Ricki Tarr (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rickitikitarr) wrote2015-03-08 10:47 am
rickitikitarr) wrote2015-03-08 10:47 am
1. video
[Ricki Tarr, latest inmate arrival, is still getting his feet under him. He's been on board for a little while now, but let's face it, he's a field agent from the 1970s, getting used to graphical user interfaces of his messenger has put up a bit of a roadblock in terms of his making contact.
By the time he's confident enough with the flimsy, cheeping little device to make a video post, his stomach is growling, so the very first message is a simple video shot.
It's poorly framed, he has no real idea of how to centre himself in the lens, and the light in his room is dark and low and terrible for any sort of filming. But from the dark, what's visible of his half-in-the-frame expression is still and steady;]
The first living creature to orbit the earth was a little Russian mongrel named Laika. She was a pretty thing, with a clever cast to her eyes and pricked up, pointed ears. On the fourtieth anniversary of the Bolshevik revolution they flung the little thing into the sky.
In fact, the Russians had been launching dogs into suborbital flights for a few years before, but none attained the notoriety or captured the imaginations of the world like little Laika. I was rather young when she was sent to space, but recall thinking the entire proceedings terribly inhumane.
The Soviets say that she was euthanized before her oxygen ran out. The British and Americans question whether that is true. The Russians question whether that questioning is deliberately spread propaganda meant to make them seem monstrous. In the time since, I think both sides have lost track of the original truth of the matter. But the question of her ultimate cause of death aside, I wondered whether she might be hungry, thirsty or afraid, uncomprehending of how it was possible to see stars all around her... I actually can't recall reading whether Sputnik 2 was like this ship, with windows or not. Laika may not have seen stars spinning in the sky, but I'm sure the sounds and sudden lack of gravity must have been rather frightening for such a little dog.
[His voice is low and steady, the pictures his paints are matter-of-fact and vivid. He accent is an odd, old one, London tempered by a childhood racing through Penang streets and other colonial holds. He takes his time with the story before concluding;]
Which is all to say, given the apparent flexibility of space and time on this vessel, if we see her while we're out here, I must simply insist that we make a stop.
By the time he's confident enough with the flimsy, cheeping little device to make a video post, his stomach is growling, so the very first message is a simple video shot.
It's poorly framed, he has no real idea of how to centre himself in the lens, and the light in his room is dark and low and terrible for any sort of filming. But from the dark, what's visible of his half-in-the-frame expression is still and steady;]
The first living creature to orbit the earth was a little Russian mongrel named Laika. She was a pretty thing, with a clever cast to her eyes and pricked up, pointed ears. On the fourtieth anniversary of the Bolshevik revolution they flung the little thing into the sky.
In fact, the Russians had been launching dogs into suborbital flights for a few years before, but none attained the notoriety or captured the imaginations of the world like little Laika. I was rather young when she was sent to space, but recall thinking the entire proceedings terribly inhumane.
The Soviets say that she was euthanized before her oxygen ran out. The British and Americans question whether that is true. The Russians question whether that questioning is deliberately spread propaganda meant to make them seem monstrous. In the time since, I think both sides have lost track of the original truth of the matter. But the question of her ultimate cause of death aside, I wondered whether she might be hungry, thirsty or afraid, uncomprehending of how it was possible to see stars all around her... I actually can't recall reading whether Sputnik 2 was like this ship, with windows or not. Laika may not have seen stars spinning in the sky, but I'm sure the sounds and sudden lack of gravity must have been rather frightening for such a little dog.
[His voice is low and steady, the pictures his paints are matter-of-fact and vivid. He accent is an odd, old one, London tempered by a childhood racing through Penang streets and other colonial holds. He takes his time with the story before concluding;]
Which is all to say, given the apparent flexibility of space and time on this vessel, if we see her while we're out here, I must simply insist that we make a stop.
no subject
[Finishing his drink, before asking his next big question.]
So how are they going to pair me up, and what kind of power is that chap going to have over me? Or lady, I suppose.
no subject
[She means that. Answering to need is instinctive, almost a compulsion, for Iris: she'd make the effort even if she hadn't taken to Ricki so much for his own sake.]
Admiral does the choosing; 'e is pretty good at making the right matches for folk, in my experience. I've worked 'ere a bit over two years, now. Let me see - anything from a couple of weeks to a couple of months to find you a match. They get an item they can track you with - tells 'em if you die, tells 'em where you are when we're off the boat. As for power - well, they can't lock you up longer'n a week. They 'urt you for any reason but self defense they'll get the boot, unless it's a diminished responsibility deal - like, I stabbed a bloke when we 'ad that rabies epidemic, and that didn't get me the sack. That's just an occupational 'azard, if you take my meaning. Anything else, people work it out as they need it - like when I 'ad Victor, I 'ad to cook up a virus just to knock out 'is genetically engineered healing factor, one time when 'e were on a rampage.
I'd say we don't get wardens who get off on power trips, but I'd be lying. I will say we don't keep 'em for long. One absolute rule is we can't cut off your communication - so say you want a worst case scenario? You can always come to any of the rest of us.
no subject
[He almost gestures for a second drink, then pauses, and glances at her.]
I should have- I have none of whatever the local currency may be.
no subject
[She gets up and fetches another round of drinks.]
Whiskey all right? We 'ave a little game, my boyfriend and me - guess the drink from the way someone looks. It's a highly scientific art.
[She takes a swig of her gin; the amused look is back.]
The rabies weren't in a port, that were one of the inmates. Bit of a mad scientist. Stole some stuff from the infirmary and cooked up a brand new disease out of 'is warden's blood - 'ad 'alf the ship infected inside days. Now that were a proper old fashioned bloodbath, that were.
[There is the faintest air of they don't make inmates like that any more in her voice, telling the story.]
no subject
[He agrees, and taking one last quick skim of the pamphlet. He thinks he's got it. But then what she's saying about the rabies clues back in.
Of course in a prison you have to mind the inmates as well as the guards. Of course.]
Is he still- around, that man?
no subject
no subject
[And it actually sort of does. He does take a hefty swallow of the whiskey, though, and sit back in his chair. Normally he's a lot more on the ball, a lot more glib, but now he finds himself sort of staring, at a bit of a loss for words.]
no subject
It'll be all right, sweetheart. It's an interesting, challenging place to be but it's not too bad. Culture shock's always a bit of a bugger to start with. D'you want to borrow a dog or so for the night?
no subject
[Bending down a bit to peer at the puppy whose ear's he's petting currently. He's considering it, but;]
No, thank you, mum, I'll be fine.
[Not in the least, but he'll be closer to if he can handle it on his own.]
no subject
Most excitement they've 'ad was one time a flood turned 'em into sabretooth tigers. That was fun.
no subject
[Or hallucination, he adds privately. Part of him is still hoping it's a hallucination.]
no subject
Plus, I might've been exaggerating about the universe; really it were just the one solar system. A bit of an important one, mind you, not to say familiar.
no subject
Not earth, was it?
[That's a little alarming to think of.]
no subject
[Iris takes another deep swallow of gin and refills both their glasses without being asked. She hasn't exactly stopped smiling, but now it's only there out of habit: the ghost of her failure looks out from between the cracks in it.]
And I'd lost my bus - my timeship, that is. I don't know what I'd've done if I 'adn't 'ad this for a fallback. Well, I do, 'cause I'd spent about a year before'and running into meself trying to stop me cocking up in the first place - only that never worked. I'm too bloody clever for meself, which isn't as comforting as it sounds when I'm trying to stop me.
no subject
[He decides, quietly, with a shake of his head.]
Shouldn't have asked, not when it's clearly sorted. You're not sitting me here, asking me to go through the cockups of my own.
no subject
You're a good lad. And no, I'm not. You and your warden'll do that between you. And sort 'em out.
I should let you rest. Nowt more tiring than 'aving a whole new world open up around you, is there? Is your room all right? 'Cause if it's given you summat that brings bad memories, I can get it changed before bedtime.
no subject
[But she's right. He finishes his drink and gives the barkeep a nod of thanks, then gets to his feet.]
Room's perfect as it is, thanks, and you're right. I should be lying down in it, like as not.