"I wouldn't bother even trying. There was... an incident, way back when, where one of us non-Chosen was responsible for quite a few reprehensible deeds. Being the diplomatically-minded man that I am, I sought out local lawkeepers to see how he would be tried by the laws of the land." He smiles humourlessly at Jim. "And wouldn't you know it -- they wouldn't tell me a thing. They weren't interested in getting involved. They had no law system to show me. The only thing they've shown a willingness to do is try us."
He shrugs, looking less concerned about it than he is. He's learned to make his peace with it in some respects, just out of the desire to live a daily life without constantly going mad with disbelief, but he believes in telling their humble newcomers everything he knows. The more heads on the problem the better. Besides, the gods big and small know that Claude would have welcomed this information his first day here.
"All terribly grim, I'm afraid, and not nice to hear on your first day here!" He claps his hands, evidently intent on changing the subject. "Would you like me to show you to your temporary lodgings, Jim? And perhaps you can tell me a little more about yourself while you're at it. I put little stock in what's on that piece of paper, but plenty in a man's own words."
"So there are natives, aside from the Chosen." Jim's still parsing over all the new information, brow dipping into a furrow as he does so. The word 'Chosen' could have a number of meanings, but the religious imagery it brings to mind is a bit of a yellow flag. Nine times out of ten, a planet's bizarre behavior could be attributed to some kind of faith; there was nothing more irrational, or more motivating, to a population's societal pressures. "Do they have a police force, or are we Lord of the Flies-ing it?"
Jim is definitely grateful for the crash course; he tended to thrive in piss-poor situations, but not having to slog through tedious guesswork right at the start would give him a leg up on this particular problem.
"That would be great, thank you." Jim says, earnest; Claude didn't have to take time out of his day to help a panting stranger, and Jim's grateful for it. He follows his lead, whichever direction Claude chooses to go now that their meandering walk has a purpose.
As for what he can say about himself...well, therein lies a dilemma, for Jim. He's seen nothing to indicate this planet is warp-capable - though Claude said they might have come from different worlds, which adds a new layer of issue to his conundrum. For all his cavalier attitude sometimes, Jim didn't take violating the Prime Directive lightly.
After a beat, which hopefully looked like no more than gathering his thoughts, Jim settles on: "Well I'm an Aries, for starters; love long walks on the beach and a good game of chess."
That wasn't what Claude was asking for, but his light tone carries him through to the next. "No, in all seriousness, I'm captain of a ship, back home, a science vessel."
He doesn't want to say he's military, because he isn't, but peacekeeping armada is definitely a 24th century concept.
"I can't say I catch the reference, but from context alone, I can tell you pretty certainly that we're Lord of the Fliesing it," Claude says, pushing open the door of a quiet inn. Once they're inside, Jim will notice that unlike the bustling metropolis outside, this place has a far more rustic charm; there's a crackling fire in the corner (more for ambience than warmth; it's a nice enough day as it is), handmade wooden furniture, and an innkeeper and barkeep both dressed in rustic fabrics and old-time charm.
"They'll let you stay here for free for the first month. After that, you're on the hook for getting a job and figuring out your own lodgings, though if you're lucky, you can charm them into an extra month or so while you get your bearings, Mr. Long Walks On The Beach." A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Anyway. A science vessel sounds fascinating. What is it that you actually do there? Investigate marine life? I've been known to enjoy an aquatic excursion every now and then, but it's not the safest profession out there. That much I know."
"It's a book from home - bunch of boys crash land on an island and rip each other to pieces trying to create law and order themselves." Jim's explanation comes forth as second nature; he's used to explaining cultural differences in the same breath of any conversation; such is the nature of life aboard a starship, especially with the interspecies company he keeps.
The inn is old world, like something he'd see in a holo or a re-enactment festival; the kind of old world that predates him by quite a lot. Jim takes it in with undisguised interest - how can he not? It wasn't every day you got to experience something like this, at least not for him - though perhaps the novelty of the past would eventually lose its luster, should he be stuck here for any length of time.
"How long have you been here?" The idea of a long-term stay is not a particularly comforting thought, though Jim has no doubt he'd be able to find some way to pay his due; even if that way is card sharking at the poker game he can see going strong in the corner. He meets Claude's eye with a small smirk; cheekiness is a language he's well fluent in. "Oh, please, call me Jim."
"Our mission is exploratory; cataloging new life, performing analysis on any samples we might pick up." It's easy enough to skate around the fact that it's not a seafaring vessel, as Jim makes no mention of water. "To boldly go, where no man has gone before."
"Sometimes we go on supply runs, and deliver assistance or medical care where it's needed. Me, personally, I'm part of the command structure, so my concern is the health and safety of my crew; and I spend a decent amount of time down in engineering. It's fun, plus," Jim's eyes sparkle with mirth, and he shoots Claude a wink. "That's where the illegal still is. Engineers have all the fun."
"All right. Jim it is. You can call me Claude, of course, though I imagine you were going to do that anyway. Once you're settled in a bit better, I'd love to hear more about your expeditions -- to be able to travel for the sake of research sounds like a wonderful sort of life, and a liberty reserved for a precious few, I'd say. You must have more stories in a couple of months than most manage in a single year."
All progress has been halted in Claude's own home. With war ravaging the region, there's no room for progress, technological, scientific, or social, much to Claude's despair. The idea of being able to send out entire vessels filled with workers and scientists to work in tandem to explore the world and make new discoveries is an awfully tantalizing one, though not a journey Claude himself will be able to make. He has a country to run, after all.
"Speaking of which... it's not a good answer to your first question, but an answer nonetheless. I've been here for a little over a year now." Claude grimaces. "Which I hadn't expected, but I've yet to find my way home. None of us have found a single lead on how to manage that much."
"I'm sure we can find some time to trade war stories over a beer." Jim agrees, easily enough; he's sure he can come up with the kind of thing Claude is talking about, editing out the parts he can't reveal. "I wish I could tell you it was uneventful, to be honest."
Jim is aware that a peacekeeping armada is a 24th century concept; the centuries previous had been war-torn, devastatingly so. The Second Civil War, the Eugenics War - World War III on Earth had been the final straw, breaking the planet nearly beyond repair. Post-atomic horror had lasted well past 2079, leaving 30% of the Earth's population dead in its wake.
He's lucky he was born in 2233, far beyond all of that - though his time, too, came with its own issues. There was a reason peacekeeping needed an armada, after all.
"A year?" Jim can't mask his shock at that; clearly, it's not the answer he was hoping for. He gives a low whistle, shaking his head. "Well. Shit."
Not exactly promising. Then again, he's the posterboy for no win scenarios; he's not easily discouraged, at least. "Where's home, if you don't mind my asking?"
"A continent called Fodlan. I doubt that you've heard of it -- the only other person around here who has is someone I know personally." He props his elbow on the table, resting his chin in his hand. He's gotten more than accustomed to how odd others seem to find his background, never mind how much odder he finds theirs in return. He never minds oddities, after all; the biggest benefit to being stuck here for so long is that it's provided the benefit of education, learning about the way things could be, the way things were, lessons that he can take back to his home with him if he can ever get that far.
All progress takes a little theft. He's made his peace with that, though he certainly hasn't made peace with the length of his imprisonment. He can't say Jim's shock doesn't sting, but only because he knows he should have found a way out by now.
"I'm from a world far more low-tech than this one, and from the ones most people here are from. This whole... contact with other planets thing isn't something we've managed yet," he says with a crooked smile. "I was yanked out here in the middle of a war. I'm eager to get back. Suffice to say, I've been doing my best to find a way to do just that, but I've hit nothing but dead ends."
"Hm, you're right, it's unfamiliar to me." Not that Jim was wholly ruling it out as having existed in his world; there are plenty of places the Federation has not yet reached, out there in distant galaxies. There might be more first contact happening here than Jim had previously anticipated - it's all so muddled, it's hard to tell. "Someone came here with you?"
So maybe his crew is here somewhere. Maybe not the entire crew, unless they were being kept somewhere - but it would be hide the release of 400+ captives into this strange city environment. Still - perhaps someone from his Bridge crew had made it here?
"Sorry," Jim offers a small smile back, shaking his head. "No it's just - tech or not, people tend to have slip ups. Our kidnappers, I mean, just as prone to human error as anyone else. You seem the type of man to be able to exploit a tactical advantage like that. To hear there hasn't been one..."
He doesn't need to finish that sentence, the unease evident. A year is not ideal, by any stretch of the imagination. "A war? How long have you been fighting?"
"Yes. A friend of mine -- Marianne, a healer. If you get hurt, you'll find no better to heal your wounds." He's leaving quite a bit out - namely the fact that they do not know each other after all, that they're form entirely different universes and remember an entirely different set of events - but that's not the important part anyhow. He thinks to tell him to be kind to her, should they ever meet, but even if her timidity is readily apparent, it feels like giving too much away. He leaves it be.
Beyond that, he can appreciate the vote of confidence, though he makes no attempt at humility; he is the sort of person to exploit an advantage when he sees one, and he's not yet found a situation he can't somehow worm his way out of. To be stuck here for so long isn't just worrisome, isn't just maddening. It's downright embarrassing. As glad as he'd be if the likes of the good Captain can find a way out where he hadn't, he'll be absolutely mortified he wasn't able to think of it first.
"Around two and a half years. Three and a half, if you count my time here. To say I was fighting isn't exactly accurate, either. My land was caught in between the countries at war, and my job was to keep us safe." He shakes his head. "All I can do is trust that others took over where I left off. Point being, the powers that be around here have no regard for what our absence will do to our homes. At least if we were properly arrested, we'd be able to make some form of arrangements."
"I'll have to keep her in mind." A doctor, or something akin to it, was never a bad thing to have in your back pocket. Especially for someone like Jim, with the number of allergies he had - shit, they probably didn't have allergen hypos around here. He should probably look into some other, more primitive option; Jim makes a note of it for later.
Like recognizes like. Jim, too, would likely become frustrated if time passed as Claude indicated it would, and nothing came of it. Pinning men like them down was no easy feat, and the thought is...definitely troublesome, to say the least. Jim's barely been here a few hours, but it's...not looking good, insofar as he can tell.
But he quiets those nerves, those unanswerable questions, and nods thoughtfully at Claude's explanation. Plucked from their homes - what could do that? Transwarp beaming, perhaps, but Starfleet had put a lockdown on Scotty's equation as soon as they'd been able to. Unless it leaked somehow, or was discovered independently...
"I'm sorry they did that to you. It's difficult to leave a fight unfinished." Especially when Claude had no say in it. Jim claps his shoulder companionably. "These guys sound like a real piece of work. And their so-called justice is a complete farce, as far as I'm concerned."
Claude's grin is a little rueful, but it's a bright expression anyway, an easy, well-practiced expression no matter the circumstances. It is not a great trial to smile now, after all; as grim as their discussion may be, he's well used to it by now. He may not have made his peace with it - that reeks of a sort of complacency that he's loath to sink into - but he's at least grown accustomed enough to his situation to not go around feeling morose about it every moment of every day. He's a big proponent of joy, even underneath the worst circumstances. Nobody has the spirit to fight if they're busy feeling dreary all the time.
"It's all right. Well, it's very much not all right, but we deal with the situations we're in, hm? There's no need for you to be sorry when you're right here in the shit with me." Which isn't reassuring, he supposes, but Jim's a big boy. He can handle it. "But the whole thing is a farce, I'll tell you that much. I'm happy to give you the run-down on everything you oughtta know, but maybe first you should get set up in a room, get your affairs in order. I know you'll be raring to get out there and try your hand at solving all this, but you oughtta get your basics taken care of first. A change of clothes, a toothbrush, maybe a job -- they'll take care of your for the first month, but I'd hate to see a professional man such as yourself begging on the streets."
"That we do," The glimmer in Jim's eye is enough to intuit just what his version of dealing with the situation might entail; the brightness of a Captain, determination settling over his shoulders like a well-worn cloak, despite whatever doubts may linger. He's seen worse odds a thousand times over. Their first mistake was letting him roam free. There'd be another one, in time.
"You're definitely right; this uniform smells a bit like fish, now. Thanks, Claude, for everything." Jim offers his hand to shake once again, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth at the mention of the basics, including money. "Oh, I'm a jack of all trades type. I'll find a way to earn my keep."
Whether it's the most morally conscionable choice, well, that's another matter entirely. Who doesn't like fleecing poker? "I owe you that drink, some time."
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expiationlogs2024-04-14 10:44 pm
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He shrugs, looking less concerned about it than he is. He's learned to make his peace with it in some respects, just out of the desire to live a daily life without constantly going mad with disbelief, but he believes in telling their humble newcomers everything he knows. The more heads on the problem the better. Besides, the gods big and small know that Claude would have welcomed this information his first day here.
"All terribly grim, I'm afraid, and not nice to hear on your first day here!" He claps his hands, evidently intent on changing the subject. "Would you like me to show you to your temporary lodgings, Jim? And perhaps you can tell me a little more about yourself while you're at it. I put little stock in what's on that piece of paper, but plenty in a man's own words."
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Jim is definitely grateful for the crash course; he tended to thrive in piss-poor situations, but not having to slog through tedious guesswork right at the start would give him a leg up on this particular problem.
"That would be great, thank you." Jim says, earnest; Claude didn't have to take time out of his day to help a panting stranger, and Jim's grateful for it. He follows his lead, whichever direction Claude chooses to go now that their meandering walk has a purpose.
As for what he can say about himself...well, therein lies a dilemma, for Jim. He's seen nothing to indicate this planet is warp-capable - though Claude said they might have come from different worlds, which adds a new layer of issue to his conundrum. For all his cavalier attitude sometimes, Jim didn't take violating the Prime Directive lightly.
After a beat, which hopefully looked like no more than gathering his thoughts, Jim settles on: "Well I'm an Aries, for starters; love long walks on the beach and a good game of chess."
That wasn't what Claude was asking for, but his light tone carries him through to the next. "No, in all seriousness, I'm captain of a ship, back home, a science vessel."
He doesn't want to say he's military, because he isn't, but peacekeeping armada is definitely a 24th century concept.
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"They'll let you stay here for free for the first month. After that, you're on the hook for getting a job and figuring out your own lodgings, though if you're lucky, you can charm them into an extra month or so while you get your bearings, Mr. Long Walks On The Beach." A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Anyway. A science vessel sounds fascinating. What is it that you actually do there? Investigate marine life? I've been known to enjoy an aquatic excursion every now and then, but it's not the safest profession out there. That much I know."
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The inn is old world, like something he'd see in a holo or a re-enactment festival; the kind of old world that predates him by quite a lot. Jim takes it in with undisguised interest - how can he not? It wasn't every day you got to experience something like this, at least not for him - though perhaps the novelty of the past would eventually lose its luster, should he be stuck here for any length of time.
"How long have you been here?" The idea of a long-term stay is not a particularly comforting thought, though Jim has no doubt he'd be able to find some way to pay his due; even if that way is card sharking at the poker game he can see going strong in the corner. He meets Claude's eye with a small smirk; cheekiness is a language he's well fluent in. "Oh, please, call me Jim."
"Our mission is exploratory; cataloging new life, performing analysis on any samples we might pick up." It's easy enough to skate around the fact that it's not a seafaring vessel, as Jim makes no mention of water. "To boldly go, where no man has gone before."
"Sometimes we go on supply runs, and deliver assistance or medical care where it's needed. Me, personally, I'm part of the command structure, so my concern is the health and safety of my crew; and I spend a decent amount of time down in engineering. It's fun, plus," Jim's eyes sparkle with mirth, and he shoots Claude a wink. "That's where the illegal still is. Engineers have all the fun."
no subject
All progress has been halted in Claude's own home. With war ravaging the region, there's no room for progress, technological, scientific, or social, much to Claude's despair. The idea of being able to send out entire vessels filled with workers and scientists to work in tandem to explore the world and make new discoveries is an awfully tantalizing one, though not a journey Claude himself will be able to make. He has a country to run, after all.
"Speaking of which... it's not a good answer to your first question, but an answer nonetheless. I've been here for a little over a year now." Claude grimaces. "Which I hadn't expected, but I've yet to find my way home. None of us have found a single lead on how to manage that much."
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Jim is aware that a peacekeeping armada is a 24th century concept; the centuries previous had been war-torn, devastatingly so. The Second Civil War, the Eugenics War - World War III on Earth had been the final straw, breaking the planet nearly beyond repair. Post-atomic horror had lasted well past 2079, leaving 30% of the Earth's population dead in its wake.
He's lucky he was born in 2233, far beyond all of that - though his time, too, came with its own issues. There was a reason peacekeeping needed an armada, after all.
"A year?" Jim can't mask his shock at that; clearly, it's not the answer he was hoping for. He gives a low whistle, shaking his head. "Well. Shit."
Not exactly promising. Then again, he's the posterboy for no win scenarios; he's not easily discouraged, at least. "Where's home, if you don't mind my asking?"
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All progress takes a little theft. He's made his peace with that, though he certainly hasn't made peace with the length of his imprisonment. He can't say Jim's shock doesn't sting, but only because he knows he should have found a way out by now.
"I'm from a world far more low-tech than this one, and from the ones most people here are from. This whole... contact with other planets thing isn't something we've managed yet," he says with a crooked smile. "I was yanked out here in the middle of a war. I'm eager to get back. Suffice to say, I've been doing my best to find a way to do just that, but I've hit nothing but dead ends."
no subject
So maybe his crew is here somewhere. Maybe not the entire crew, unless they were being kept somewhere - but it would be hide the release of 400+ captives into this strange city environment. Still - perhaps someone from his Bridge crew had made it here?
"Sorry," Jim offers a small smile back, shaking his head. "No it's just - tech or not, people tend to have slip ups. Our kidnappers, I mean, just as prone to human error as anyone else. You seem the type of man to be able to exploit a tactical advantage like that. To hear there hasn't been one..."
He doesn't need to finish that sentence, the unease evident. A year is not ideal, by any stretch of the imagination. "A war? How long have you been fighting?"
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Beyond that, he can appreciate the vote of confidence, though he makes no attempt at humility; he is the sort of person to exploit an advantage when he sees one, and he's not yet found a situation he can't somehow worm his way out of. To be stuck here for so long isn't just worrisome, isn't just maddening. It's downright embarrassing. As glad as he'd be if the likes of the good Captain can find a way out where he hadn't, he'll be absolutely mortified he wasn't able to think of it first.
"Around two and a half years. Three and a half, if you count my time here. To say I was fighting isn't exactly accurate, either. My land was caught in between the countries at war, and my job was to keep us safe." He shakes his head. "All I can do is trust that others took over where I left off. Point being, the powers that be around here have no regard for what our absence will do to our homes. At least if we were properly arrested, we'd be able to make some form of arrangements."
no subject
Like recognizes like. Jim, too, would likely become frustrated if time passed as Claude indicated it would, and nothing came of it. Pinning men like them down was no easy feat, and the thought is...definitely troublesome, to say the least. Jim's barely been here a few hours, but it's...not looking good, insofar as he can tell.
But he quiets those nerves, those unanswerable questions, and nods thoughtfully at Claude's explanation. Plucked from their homes - what could do that? Transwarp beaming, perhaps, but Starfleet had put a lockdown on Scotty's equation as soon as they'd been able to. Unless it leaked somehow, or was discovered independently...
"I'm sorry they did that to you. It's difficult to leave a fight unfinished." Especially when Claude had no say in it. Jim claps his shoulder companionably. "These guys sound like a real piece of work. And their so-called justice is a complete farce, as far as I'm concerned."
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"It's all right. Well, it's very much not all right, but we deal with the situations we're in, hm? There's no need for you to be sorry when you're right here in the shit with me." Which isn't reassuring, he supposes, but Jim's a big boy. He can handle it. "But the whole thing is a farce, I'll tell you that much. I'm happy to give you the run-down on everything you oughtta know, but maybe first you should get set up in a room, get your affairs in order. I know you'll be raring to get out there and try your hand at solving all this, but you oughtta get your basics taken care of first. A change of clothes, a toothbrush, maybe a job -- they'll take care of your for the first month, but I'd hate to see a professional man such as yourself begging on the streets."
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"You're definitely right; this uniform smells a bit like fish, now. Thanks, Claude, for everything." Jim offers his hand to shake once again, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth at the mention of the basics, including money. "Oh, I'm a jack of all trades type. I'll find a way to earn my keep."
Whether it's the most morally conscionable choice, well, that's another matter entirely. Who doesn't like fleecing poker? "I owe you that drink, some time."