirs on /me/, either. ...And I have responsibilities. So I guess if it came down to it... I'd have to exert my 'will' after all, even though I don't want to push people if I don't have to. That's my responsibility, as Captain; I have to be willing to do things I might find uncomfortable for the benefit of my crew."
"...But I think i take issue with your premise. It can 'present' an unchanging truth all it wants--but anything can change. I believe that."
<Pose Tracker> Alexis Kerib has posed.
There's a very faint downward tilt of Alexis's head as Eight answers. "Oh... I see." There's a hint of disappointment in Alexis's voice. "You've come quite far on your own, here," he says, though his tone is suddenly much less animated. He needs a long time to think over her answer. What type of person is she...?
He needs to know. After all -- the boundary between his pet project and everything else is getting so thin, and people are acting on it whether or not he wants them to. It's still an outside chance, but someone acting on the era, even so...
"Permit me to ask you another question, then?" Alexis asks, before taking a moment to consider his phrasing. There's something that gnaws at him that permeates this whole interaction... but... well. They can't all be Akane, he supposes. Even the ones so open in the way she is.
"If you find something you cannot change, will you allow yourself to break, or will you bend to accommodate it?"
<Pose Tracker> Eight York has posed.
Hmmm. Well, whether he likes her answer or not, it's her answer. She came a long way to find it. And apparently she has come far on her own, according to him? She's not sure what he knows about that. He doesn't /seem/ to know much more about her than she knows about him...
"Sure," Eight allows, since Alexis hasn't done worse than show up without notice, yet--hasn't done more than startle the crew that she can tell, doesn't seem inclined to violence while they're talking. But she has to calculate the possibility. So far... the calculation is favorable.
So she waits for his question, and the question comes. She considers it in turn. "...So. I already said I believe anything can change. That /hasn't/ changed." She folds her hands, leaning forward on the desk. "...But you aren't asking if 'it' can change. You're asking about if I find something /I/ can't change. Right?"
"...We bend every day, on little things and big things. People interweave together. So I don't mind bending a bit. I've already done that; a friend of mine got involved in the war, and I can't tell her just to go away. I have to adapt to the new circumstances. It's normal. It's fine. Some things 'we' can't change on our own, so we live with them."
She straightens, and puts her hands down, flat. "I expect I'll bend and shift more in the future, as I grow into who I need to be. But if you tell me there's something 'inevitable', that I can't protect the people I care about...That there's no hope."
"I won't be twisted again. /That/ I will shatter myself against if I have to, so that the next person to take up the fight can pick up my pieces and go farther than I could."
<Pose Tracker> Alexis Kerib has posed.
Alexis allows Eight to feel the full weight of his gaze. And for a split second, he allows her -- though he doesn't mean to -- to feel something more.
It's resentment. This answer fills him with anger -- no, not just anger. Disgust. Frustration. It's a swirling maelstrom of negative intent -- of total loathing for this answer, for her, for daring to give it, for daring to even think it.
It passes in an instant. He broadcasts nothing once again, and the teal panels of his impassive mask light up in another smile. "Well! If anyone can do it, it's you, I suppose," Alexis concedes, graciously. "I think you have an excellent attitude for a captain of a vessel. It is my sincere hope that the dawn doesn't swallow you, Captain."
He stands once again. He takes three steps to the side -- careful, measured -- and then begins to translate toward the door. "I'll avoid wasting your time further. I suspect you'll have a debriefing to perform, shortly -- unless your friend is already dead... but a hero rarely falls on her first outing. It has been a pleasure, Captain; do be careful with the nail hammered through your world's carpet, yes?"
He steps through a door.
He is gone, on the other side.
Alexis Kerib stands atop Tsutsujidai's sluice gate. He looks out toward his charge's home, standing like an obelisk.
"... I do hope her feelings are where they need to be."
<Pose Tracker> Eight York has posed.
Eight stares back at the strange 'being' before her. Her red eyes focus on him, and everything else in this moment falls away. She feels the /weight/ of that gaze, and the sheer loathing at play leaves her stock-still, still staring at him. She does not break under it; she holds firm, though the tension in her body suggests effort, the hardness in her jaw in the instant, this unexpected morass of Negativity requiring all of her will to withstand for that split-second.
And it's gone, and she resists the urge to sag with the effort that was like a fight.
He didn't like that. And now she knows she doesn't want what he seems to offer.
"Thank you," she says simply, and watches him go.
"...I believe in her."
That lingers on the air, and she more hopes than believes in that particular instant. She doesn't like the distinction much. A nail, hammered through the world's carpet...
Eight York stands up from her chari in an instant, swiftly walking across the office and back to the bridge, where the door slides open and she steps out with crisp steps.
"Miss Chovan," she says, in a commanding tone. "Get us to Nouvelle Tokyo."
She looks out over the bridge, where he appeared, and out to the sky beyond.
"...And," she says to another crewman sitting at a console, "Library time. Find me everything in our database on something called 'Triple Zero', 'Oath Over Omega,' and... Alexis Kerib."
There probably isn't anything. But Eight steps back to her chair, and sits down, a thundering cloud of intent swirling about her that Chovan can feel, and looks towards her for. "Captain...?"
Eight relaxes, intentionally, as much as she can. "...You don't have to worry," she says. "I just have a lot to think about."