oo1. closed ✯✯✯ All the remains of a cadaver of days

[carnem]

CHARACTERS ▶ Crew of the Atalanta and an increasingly problematic ensemble of NPCs
LOCATION ▶ The Atalanta, and eventually the Matrix
SUMMARY ▶ Orion is sending the team out on a mission that's only moderate risk but with stakes of untold height.
WARNINGS ▶ Up to R for violence, for sex related to space dragons there's probably a website for that
NOTES ▶ Modplot-related assignment

[Orion is an unexpected addition within the hull of the Atalanta. He'd accosted Jomi on the catwalks up, asked for permission to board, wiggling his small, cube-shaped data storage unit with a casual kind of importance. The off-handedness of it made it seem more important.

Now that he is onboard, the young Council aide looks immediately comfortable, at home, without any of the presumptuousness that the phrase, 'making himself at home' might imply. He crawls around on the floor just like one of the guys in order to plug in the data box, then calls up the feed to the screen with an undemonstrative kind of proficiency. Sits on a box beside the Captain's chair with a comfortable slouch, but leaning forward. Intent. Beyond him, the docking area is bustling with activity, but at a quiet remove.]

This is your mark, as transcribed by an operator the last time the Zion Defense Grid confronted him.

[He hits the holo-feed, and artificial light flows geometry into the air. Immediately, the code-savvy among them will recognize the AI running through the Matrix. Something strange about the way it's written, the language, the scripting, not merely alien the way that Machine-scripted sentience is, but archaic.] A handful of AIs we've surveilled have referred to him as the Scribe, but information is limited. And he's been-- slippery.

[There's a wrinkle in the code transcription. A child window splits away from the green-on-black Matrix feed, showing a stuttery video translation:

The Scribe's distorted figure bolts ahead of two operatives, the gap closing. The next instant, he dissipates into the flat, stone bulk of a wall. Videographical artefacts and static scatter arrhythmically across the video window, which might lead the audience to question if it was just an error of rendering. However, the next instant, the two humans skid to a stop in front of the wall, and exchange looks.

Orion raises an eyebrow, turning toward the crew. There are relevant and necessary details he's prepared to lay down, but he expects they have questions that will give his answers a particular bent.]

Comments

[alsohawkeye]

Don't think I won't fire you.

[ Kate's retort is quick and comes with a sideways look of amused reproach. And maybe just a hint of embarrassment across her cheeks there is a government person here Jomi god. ]

[milagros]

( milagros is less obtrusive than thor's muscles or rocket's mouth, albeit not exactly a wallflower, the precision of her posture less military than it is aristocratic, with the relaxed arrogance of someone whose competence tends to, aggravatingly, keep pace with her ego. she's content for the time being to largely observe, but she does feel compelled to inquire, dryly, )

And how many of the questions we ask are we about to be told it's our job to get answers to?

[alsohawkeye]

[ Maybe they should stop piling on and let Orion actually respond, but Kate takes advantage of the pause after Mila's especially dry query to tag back in and add one more before the Council rep has a chance to get his mouth going. It is an important one, after all. ]

And where is it we're going?

[carnem]

He runs because he's being chased. By a number of parties. There's us, but a few AIs-- independents, as far as we can tell, who have a problem with something as old as he is moving around their territory.

[Orion is probably accustomed to receiving a lot of questions at once, doesn't seem to have difficulty tracking what came from whom. His dark eyes stay on Thor for a moment, and there's an intimation of a crinkle around the edges, a near-smile, like the one he'd had for Rocket. There's nothing hostile about it, but the calculating quality to it doubtlessly isn't the most reassuring to everyone who finds themself in its path.]

His skills include hand-to-hand combat, firearms, and athleticism. Not at Agent-level proficiency, but he'd be a match for some of our more seasoned operatives one-on-one. He can pass through anything we've encountered. Concrete, water, glass, electrical fields, lasers. [He waves his hand around an etc., etc. pattern, glancing past Jomi and Kate as if he didn't notice their little exchange (OF COURSE HE NOTIced).] But some of our most talented programmers looked at some older AIs and have put together an experimental trap code. We've integrated it successfully with some of the technology local to the Matrix he's currently hiding out in. We can't be sure it'll work, but you'll be the first ones to test out.

[He doesn't answer Mila, but she does make him grin, brief, vulpine yet warm, bright against his tawny face. As long as you have good questions, one imagines; he'd find a way to make it a valid compliment.

Then he looks at Kate.]

They call it 'Xandar.' Its galaxy is continuous with an iteration of the Earth Matrix you might be familiar with.

[berserkergang]

[ Thor thinks he doesn't react when the word 'Xandar' happens. What is actually the case is his mouth slacks open slightly likely he has something to say, but doesn't, and his weight shifts from one foot to the next.

He doesn't like the way the pretty politician crinkles his eyes at him, very much. But at opportunity to speak up about what he 'might be familiar with', he does not. ]

[rrrrangerrick]

Xandar?

[--Rocket says, loudly. In case you don't know what Xandar is, or want to play down your reaction, Rocket is ready with enough blatant name recognition for everyone. He doesn't bother to unfold his arms, but he does roll his eyes.]

Xandar. Like the Nova Corps Xandar. Buncha knuckleheads. You've gotta be kidding me. That's like, a piece of cake. I've tracked down so many friggin' people on Xandar, I know it like the back of my [paw] hand.

Piece of frickin' cake.

[alsohawkeye]

[ That name sounds familiar, but Kate is half still focused on the other things Orion has said, the chased by a number of parties and pass through anything and so it takes her a second longer to pull up the memory of being told about Xandar. So Rocket helpfully beats her to it.

She almost says 'paw' for him but doesn't, though the sideways glance at Jomi-- which is meant to check that he isn't going to say it-- seems to suggest some sort of inside joke. She turns back to Orion a second later and smiles. It's her captain's smile, too polite to reach the level of friendly, signalling that she's got it from here and he can start seeing himself out as surely as if she'd stood up. ]

Great. Rocket can fill us in on the geographical details. Anything else we need before we get started?