2024-06-03: From Sweetwater
- Log: From Sweetwater
- Cast: Eight Orlodhari, Shelby Korts
- Where: MDF HQ, Magallanica
- OOC - IC Date: June 06, 2024 (June 0099)
- Summary: Shelby Korts has some importnt business to discuss with Admiral Orlodhari--and they end up talking about some important secrets, too.
<Pose Tracker> Eight Orlodhari has posed.
It is not hard to reach the MDF office on Magallanica; it's a public building, after all, and while there is security, Eight's leadership approach is welcoming. Appointments make things faster, but she's willing to see the right people, or the people who say the right things, even without.
Her office is nice. There's real wood in the desk! ...Not a lot, but it's there. The walls are decorated; a hockey stick hung up in front of an old jersey is in one place, and a model of a Clop-class ship (labelled 'Ra Mari') in gold on a shelf. There is a terminal on her desk, but also a number of photographs. Rena is here; Lavhi and the kids are also there.
But at the moment Eight is reviewing a tablet with more reports.
In the next room there are a few minds; Eight's assistant, watching the twins nap. And Eight is thinking... mostly about the information on the tablet. Mostly.
She does want to put down the work and go to the other room, though.
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
The unconscious mind is a strange one; subconscious thoughts, inner monologues, blurs of images and random thoughts or dreams-- all of it kind of making a bit of Noise, but through an empathic's filter it creates a surreal sort of mind-mural of sound and color and light and raw thought. Overall, it's not too bad here-- people are focused and have jobs to do; the sounds and stray thoughts muddle into the haze instead of roar in her ear like she's standing in the pit during a concert.
Shelby Korts is not the usual sort of appointment; a young woman that's been here before under much different circumstances-- heading to residential blocks rather than offices. She isn't wearing a uniform, but a slightly heavier jacket with stylishly baggy sleeves rolled to mid-forearm and a high, snap-closed collar and glossy, patterned black-and-gray leggings with some rather cushy running sneakers-- elements of this look far newer than normal. Her hair's tied back in a high ponytail, with strands of fiery red poking out from under a weathered baseball cap -- though the ponytail threaded through the cap's strap is a shock of bright pink.
The newtype's arrival is heralded in three parts: The extrasensory pressure of a newtype, the buzz of a notice that Eight's appointment is here, and not long after the rap of knuckles against the door of the office. Waiting briefly, Shelby clicks the office door open and sticks her head inside, bespectacled and blinking owlishly.
"Hey." Small grin. "Nice office."
<Pose Tracker> Eight Orlodhari has posed.
Eight is not so 'loud' as she once was, when it comes to her own feelings, but she still makes for a significant Presence. Her twins are entirely different, especially while asleep. But they're over there! Right here...
Pressure. Eight looks up from her tablet as she feelsShelby's presence, and then as the receptionist buzzes her. By the time of the rap of knuckles, she's already looking at the door.
"Shelby," she says warmly. "Thanks. Being on an upper floor like this is a little like being on a ship. It's comfortable that way."
In front of her desk there are a couple of chairs; Eight gestures to one. "Make yourself comfortable," she invites.
Eight is in a uniform, because she's on duty. Her Admiral's jacket is crisp. Her shoes are HIDDEN UNDER THE DESK.
"It's nice to see you. How was the trip over?"
Small talk, sure. And that's mostly on her mind, too. But Eight cannot entirely suppress her curiousity at what brinngs Shelby to see her, either.
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
First clicking a couple of the snaps open at the collar of the jacket, then taking off the cap and setting it on the back of a chair, Shelby starts to sit-- though she glances at the hockey stick with brief appreciation before sitting down. "Boring, thankfully. Mostly. There was someone on the shuttle, they. Urh. Their head was like." Her hand lifts a little, wheeling fingers around. "Like, um. Like listening to a bunch of angry bees."
Her attention lifts, glancing to the adjacent room and swinging her gaze to Eight next, then giving a bit of a lofty grin while peering back in the direction of where the twins are at rest. "Huh. That's still neat."
Maybe she senses it -- the matter at hand? It's hard for people like them to keep their cards too close to their chests, especially with the worry that gnaws away at the young woman with the two-toned hair. Adjusting her glasses, she tries to sit more straight, in a slightly more professional manner -- but that just isn't her style. "Listen, so. ... The reason I came..."
"After the Shuffles... after, you know. ... all of that. When it fell down, and everything got all... we kind of retreated. Had to stay close to home. When some of our allies got attacked, so did we. So we kind of closed ranks and everyone ... I-It took me awhile to be able to even get on a transport. Not like. Mnh. It's not like my IDs were bad. We're just worried."
"We're kinna living in neutral space. Feds used to patrol a lot, especially after the Shock, but things kind of ... they don't come out to Side 4 unless it's benefitting them. O-or, they're rounding people up. To drop on our colony's doorstep. With NUNE and ... there's a lot we're nervous about. Shuffles gave us some under-the-table support. Sayla Mass gave us some public support. B-Basically, um."
Shelby struggles to form the words for a moment, eyes closing.
"Our little group can't protect home by ourselves. And we're not, like. ... We're not an offical, like. Law or authority or whatever. A-And it's hard enough keeping some of our more ... um. Questionable operations quiet." A flickering feeling resides in Shelby -- a flash of colors and light and very specific sparkles from a technology that may as well be a target on someone's back.
"We need some help and none of our group right now really. Um. Trust... like, NUNE-slash-SAL."
<Pose Tracker> Eight Orlodhari has posed.
"That's no good," Eight says of the buzzing. She knows bad presences, though not so strongly as Shelby of course. But Shelby does touch on one of her favorite subjects, as she glances to the adjacent room. Eight smiles back. "I agree," she says. "Very neat."
Eight is very proud-happy-loving of the twins.
Eight is fine with proceeding to business. The reason she came...
"Right," Eight remembers of the Shuffles. "The attack, all over... It would be natural to be worried, after a coordinated attack like that."
Neutral space. Eight listens. She knows about how the Federation would do that, with people.
"We're worried about NUNE and SAL too," Eight says. Questionable opertions... Well, Eight will address those in a moment. "These days, SAL is mostly dumping people on our doorstep. My intel suggests that they're hoping to overwhelm us with people. ...Unfortunately for them, we're glad to help more people. If we apply our resources right, we can even keep doing it."
And of course, that means Shelby asking for more resources....
Nevertheless, "But us neutral colonies should stick together, especially when SAL won't like it," she says wryly. "I'll need to discuss the details with our other leaders--Mineva, especially--but I don't foresee a problem. Terminal," she thinks of an intelligence network, a secret organization, tht Shelby probably knows about after time in this building if she didn't before, "Can help you under the table, while Magallanica can probably send some open support."
She looks at Shelby, and thinks very deliberately, 'But any illegal Psychoframe needs to stay secret if I don't want Cathedra breathing down our necks.'
She resumes speaking aloud after that, "Keeping things quiet is something we're good at, though. ...Like I said; we don't trust NUNE or SAL either, or we'd have accepted their overtures. Time will tell if we're just being paranoid."
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
She's slouching forward as the Admiral replies, elbows coming to rest on her knees. Eight describing the situation -- especially just dumping people off, treating it as Someone Else's Problem -- leads to Shelby letting out a bit of a harsh 'tsk' out the corner of her mouth. However, it's good that she can get this much told her out the gate; there's no deception, there's directness and honesty, and... most importantly, they're willing to help: On and off the books.
"That'll help a lot," the young woman says, nodding. Shelby's thumb digs into her bare palm in an absent gesture, fingers flexing in and out in an idle gesture. "We're a bit overcrowded in Sweetwater. B-... But I bet we can find some way to help if anyone shipped out here ends up in Side 4."
Terminal-- a word that crossed her mind a few times, until it was increasingly clear that it was not in reference to one of those old junker computers not unlike her own work machine.
The direct, straightforward thought is heard as though Eight were speaking it aloud, and Shelby does not react, instead she goes on an unironic, honest face journey of,
I Don't Know What You Could Mean
Hey That's Crazy Talk We'd Never Do That
Okay We Have Some Machines Like Mine With It
Please Don't Suddenly Be Able to Read Minds Like Me
and then the nod of
Okay, That's Fair.
"A-And if you need me. ... For, anything, um. You know. Out there. That's... obviously part of it. We'll help, too, h-however we can."
<Pose Tracker> Eight Orlodhari has posed.
Eight has seen Shelby help; she has a feel for her. She is willing to extend her trust... and if she weren't, well, the fact that she likes her kids hellps.
"Good," the Admiral answers. Overcrowded... "Well, we have facilities if we can maintain enough food to feed everyone; the colony builder sees to that. So I can't guarantee we can find a place for people who have nowhere else to go immediately, but I'll make it a priority."
Terminal. And, of course--
Eight laughs a little. "Don't worry," she says. About what? It's fine. She can't read minds like Shelby.
"I'd appreciate your assistance. ...Why don't I tell you what we do, besides defend Magallanica? You've picked up a little, I'm sure, but even so."
"...We've established an organization called Terminal. Much like the 3SA, we'd prefer peace in the Earth Sphere--but we also exist as a check on the potential excesses of NUNE. Human rights matters, largely--but also basic relief efforts. So you see, helping Sweetwater is exactly in our remit."
"I'm aware of the organization you used to be part of; if you're willing to lend us your strength, we could use both intelligence operatives and pilots. ...But let me be clear."
"Helping Sweetwater isn't contingent upon you fighting for us. It's just something I would appreciate."
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
A lot of weight is taken off her shoulders in these last few moments; she shifts again, butt scooting back in the chair and trying to look more attentive and serious, even in dealing with the chaotic thoughts swirling in her head. It wasn't so much that she was worried about being attacked or betrayed, but just that she wouldn't be able to get the agreement. She's just a single person, even if part of a small team; getting this amount of trust makes her radiate an amount of relief.
Through Eight's overview of Terminal, the mission statement of helping others and human rights? That... is something Shelby absolutely can get behind. She nods along, hands folding on her lap, holding any urge to ask questions or fully react-- focusing enough that not even the Noise is strong enough to crush her attention away (at least for now).
And then, she nods, strands of red-pink shifting across her shoulder. "I. That's ... Thanks, Eight. Really. Sorry I'm ... I'm probably not the. Like. Leadership type you probably... would have rather talked to."
<Pose Tracker> Eight Orlodhari has posed.
Eight is glad to help, frankly; she can sense Shelby's tension even if she can't read her mind, through that intangible pressure on her own. What she knew of the Shuffles helps... But she means it when she says she would want to help them regardless.
There are things that would be plenty wise and reasonable to ask questions about--but when Shelby doesn't at first, Eight smiless at what she says instead, her own blonde hair still hanging loose at her back, her red eyes focused.
"You're welcome," she says. "...I talk with stuffed-shirt leaders all the time," she says. "I think I've turned into one," she admits with a wry look. "I don't mind talking to you. It's nice to see you, even. If you have time when we're done, i'm sure the twins would love to, too."
"...But there are things you'll want to be aware of, of course; I'll get you some information on all tht, so you can make an informed decision, instead of only based on our ideals."
She looks sympathetic, "It must have been hard, when the Shuffle Alliance collapsed. We do have a few of your former allies with us; I'll put you back in touch, if you want."
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
"Really? Ah-- yeah, I have some time for that. I mean, I... I try not to ... book flights tight. Just in case something." Her hand lifts, tilting back and forth. Fights break out? Someone gets curious about round trips? Her alias IDs having problems? ... Really awesome food she has to check out? "Something happens."
"I figured, the. Um. I try to keep my nose out of a lot of. You know. It. The politics, directly. B-But, I, er-- yeah. Yeah! It'll be good to have when I get back home. My mechanic will probably be drilling me for it, ha."
Shelby's eyes drift down. "Yeah. It's... we lost contact. And friends, and ... comms between Sides and Earth sometimes takes a bit. The distance delay, even with relays, is..." She looks up again, nodding. "I'd appreciate that."
Scarred fingers lift a little. "And for what it's worth you are like the least stuffed shirt I ever dealt with."
<Pose Tracker> Eight Orlodhari has posed.
Hmmm. Something...
"Well, that's fair," Eight says. "Things do happen." She's a little baffled, but assumes that Shelby's life is just... like that. She seems to get into a lot of Situations. Besides, "Then that sounds good."
Politics. "Fair," Eight says. "It's... a lot of trouble, politics. But someone has to do it." Ah, well. Mechanic, though. That's interesting.
They lost contact... "Then it'll be done," Eight says. "I'm glad to put friends back in touch. It's one of the perks of this position."
She laughs at the reply. "I'm happy to hear that," Eight says. "Sometimes, between having two kids and having a position like this, I feel like I got old before I'm even old..."
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
If things are working right, you never see Shelby at all! Except things just don't shake out that way, do they... For what it is worth, the newtype does not seem bothered by the idea, even in the face of Eight's confusion-- her version of normal is just a little Weird.
"Thanks. Is Rena doing okay, too? It's been awhile. I haven't seen her since... whoof. That feels like it was forever ago already."
Shelby's weird. And weird's okay.
"Oh stop it," the pilot adds, hand swiping down in the air. "You're old when you start playing--" she twists in the chair to look back at the hockey stick, then back at Eight. "That's not golf, right? You would be old if you did that." She's struggling to keep the smirk off her face but it just isn't happening with the slight snicker pushing through tightly-pressed lips.
<Pose Tracker> Eight Orlodhari has posed.
Eight has a certain variety of normal herself. She's gotten used to it.
"She is!" Eight enthuses, because Rena is another of her favorite subjects. "She's still in Orb with Annie, when she's not working. I'm sure she'd love to see you."
It's a good kind of weird, too.
But she laughs, at Shelby's response. "Okay, okay," she says, holding up her hands. "I don't do golf, at least." A beat, "It's hockey! You get on skates and run around on the ice, hitting a puck!" A pause. "And each other. You're not supposed to, but you do anyway. That part is important."
"It was pretty popular in Winter Wonderland," she says. "Ice sports in general are, and I never had the patience for the pretty stuff."
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
"I'm glad. It's just been so ... fwwweh. T-Things. But... I'd love to if things line up. This is the longest I've been away from Sweetwater in ... awhile, really, outside of some small trips. Even then I'm usually back in a day if I can help it."
Shelby laughs a little-- not just the joke she made, but that Eight responded positively. "Hockey, right. Sorry. I only started doing baseball, er. Um. A couple years ago. Just batting cages. Place near my apartment... kind of. I'm still not good at the sports yet." 'The sports,' practically pronounced with proper capitalization and unironic gravitas.
"That sounds pretty wild. I should look it up sometime. ... Your kids too? Like. Teach them how to hit with that stick?" she asks, her hands extending like she's swinging a bat. (She'll get it eventually.)
<Pose Tracker> Eight Orlodhari has posed.
"I'll at least give you her latest contact information and let her know you're asking after her," Eight says. Hasn't been away in a while... Eight remembers; Shelby might get a flash of memory to early in the twins' lives, when Eight barely got out of her apartment taking care of them.
"I should visit," she decides. "That would be nice."
Then she smiles back. "It's fine. I like baseball, too." Batting cages... Hmm. "Those can be great for just, getting some energy out, right? You'll get there if you want to." 'the sports'. Eight manages not to laugh at Shelby, but she does grin a little wider.
"I'd like them to! It depends on whether they show much interest in sports, of course. ...I'd worry they might get hurt, but..."
Sigh. "Apparently, and this was confirmed by Lavnadim's parents, I should let them roughhouse a little more. It's supposedly good for their harder bones as compared to humans."
Then Eight goes, and mimes with a hockey stick, "You hold it down, by the way. The 'puck' is on the ice instead of up there. Lots of safety gear, too."
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
"Thanks, really."
"It is, though! Like, I was shown them one night 'cause I had a lot of ... well, stuff happened. A-And I had to... I wasn't sure what to... s-so my friend, she shows me to this place. Dragged me along. And it was cool. Lots of games were broken but the cages worked. So I learned how to hit there. Not sure about the rest of the game, though. There really isn't. Um. You know. Teams, and. Like. The ... l...League? Yeah, league. Stuff like that."
"Oh, 'cause-- yeah, that makes sense. 'Cause space life needs the, um. The exercise, too, right? Like for bone density and stuff. Learned about that when I moved out to Sweetwater."
Shelby shifts in the seat, elbow at rest on the arm of her chair and staring at the hockey stick as her chin settles on the heel of her hand."Oh, really? That's... I see."
And she just stares at it, like she's trying to figure out how to do it in her head. She might have to go watch a couple of videos later.
Twisting in the chair to face Eight again, still not quite sitting correctly, she looks far less formal than before-- and much more relaxed in the face of everything. "Well. I think we got everything. ... I-I mean past the. Um. Well, paperwork, sort of. Not that we want to, like. Have a lot of that going back and forth, I mean."
<Pose Tracker> Eight Orlodhari has posed.
"Sounds like a good friend to have." She smiles. "Hmmm. That's fair. There's not a lot of... space, for sprawling games like that, huh? 'League' is the word."
"Yes," Eight says. "That's also true. There's a lot of things that are different with half-Zentradi. But it's all new to me, anyway."
But Eight can see Shelby's expression. She might include a couple of hockey videos in the 'paperwork'.
Eight can sit in chairs properly, but only because she's military.
"I think so. Right--so, there'll be some things that are vague, some things that are encrypted, and an invitation to talk with us later."
"But in the meantime, that does mean wwe're done wwith business. ...Care to visit?" With the twins, that is. "Their naptime is about over. It would be a nice surprise."
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
<poem>
The complex image in her mind involves Shelby wearing a lot of safety gear (though the type is debatable) and holding the stick like a baseball bat, but swinging down at a baseball. There might be a wind-up and a grunt. Maybe even the puck being shot from some kind of pitcher machine like at the cages? This is going to end up being like some kind of homework-- she'll be surprised when she checks over files on the flight home, that's for sure.
"I see. That's. Huh. I never thought of that. I-- Oh. Yeah, -- yeah. Sorry, my mind was. ... Busy."
That's a choice of words, isn't it, Caedra?
She must puzzle this harder later.
"I'll run it through one of our team and make sure our encryption lines up, too, I'm... I'm not that good at that stuff, anyway," she admits sheepishly.
C-Care to visit?! Shelby gives a brief, beaming nod, strands of firey red and hot pink shifting a bit. "Sure. That sounds good."