ten_fwd_ooc | TEST DRIVE #1

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test drives

TEST DRIVE #1 - Ten Forward

You know how you were standing there, back in your home world, just minding your own business?

Time to forget all about that.

Instead of doing whatever the heck you were just doing, you're standing in the middle of this very stylish, sedate barroom. Happily, you're not alone there - in fact you're surrounded by people who seem to be as confused as you are...and some of them look a little, well unusual

Now would be a great time to do....well, something. Ask some questions of the person nearest you, throw a fit, stage a coup....maybe do a little exploring? No matter what you do, you're going to be here for a very long time.

For others might call it the USS Enterprise, but for the foreseeable future, you'll be calling it home.

[OOC: this test drive's open until the next app period.]

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"Oh," Darcy wiggles the fingers of her right hand at him in greeting, mouth quirking up. "So you are him. He is you. You follow me. All alien doubles are currently hypothetical, but aliens in general are not."

She considers him for a moment, and something in her back straightens slightly. This is probably a dream, but he sure isn't acting like it is. "This is a space ship, but it's only alien in the most general sense. Guy at the bar told me it's called the USS Enterprise, which is what I kind of figured but it never hurts to check. It's based out of California. It's the 24th century, if you take his word for it. And I kind of am, right now, because I don't know why he'd lie about it. People might lie to you about that sort of thing, but I'm just an intern. A... science intern. Assistant."

Not that Jane is actually doing any science right now. She considers this, and doesn't revise her self-description.

He frowns. He's having no trouble keeping up with her explanation, it just happens to raise more questions than it answers.

"United States Navy?" he asks, reevaluating the uniformed officers he sees scattered around the room. He knows the name Enterprise, and it's heavily steeped in American history. It's not the aircraft carrier that springs to mind first, but if this is the 24th century, then maybe the name has been rechristened for a ...

Spaceship.

"A science intern," he repeats, swiveling to face her. "From the 24th century. On a spaceship called the Enterprise. Why do I get the feeling I should have watched those sci-fi movies my partner suggested?"

"Because your partner is right," Darcy says. "Anyway, no, I'm not from the 24th century, I'm from the plain old 21st. Yay, 2013. Darcy Lewis," she says, sticking her free hand out. "Former SHIELD assistant to Agent Coulson, but my workplace kinda fell into the ground pretty much right after they sent me off to babysit an astrophysicist. She studies, uh -- well, travelling between worlds, to be honest."

Darcy considers this. She should probably be taking notes.

"You have seen Star Wars, right?"

Edited 2014-04-25 19:04 (UTC)

He clasps her hand, looking by all accounts as wary as they come, but keeps the gesture friendly.

She hits him with another volley of information he's not 100% sure how to process. As soon as she forms the 'S' in 'S.H.I.E.L.D.', he's prickling with familiar annoyance. It may be his organization, but they keep way too many secrets for this to be coincidence. He'd ask her if she was keeping tabs on him, but seconds later she defuses him entirely with another familiar word. Coulson.

The line between his brows deepens, and he lets his hand slip heavily from her grasp. "I take it this isn't one of your astrophysicist's projects, then? How do two SHIELD employees end up on a space ship in the 24th century?"

Beat.

"Oh. Uh," he smiles crookedly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I've been meaning to get around to it. Really, I have it written down and everything."

Something in Darcy's demeanor quiets, between his reaction to Coulson's name and his question. She doesn't correct him on SHIELD employee. She still gets money deposited in her bank account every two weeks, but she thinks someone forgot to take her off the employee list. No one's been responding to her update e-mails for months, not even after she started making up bizarre occurrences.

"Well," she says, setting down her lemon-y cocktail on the closest table. "I've been taking it as a dream. But as that's starting to get really unlikely, we can look at the facts, right?" Darcy adjusts her glasses. "Nobody here's surprised by the new arrivals, not really -- and we're definitely not the only ones. Bartender acted like I was one of a long line. If they're so chill about it, there has to be an explanation they know, right? A spaceship's a closed environment -- there must be some sort of processing for newcomers. Best bet's to look cute and ask an officer."

She shoots him a sideways glance. "Believe me, if my astrophysicist could do this, she'd be here to geek out." And figure out how to make sense of Star Trek science.

A dream, right. He wonders briefly why that hadn't been his first thought. It hadn't even been his second, or third. That's the natural reaction, isn't it? Assume you're dreaming, or...

"Could be a shared hallucination. Somebody hit us with some weaponized agent, a gas maybe, and we're all really in a padded room somewhere while they run tests," he says. There's a beat. When he turns back to her, he's smiling faintly. He's joking. Probably. "Right. Well, I'll leave the 'cute' business up to you, but I think you're onto something."

He starts searching for an officer who isn't occupied with someone else, never afraid to take the initiative when it comes to confronting strangers in a strange situation, when he suddenly looks startled. "I mean. Not that I was saying -- I just think you'd have a better chance pulling off 'cute'. Because you're, uh. You are. But I didn't mean to overstep."

Stop talking, Steve.

Darcy should have a witty remark, but she's actually pretty surprised. Not that he thinks she's cute, hell no – Darcy is flipping adorable, and well aware of it.

Most guys don't care about overstepping.

"Cute duty, got it," she says, tucking a piece of hair back behind her right ear. Her hand lingers for a moment by her neck before she remembers to drop it. "Um, thanks."

Subject change. Uh. "Well, it tends to work best with older people --50s, 60s. That's more important for guys; you'd freak out any of them who'd help just to hit on me. Any friendly looking female officer's probably fine, as long as I'm shorter than her. Nobody's happy with two people looming over them."

Except Yoda, speaking of references he wouldn't get.

Subject changes are wonderful things. Steve clears his throat, bobbing his head as she speaks, though it's entirely possible he's too uncomfortable to pay close attention to what she's saying.

"There's an officer at your seven o'clock who doesn't look like she's occupied with other things," he suggests. "Unless their idea of processing involves sequestering us in a secluded room and running us through a battery of tests, I say we ask her for information and see where it gets us."

"Never know until we ask," Darcy says, clocking the officer. She looks nice enough, if tired.

Darcy tucks her hair behind her left ear, this time intentionally, as she approaches. "Excuse me, ma'am? I'm sorry -- my friend and I aren't really sure how we got here...?"

--

"So," Darcy says, once they've left the officer. "That was reassuring."

Her tone is dry.

"Think we should just get the medical stuff over with?"

Reassuring isn't the word Steve would use, but at least now he knows who he's up against. That's half the battle, and does a whole lot for putting him at ease.

"I wouldn't mind taking a closer look around first," he says, in no hurry to visit this Dr. Crusher the officer mentioned. Steve once thought his days of constant doctors' visits would be behind him once the serum took effect, but you'd be surprised by how many people want to run blood tests and strap you to machines to see how you're working every time you start and finish an op -- and sometimes in-between. It's not his favorite past-time. "Unless you have any objections. Sounds like sickbay is going to be there waiting regardless."

"No," Darcy draws the vowel out. "Not really? I'm just --"

She laughs, slightly, tucking her hands into her back pockets. "I kind of feel like I'm in a horror movie and, scare chord, this is going to turn out to be some fascist state that reeeeally doesn't like people like me."

Darcy shrugs, and tilts her head up at him. "Pretty sure you're the expert on sizing up unknown situations. What do you want to take a look at?"

She has his full attention the moment her elongated vowel clues him in that something is wrong. Everything happened pretty fast, and for Steve that means quick thinking and quick action, meeting the situation head on. But he doesn't know anything about Ms. Lewis besides the fact that she works for an astrophysicist and appears to be a fan of Star Wars.

"Fascist state?" he says, arching his eyebrows. He scans the room. "If anything, from what we just learned I'd be more worried about marshal law. I'm not going to let anything happen to you, regardless."

He'd like to explore the ship a little, get a lay of the land, find this computer the officer talked about with directions and schematics, but he can learn just as much from observing a crowd. He gestures to one end of the room with his chin. "You want to take a table in the corner?"

"Hardcore communist works too," Darcy says, heading that way. She pulls her hands out of her pockets to cross her arms over her body as she sits. "Jewish poli-sci major; I have biases. Governments with their thumb on everything aren't usually as utopian as they might seem.

"Especially not in sci-fi."

"Yeah. I agree with you," he says, scanning the room again as he takes the seat opposite her. "I mean, I don't know as much sci-fi as you probably do. You have a unique perspective. I've just had a lot of recent experience with organizations that make me question how they're run."

He adds 'Jewish poli-sci major' to his list of things he knows about her. She's intelligent, cautious, opinionated -- Steve's interested in her opinion. "You recognized me. Earlier, that is. Were you recognizing Steve Rogers, affiliate of S.H.I.E.L.D., or Captain America?"

"The second one," Darcy says. "My program had a year-long senior independent study project, it was supposed to help us get ready for grad school. I looked into how the United States perceived itself in international relations after the war. The formation of national identity has a lot of factors, but I narrowed my focus to post-war media, and you were everywhere. References, re-spliced versions of the initial propaganda, films about the Captain America persona." Her mouth quirks.

"Captain America's a useful identity for a country to have, no offense. No moral grays, no need to question whether McCarthyism is really worth it. Gotta protect that good old American Way."

He doesn't answer right away, although he might be trying to communicate through blinking and jaw tics. It's not like he isn't aware of his own celebrity. It's inescapable, part of his public identity, and part of his obligation to his country. Everyone thinks they know who Captain America is. Some cheer for him in the streets, and some jeer from passing cars. It's just never settled in enough for him to expect it.

"Really?" His face heats as he thinks back on his brief film career. "You wrote a paper on me? An academic paper?"

"Well, I guess it depends." Darcy rests an elbow on the table. "Are you Captain America, or do you just play him on camera?"

He startles. Again, it's not the first time he's been asked that question, but it doesn't happen often. And really, it was a tad presumptuous answering her as if it was personal.

"Good point," he says, chuckling nervously. "I never really liked -- performing. The things I do, how I serve my country, those things I'm proud of. That's me. But kissing babies and selling bonds was just what I was told to do to serve my country."

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TEST DRIVE #1 - Ten Forward

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