ten_fwd_ooc | TEST DRIVE #3 - Alien Bazaar/Ten Forward

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test drives

TEST DRIVE #3 - Alien Bazaar/Ten Forward

Option 001. Alien planet, marketplace: So you're new to this whole space travel thing. The ship is cool and all, but there are hundreds of alien worlds out there. You want to explore. To see what the universe REALLY looks like.

Well, here's your chance! Your first stop is this lovely indoor marketplace, which looks kind of like a mall. There are stalls one after the other as far as the eye can see, and they sell all kinds of things: food, clothes, trinkets, animals, fabrics, jewelry, perfumes, books, etc etc. Some things look human, easy to recognize; other things look very alien. There are two levels, and constant chatter as people hawk their wares and discuss prices.

Do you want to explore? Poke at the weird shops? Buy a gift for a new friend? Flirt with someone at the food court? Maybe you see a pickpocket, and must run to the aid of the victim. Maybe there's some other villainy afoot. After all, a crowded marketplace is a good place for villains to lurk, causing trouble. Whether you're a hero or just an unassuming traveler, there proves to be some adventure for you on this planet.

2

Option 002. Aboard the Enterprise, Ten Forward: You have no idea what just happened. One minute you were home, and now you're on a spaceship, in the middle of a crowded room. It looks like a bar. There are people eating and drinking, some in uniform, others not. Some are clearly aliens.

You've managed to land in Ten Forward a long bar with barstools and a bartender, tables sprinkled throughout, and the far wall is nothing but windows out to space. It looks like a nice lounge, low conversation making the room hum.

Better ask some questions and find out where you are, or just tap the closest person on the shoulder and try to make friends. The bar is open.

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"New Systems Commonwealth," he repeats, watching Telemachus with a keener interest now that he tries not to show too much. Because for him, anything that could be called that, let alone have its own military to even have a Lieutenant Commander in, is so far away. He's got a ragtag alliance at best and a hell of a lot of headaches.

"If you're really from my future, those are good words to hear."

It's been a long year. The longest. Because everything he's done this year has been without backup except the occasional favor called in from one of their new allies. It's been him and his ship with a miniscule fraction of her complement.

"So while we're apologizing, let me say I'm sorry for drawing on you." Even if it had been Gaheris, he probably wouldn't have shot him.

Even hating him as much as he does now, that's ... still tempered by three years' friendship it's hard to let go of completely.

Dylan shakes his head.

"I am not getting into this with you. I know he did what he did. He as good as told me ahead of time."

Edited 2014-07-06 01:01 (UTC)

"That's right you must be from before the charter was ratified. I'm not sure how much I should tell you. Like I said, kind of above my pay grade. But know this, we may have had our differences, but it was and will always be an honor to serve under you--and learn from you, Captain Hunt. Dylan." This man was his hero. "You are the only one to defeat our supposedly superior race. You just happen to be human." Take that as a compliment Dylan, it was intended as one. "You are a great inspiration, although, there may be times when you have to remind me of that."

Rhade quickly downed his drink and got another one, and then called after the waiter. "You know what, I changed my mind. Just give me the bottle." That way Telemachus could pick up where he left off before Harper took away his liquor and cut him off....and hit him with a chair. Even if it was for a good cause. Annoying pointy haired midget.

Now was probably not a good time to talk to him about the rather big demotion from Admiral to Lieutenant Commander. Maybe he could get a promotion. Later.

Edited 2014-07-06 01:28 (UTC)

"'Before it was ratified.' Yeah. A lot of the time, it looks like it's never going to be ratified."

He signed up for this. It's the one thing he's wanted since he found out the Commonwealth was gone. But that doesn't make it easy. Dylan has never been a diplomat and, sometimes, he has no idea how to handle the world he's gotten himself in for by trying to negotiate with planets across the three galaxies. He can't forge his Commonwealth by force.

But here's a descendant of the man who did so much to destroy the first Commonwealth, outright telling him that in his time, he's succeeded, that the Systems Commonwealth will come again and all the hard work, suffering, and sacrifices of the past year will be worth it, in the end.

He raises his eyebrows.

"You know, it's been more than three hundred years since anyone told me that." It's ... kind of nice, even if it's jarring in Rhade's voice because of what his ancestor did. And he seems to mean it, too. Sometimes, those words fall too easily from people's lips, the sort of thing they know they should say to impress people or please him.

Sucking up, in fact.

But Rhade looks sincere, insofar as he can judge how to read Telemachus Rhade from his ancestor's mannerisms.

"But to me, you don't. And I haven't. Your race are still very much menacing the Known Worlds."

Telemachus didn't look happy. "I know. Nietzscheans have turned into a race of cowards and bullies. My people have betrayed everything they are and everything they could be. It's truly and utterly disgusting. Possibly even more disgusting than Magog. At least Magog understand their nature, and try to live it to the fullest. My people have betrayed themselves." And like Gaheris, Telemachus really believed this. He believed Nietzscheans were supposed to be living gods, and that with their own perfection and that they strived for, they could raise up others.

Rhade raised an eyebrow, laughing despite himself. "Last time I told you what an inspiration you were you told me that no ones likes a suck up. I like your response better." The bottle came and he poured himself another glass.

"There's something I'm not gonna disagree with you about."

Now that makes him sound like his ancestor. The nature and potential of the Nietzschean race is a topic he's discussed plenty of times before. With Gaheris. Lately, most of his conversations about them have been more along the lines of how badly they're going to kick his butt courtesy of Tyr. Which, mostly, Tyr has been wrong about.

So maybe there is something in that only human to defeat them thing Rhade just said after all.

Lately, the Nietzscheans have just been giving Dylan headaches, and sometimes, he does wish it were just as simple as wreaking vengeance on them for their role in the Fall. Because that would be simple.

And then, Rev Bem's reminders about the good to be found in all races come back to him and, yes, some of the things Gaheris Rhade used to say. And now, it seems, Telemachus Rhade, too.

"Maybe last time you said it someone had told me a little more recently."

It would have been simple and were it up to Telemachus he might have done it all over again, just as Gaheris did. Because that was the Nietzschean thing to do. Practical. But it hadn't worked out that way.

"We're not invincible---some Nietzcheans have forgotten that. We all have limitations. But it's up to us to realize them. And to that end--" Telemachus poured himself another glass and in a mock toast, downed it again before refilling.

"Would you care to explore your limitations with me?" Rhade held up the bottle and offered him a drink.

He can't blame Telemachus Rhade for what Gaheris did to him. It's not fair, and Dylan prides himself on fairness. But it's hard to put aside the anger and betrayal that his best friend had turned on him and everything he believed in. Everything he's lost, he's lost because of the Nietzscheans. Because of Gaheris in particular.

At least Telemachus Rhade isn't constantly going on about the superiority of his race over mere humans like Dylan like so many of them do, but discussing their potential wears on his nerves now.

It belongs to a past era, to a time when a conversation like this was a way to share frank views on their beliefs between him and his first officer and dearest friend.

(Yeah. Not that he's about to admit it, but he misses him, along with everything else from that life that was.)

Dylan eyes the bottle. It's been a hell of a long time since he had the sort of friend he could sit and have a drink with. And this is a guy he's just met, and yet in so many ways, so like his old friend.

Hell, maybe he should have a drink for Gaheris' memory.

"You seem to be pretty well on the way already. But I'll join you. For your Dylan Hunt."

Now that's weird. Having a drink with a guy for his future self's sake.

Rhade raised his glass, "May he knock Harper over the head for hitting me with a chair." Nope, Telemachus wasn't going to let that go, even if he had been unconscious on the floor and Dylan needed help. And even if the engineer had tried more...conservative measures first. He hit him with a chair. Maybe when he saw Harper next he'd hit that teensy boy with a chair too. For kicks.

Telemachus knew Dylan must find this a bit unnerving. Unlike his Dylan Hunt, this Captain hadn't had time to get to know him, to reconcile the face he saw and the voice he heard with a new person that wasn't his first officer.

He poured the Captain a drink, topping himself off again too."It's a multi faceted experiment I'm running on self hatred and self deprecation. To finding our limitations." Rhade raised the glass once more and downed it.

He raises his eyebrows.

"I'm still having trouble with the fact Harper hit you with a chair."

He's impressed. Harper is a tiny guy, and Rhade is not. Dylan probably shouldn't find this an amusing mental image, but he does. Hitting a Nietzschean with a chair is a new one.

Telemachus Rhade can sure as hell drink. Dylan eyes his glass as it's drunk from then refilled as Rhade pours a second glass for him.

"Seems fairly successful so far," he observes, picking up the glass and raising it in Rhade's direction. "I didn't think self hatred was a very Nietzschean thing."

He's trying, as hard as he can, not to see Gaheris instead of his descendent as he takes a gulp of the drink.

"I'm expanding my horizons," Telemachus answered, not exactly sober, and not exactly cheerful. If there was one thing he'd learned while on Seefra, it was how to be a functioning alcoholic. That and how to whore himself out to the entire female population.

"I think Harper enjoyed that one a little too much. I was,"Telemachus shrugged again, " expanding my horizons into unconsciousness. It was nice while it lasted." Thank you very much,Harper. Now he had to start all over again. "But apparently you needed saving." And he did it while completely drunk. He was just that skilled.

This time, it's just one eyebrow that raises, questioning.

"I'm not sure your horizons are expanding in the smartest directions."

Drunkenness? Unconsciousness? Those are really not things he'd expect from a Nietzschean. And it's true that he's having trouble disassociating Telemachus from the clean-cut High Guard officer he'd known, whom he could never imagine sounding ... well, drunk.

"What can I say?" he says, because there's really not that much he can say without knowing things he can't know because they're apparently about his future, "it's good to have a crew to stick up for me when I need saving."

It was certainly sounding like this Dylan was siding with Rommie, who, just a few hours ago had taken one look at Telemachus and responded that his blood alcohol level was practically toxic...and probably grateful he wasn't trying to take a seat in the pilots chair. Don't fly drunk.

"You never know until you try, Captain." Rhade slid that in there, throwing him a bone since this wasn't his Dylan and it took too much effort to hate him. He was too lazy to hate him. Being drunk was easier.

"You know, if you stopped getting yourself into foolishly suicidal positions, we wouldn't need to save you." Telemachus was definitely slurring his words as he poured himself another cup.

Edited 2014-07-08 15:51 (UTC)

And if Rhade had taken a single step anywhere near the pilot's seat of any ship Dylan had any responsibility for in that state, he'd be testing Nietzschean abilities against Heavy Grav Worlder strength and Argosy training.

"If I'd wanted to try that, don't you think I'd have done it by now?"

It's not like he doesn't have enough reason, if he'd wanted to look at the world that way. As if being three hundred years in the future with nothing and nobody he knew except Andromeda wasn't enough (no Sara, no crew, no friends, no family, not even his homeworld is still there), there's the little matter of the Fall of the Commonwealth and his one-ship crusade against the Long Night.

And, of course, the Magog.

But letting himself wallow in any of that is not going to do anything to change the past or to forge a new line against the night.

Dylan shrugs, picking up his glass and taking a gulp, though his pace is nothing like Telemachus'.

"Una salus victus, Commander," he quips. "It's worked for me so far."

The Argosy Special Operations Service never really leaves a man, even after he's transferred out of it. And he commands his ship as much by that motto as any other.

"One day, one day that's going to get you in trouble. Just make sure I'm not there to see it." The Nietzschean took in another long drink. "But, I can't hate you. It's too much damned effort." Yes Dylan, he was too lazy to hate you.

"You're problem is you don't believe you're going to die. Either than or you're crazy stupid. Which one is it? I've been wanting to ask that for a while. Truthfully, you pit yourself against the universe and eventually the universe will spit you out bloody and filthy. Because no matter what, the universe doesn't care about you. It doesn't care about the Commonwealth. It just IS." And he took another drink.

"You've been on my crew for a year and you haven't worked that out?"

It's funny. He never thought it was too hard to understand; it's not like he has some hidden agenda, and his crew knows that. Maybe not all the people they meet do, but his crew? Sure.

He knows it's hard for a Nietzschean, when their society focuses on their own personal survival and the continuation of their genetics. And Dylan's missed that chance.

"Of course I know I'm going to die. Maybe tomorrow, maybe in a hundred years like any other heavy worlder. But I came out of something nobody should survive and I've kept beating the odds ever since. So maybe fate has something in store for me.

"But the universe needs the Commonwealth, and if I'm gonna die, it might as well be for something worth dying for."

He holds up his glass.

"You know me, you know my story. The black hole already took my world. My ship, my crew, and my mission are all I've got. So if I go down for Andromeda, her crew, or the Commonwealth? It's worth it."

And with that, he takes a long, hard gulp of whatever it is Telemachus has given him.

Edited 2014-07-13 14:40 (UTC)

"That's the problem Dylan!" Telemachus threw down a half empty glass in contempt and frustration. "The rest of us get caught with you. You're not the luckiest man in the universe, luck runs out. And eventually it shits all over you. I came to the Andromeda to learn from you-- the only one who has ever beaten our supposedly superior race. And do you know what I've learned Dylan?"

Rhade took another sip. A long sip.

"I've learned that nothing sticks to you. I don't know if your crazy or suicidal or even delusional. I've learned that hope doesn't exist. It's their to tempt us. To keep us trying and reaching and then, fate takes a giant crap in your general direction. Cheers." Rhade emptied his cup.

"And maybe I'm a little bit of all of it," he says. "But whatever happens, I never go into a situation without a plan to get out of it. And I never send my crew into one I think they won't survive. You say my luck's going to run out? I say it's beginning to look like fate."

He leans forward to snatch at the bottle before Rhade gets a chance to refill his glass.

If he really does respect Dylan as much as he says he does, then he's doing him a favor. He wouldn't want to be saying the things he's saying. Not if he were sober.

Unless Dylan's future self is a far worse leader and judge of character than he chooses to believe.

Dylan leans forward, eyes intent.

"Pessimism isn't a survival trait. I told Gaheris that once. But you know what? Hope is."

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TEST DRIVE #3 - Alien Bazaar/Ten Forward

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