systemcritical | she's ship captain (open-ish)

Entry tags:

she's ship captain (open-ish)

CHARACTERS ▶ Kate Bishop + others
LOCATION ▶ Mostly in and around the Atalanta
SUMMARY ▶ A catch-all post for logs for the month
WARNINGS ▶ n/a
NOTES ▶ I'll be tossing up starters in here for people I've already planned things with; if you'd like something too feel free to ping me to discuss or drop in a starter of your own!

Zion's docks are busy at all hours, and among their many visitors one has recently become even more of a fixture than usual. It only makes sense a newly minted captain would want to spend time getting acquainted with her ship, and the Atalanta's is no different. Maybe a little more zealous than some given the amount of time she spends overseeing every detail of repair work and outfitting, in and out a dozen times a day to discuss this or learn more about that.

When she isn't charming the mechanics into showing her how they fix a gimbal or sketching out alterations to the weapon targeting systems or meeting with her new crew there's paperwork to be done, ZDG rosters and releases and briefings, personnel files and mission packets. She's often to be found perched somewhere, in sight of the ship or in a restaurant nearby, reading and typing away.

She hasn't entirely abandoned the rest of her life for the ship-- almost, but not totally. There are still appointments to be kept, regular training partners and 'students' to check up on while she's still in town, sim sessions and real world sparring, runs that wind her way through the city. Every once in a while she even goes home long enough to run into her neighbors.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Kate's meeting with her new First Officer is the only one of the bunch of appointments on her busy schedule she's at all anxious about. Maybe anxious isn't quite the right word, but it's the one she's most uncertain about: how it will go, how she's going to handle it. It niggles at the back of her mind, has her drumming her fingers in a relentless, restless tattoo on the back of the chair as she leans over watching the programmer running through the set-up of various on-board systems, tweaking things to her specifications. She's had years to build up opinions about how she'd arrange things if she had a ship of her own.

This is what she's doing when Deucalion arrives, leaning over with an arm stretched out to tap at the little console screen, some setting she wants raised, some display she wants shifted over to the right. It's a little micromanagey, and from the technician's resigned expression it's not the first thing she's felt the need to dictate in detail today.

She's engrossed in it, but not so much that she misses his arrival, and she turns quickly, holds up a finger, and then finishes her instructions before pushing away from the station. She greets her First Officer with a polite nod and a tilt of her head that indicates the way down the corridor. She begins to walk, assumes he'll follow. ]

So. Here we are. I admit I was surprised, I hadn't heard you were gunning to move up the ranks.

[For not the first time since the assignments were sent out, Deucalion has to wonder if the council did this deliberately, or if it's simply fate. Between the two options, he can't decide which he prefers, though he wouldn't argue with either. Kate and the rest of the team which extracted him have more knowledge of what he can be than anyone else in the city. There's likely no one better for monitoring how well he takes to a new role in command.

It doesn't lessen the doubts and worry that coil in his gut as he boards the ship, works his way slowly along the walkways up to the cockpit, fingers trailing on railings and the edges of doorframes. The Atalanta. The huntress. And home, perhaps, for all the irony in that.]

I can't say that I am.

[He answers honestly, turning to follow Kate back down the corridor. She's already navigating the space as though she commands it, issuing instructions, confident. He wonders how much of that is settled in, and how much of it is forced. He wonders if she's thinking of betas and alphas, when she says about moving up the ranks.]

There was a need, and I had the skills to meet it.

[ She is thinking of precisely that, and it's clear in the keenness of the gaze she turns on him over her shoulder as she walks, already navigating the ship by instinct and habit. It's a look as cool and piercing as the arrows she's so fond of she basically named a ship after them, and she fixes him with it for a long moment, assessing those indications of honesty. ]

Good.

[ It's clear she doesn't entirely trust them, that she isn't ready to let go of her wariness altogether. But also that she doesn't find the red flags she was looking for. They take another few yards of corridor in silence, and then she turns in the doorway to the cockpit. He isn't as much taller than her as he sometimes seems, but one gets the sense Kate wouldn't care if he towered. ]

If captain is what you want, then you do good work with us here and I won't stand in your way. Do good enough, show me you're really taking this second chance seriously, and I might even help you. But if I see any sign that you're aiming to step on our heads to get back on top-- any sign at all that this crew is disposable to you?-- and I will make sure that you never work again. Not on my ship, not on any ship. Got it?

Loud and clear, captain.

[Genuine in tone, rather than anything that could be mistaken as condescending. He hadn't asked for the role of captain and he hadn't been given it - he knew his place. And he knew why she wouldn't trust that yet.]

I had many year's experience of being a leader before I was a monster. It's that I'm hoping to offer you and this crew. Not the rest.

[Level, meeting her gaze. She knew what he'd been. There was no hiding from that, but the parts of him that wanted to were fuelled by shame, not secrecy and ambition. She didn't yet trust him, but he could meet that quite easily in how he didn't yet trust himself.]

[ The restaurant Kate chose is small, only the size of a small apartment or two, and doesn't seem to have a name. Her directions were all based off other landmarks, 'turn left from the east side of the docks, second hall on your right, across from the repair shop, but not the first one, the one with the yellow sign' etc. It's clearly a hole in the wall and something of a ZDG haunt, full to bursting with the grease-smeared denizens of the docks.

Kate's secured a tiny table shoved up against the wall between a couple others, just enough space for her and Finch to squeeze in. The close quarters might seem at first to be a bad choice for what is meant to be an at least somewhat private conversation, but the place is loud with chatter and the clinking of cups and forks, and the table's so small they could whisper beneath it if they want. Not that Kate does, at least not to start. ]

My advice is skip the fake meat, but the fake egg protein omelette scramble things are really not bad here. The owner's friends with one of the tea farmers, I think, that's the other real draw. Definitely some of the best in the city.

[Emily seems pleased by the place, when she arrives. It reminds her, contrarily, of happier times - Prague, Istanbul, even a particularly divey bit of Berlin. She misses the menus at those places, but still, the coziness doesn't seem to bother her.She supposes she's never actually had caffeine, but the point stands.]

Thanks for the suggestion. I'm still finding my feet. As you probably know too well.

[Her tone is rueful. She's not falsely humble - she has some skills - but in Kate's place, she would have preferred someone with more experience. Any experience, really, beyond sims.]

We've all been there.

[ Kate's smile is sympathetic, her shrug easy. There's an openness to her manner that lets it come off sincere without being pitying or condescending. A woman leans between tables to take their order and she requests tea and "eggs" with vegetables, giving Emily a moment before continuing, almost like she senses the apology not spoken aloud. ]

You and Fenris and Hawke all seem eager to work hard, I'm sure you'll pick things up quickly and that's really all I could ask for. I'm not worried. [ She smiles, and it seems like she means it. ]

Plus, this way no bad habits to try to break you out of.

[Emily laughs quietly.]

You know, I had a teacher years ago with the same philosophy. Better a rookie than someone sure they're doing it right and cocking it up at the same time. ...that's more or less a direct quote from her, though she somehow managed to make it sound better. But I'm pretty sure she was speaking from experience.

Did you have someone take you under their wing, when you first arrived?

[ Her teacher's philosophy is precisely what Kate was thinking, judging by the way her smile tugs wider as Emily goes on. Their tea arrives and she gives hers a stir, steam swirling above it. ]

Not exactly. I sort of bounced around for a while, worked on a few different ships, muddled through on my own more or less. Eventually I settled in a little more and found a better fit, but I mostly flailed away on my own cocking it up, as your teacher would say.

I'd like to make sure you and Fenris and the others have a smoother start than I did.

I appreciate that.

[Emily sits back, holding the warm beverage between her hands for a moment to appreciate its heat.]

I suppose I've never been very patient with my own learning curve. It's humbling, to be back at square one so thoroughly.

[Her smile is small and rueful.]

But I suppose there's no solution to that but practice.

[ Most sims are designed to simulate the Matrix experience, to allow operatives to practice forgetting the laws of physics and gravity. The piloting sims are the opposite: no plugging in, no uploaded assistance, all laws of nature programmed into effect. The console is set in a generic cockpit mock-up, designed to match as many ZDG ships as possible. Luckily, Kate has informed him, the Atalanta is pretty generic, too. A few of her recent upgrades have been input by the technician who operates the place to get as close to realism as possible, but it's all fairly bare bones.

Kate perches on the copilot's seat, one leg drawn up beneath her, twisted around to watch Hawke and the 'windshield' screen and output monitors at once. She makes no attempt to pretend her attention isn't entirely focused on his performance, or that it isn't a very keen and judgmental sort of attention, weighing each choice he makes against some invisible score sheet, ticking off boxes in her head as he goes. Pre-flight checks, take off, dock exit protocols, some basic winding through tunnels. She's been friendly enough but since they started it's been mostly business.

Next up is apparently evasive or combat maneuvers, as a Sentinel warning starts beeping, a little red light flashing in the dim faux-cabin and a read-out indicating a pair of them coming up fast on the left. Kate doesn't say anthing, just keeps watching intently. Don't fuck up, Hawke. ]

[ Hawke is virtually always performing for a satisfied audience of one, so although he does want to keep this job and therefore certainly isn't ignoring Kate's scrutiny, his expectations for himself are ...probably higher. Possibly.

Either way he's efficient in the technical aspects; things like exit protocols are items he can and has memorized. Yes or no is easy to get right, but that's all aptitude he could demonstrate on a written exam. Actually accounting for the endless variables that start to crop up dealing with even obstacles as rigid as machines takes a different kind of concentration. He's clearly still got some work ahead of him as far as training goes; he's right-handed and it shows in the direction that pulls the ...pretend ship in the swoop that guides them free of both Sentinels, although not as cleanly as he'd like

This breaks a very colorful stream of profanity out of one side of his mouth, but otherwise he shakes it off and readjusts that hand, pulling it into a loose fist before settling back into the controls. ]

[ Kate's standards are high, her expectations for Hawke perhaps a little less so; she's left room to be pleasantly surprised. If he doesn't quite exceed those expectations he also doesn't undershoot them, and his colorful response to a serviceable but less than perfect result tugs one corner of her mouth up in what looks like sympathetic amusement. She's always been something of a perfectionist herself. ]

Not bad. Could be better, but I get the feeling you already know that.

[ The simulation winds up pretty quickly after that encounter, an easy path into dock and the Zion docking and post-flight protocols all that's left. Kate uncurls half out of her chair, getting feet beneath her to perch just on the edge. She reaches over and sets a hand on his shoulder in a friendly thump. ]

I've seen what I needed to see. How do you feel about it?

[ Oh good, he has plenty more swearing where that came from. ...for stress release purposes, not just every time he opens his mouth. Anyway, he didn't exceed his own expectations either, but considering the sim results weren't 'you are dead of Sentinel or wall,' he judges he won't have to throw himself into the reservoir today, anyway. He's still focused pretty much entirely on the controls to the point of friendly thumping, at which point he turns his head a bit to grin crookedly out of his peripheral vision. ]

Could've gone better. Could've gone worse, too! We're not in little virtual pieces at the bottom of a sewer tunnel or anything, that's always nice. Such a mess to clean up.

[ A beat, which is either for effect or because, you know, he is concentrating on docking. ]

Virtually, anyway.

[ It takes a few days; she wasn't kidding about being busy. But eventually Kate does swing by the clinic, jogging up to the door one evening, late in the day as requested. She's not jogging because she's in a rush but because that's apparently how she's shoehorned this little jaunt all the way down to the lowest levels of the city into her schedule: by making it part of her daily run.

So it's boots clomping and just a little bit sweaty around the edges that Kate arrives, hair in a tight ponytail she tugs tighter as she slows to a walk and looks around. In a tank top bare arms are full of ports, and there are the dark circles of a tattoo on the inside of her right wrist. ]

Hi, [ she says to the first person she sees, smile friendly, breathing already slowed back to normal, ] I'm looking for Lily? I'm Kate, she said to drop by sometime so we could talk.

Oh! [Kate has approached an older woman with a freshly bandaged hand; she smiles and points down the hallway with the unbandaged one.] Of course, dear; just go down that way. The door is open and the light is on, so you can't miss it.

Thanks.

[ Kate smiles politely and follows where the woman points, heading down the hall to the open door. She raps on it lightly with her knuckles as she leans into the doorway to try again. ]

Lily?

[ She knows the woman as a captain from word of mouth more than anything else. Here, it's not like back home, where you know who's who just by looking at them: you could tell a magician by the cut of his clothes and the leather in his shoes, a Grayback by his uniform. Here, though, the captain of a ship might be dressed in the same rough-stitched burlap as a beggar, and there's no one who walks like he owns the place; no one takes for granted his superiority over all he surveys. So it takes a lot longer to figure out who's important than it did at home.

But conversations, overheard at the restaurant and around the docks, have let Kitty pick out a few of the people in charge. And so this woman's one of them. Hawkeye is apparently her name; she's awfully pretty and seems fairly comfortable in her position of authority. A bit of a micromanager, maybe. She's always hovering through repairs, the dock crews say, and always asking questions - so she might not be that confident? One stevedore is just about in love with her, which Kitty has to endure listening to for a ridiculously long time before she can politely get out of the conversation.

Once she does a little bit of information gathering, she finally decides to get in a little closer. Kitty finds and barters for a wig long enough to make her look like she's been here more than a few months, sheds her cute waitress' outfit in favor of something a little more sober and professional. Gives up a little packet of tea in exchange for a pair of wire-rimmed glasses that make her blink. And so, in a little cafe, when Hawkeye is deep in her cup of tea, Kitty finally approaches her, looking sober and a little troubled. ]

Hello. You're a ship's captain, aren't you?

[ Kate's aware of the approach but takes another moment to finish what she's reading, flicking the document closed and the device locked as she looks up. One brow lifts, her expression shifting into politely solicitous neutrality. ]

I am. Kate Bishop of the Atalanta. Can I help you with something?

[ Eventually the vague familiarity of the face will seep in, but for now she's focused on that concern, the seriousness of the approach, the newness of the question. There were plenty of congratulations that went around when she was assigned the ship, acquaintances coming out of the woodwork to curry favor or even out of genuine feeling occasionally. But total strangers recognizing her is a new thing, still, and she's not sure what to expect from it yet, especially with this demeanor attached. ]

[ The smile she flashes isn't like any smile that Kitty Jones has ever turned on anyone, nor Lizzie Temple. Lizzie, the girl she usually pretends to be here, has a bright and toothy grin, something big and unrestrained. Kitty, meanwhile, gives a lot of crooked, secretive smirks that turn quickly into scowls of equal passion but no real malice. The girl that Kitty is right now, this Alice, smiles in a way that's polite, restrained, and empty. Her face is devoid of the energy that runs through Kitty like electricity does a neon sign. ]

Yes, ma'am.

[ Her voice is different, too, transformed by a flat American accent. Not perfect, but who'll call her on it in Zion's wild mishmash of dialects and tongues? ]

My name is Alice Fitzroy. I just got hired to work at a start-up newspaper, the Zion Herald, that's looking to cover the more human side of life in Zion. We're running a piece on the lifestyles of the people involved in the Zion Defense Grid, to let people get to know the people protecting them. Could I possibly take just seven minutes of your time?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

she's ship captain (open-ish)

for deucalion

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for emily finch

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for hawke

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i'm the worst i'm sorry

shhhh no

for lily

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hello :')

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