On the afternoon of October 30th, a teenage girl drifts into the transport room. She has a tight comportment, from the thinly rolled tablet tucked under her arm to the entirely buttoned cardigan over her dress.
"Mr. Vennet?" He might well recognize her crisp, polite voice, not to mention her glowing skin, from the Transporter pad calibration. "Are you here?"
"Okay, um, if you insist, sir." Dealing with human men is not exactly Kanaya's strong suit. Likewise the handshake she steps forward to offer him has a jerky, alien quality.
"I'm Kanaya Maryam, assistant in the Department of Initiative-Transport Relations. Director Goodman sent me."
"Huh, so yer t'girl for the job, then?" His voice has more curiosity in it than anything else. The handshake from his side is firm, calloused but natural. It is, if he's honest with himself, as much of a greeting as to tell if her skin is as warm as the glowing would hint at.
"Got two kindsa work. First is easy, y'find t'missions that don't need no brainwork, like, gettin' cupcakes or something. An' see if it matches with missions what been done before. Same drop point makes t'coordinates easier. Less time wasted." He rubs his chin. "The other's takin' missions and gettin' the research for em. Drop points need somewheres obscure... so foottraffic patterns, times a day, variables like construction what were goin' on at the time."
He glances at the girl, "Either sound right for ya?"
The temperature of her skin is ordinary by human standards - if not slightly cooler, in fact. She blinks as he explains and she listens attentively.
"I suppose the first is more to my liking. I've been working with the AI on this series of chemical supply sabotage missions so I know how to distinguish between location-essential and not. Since that work can set a foundation to be reused in future, once it's done if you're satisfied with my performance could I move on to the second type of work, which sounds like it would be more ongoing?"
He nods in answer, picking up his coffee cup. The one or two long sips gave him time to think of what to do. He hadn't actually expected Saul Goodman to find and send someone quite as quickly, no matter what he'd said. Though it was certainly not a bad thing, it left one logistics question... the data. No way it hell he could let her just have a copy of it, not after so many of them got captured...
"If y'been working with AI you probably got some basics on the computer. I'm gonna loan ya a terminal, but gonna have some rules to it. Y'on with that?"
"Okay..." Kanaya isn't entirely sure of the reason for this stipulation (her own abduction, albeit one that occurred without mind control, does not come to mind) but it's not objectionable either.
She decided to play off the restriction with slight humor. "Anything to work with a larger keyboard than our tablets have again."
It gets a wry grin. "Don't know how y'do it m'self. Simple enough, no makin' copies. No pictures, no prints, no transferrin' it to y'tablet." He shrugs. "Aint nothing personal, just aint lettin' all that outta this room."
"Okay..." Though she completely believes his avowed lack of personal reason, it does still slightly depress her that in her interdimensionally unstable situation, she's not trustworthy. That's a problem to be solved after the war, IF she stays here long enough to see it, a stipulation she does not often let herself consider.
"I didn't even know printing resources were available up here what with the short supplies of everything else. I wouldn't dream of doing so now."
"They aint for t'most part." There was still always something easier to him about a print map, though that was still in one of his boxes.
He pushes back his chair and clears off space by one of the other terminals. Wrenches and parts, diagrams and instructions that were of less importance tended to find themselves on whatever available surface there was, now that there was hardly any storage that could be boasted of. There's a few minutes of typing and the screen flashes a few times before he turns it over to her.
KMaryam Please select a password. __________ Retype selected password __________
He steps aside, intent on sorting through his supply missions for some likely targets.
"I'll walk y'through the first one or two. Wont need too much on these."
Vennett? Are you in the middle of anything particularly pressing?
[She's gotten up and is gesturing him over to her terminal, since she doesn't have printout permission.]
So you have assigned me two main tasks. Type one being repeat mission identification, type two being drop point creation. The results for the latter type have been decent, but my progress on the former...
[She brings up a spreadsheet in Exsiliumcel... a long one, containing many recent missions. After a few clicks it's sorted by country, then city - and there's a frequency column with "1" as the value in almost every row.]
The problem is that the transports keep choosing different locations... whether out of personal desire and familiarity, the nature of the supplies in question, or the rare case that they're actually changing discrete historical events. I've gotten some progress on techniques for New York City, but that's one of the only sufficiently popular locations.
[Vennett shook his head. Nothing that couldn't wait. The larger missions had already been programmed in first thing that morning. He drifted over at her beckoning, leaning against the side of her desk as she brings up the spreadsheet.]
Las Vegas is fair t'popular too.
[But still, he got her point.] Y'lookin' for somethin' more involved to do?
[She shrugged.] I was wondering if alternatively you might want me to look into encouraging my peers to select repeat locations more often, but if you have other work I'd love to do it.
Vennett!! Are you alive? I am not entirely sure what's going on anymore, but if this is all over that sounds very promising for you not being dead without constituting a guarantee? I'll be in to help handle the return rush as soon as I can but I wanted to know in advance whether you'd still be breathing when I got there.
[There were some times, especially early in that he'd wondered exactly how far the mutiny went. It was easy to slide down that paranoid rabbit hole and doubt everything and everyone. He didn't really mean to be as relieved at that unusually urgent tone from her.]
Alive an' kickin.' Don't rush on down, kid. I'm eyin' a shower an' some proper sleep before I get back on that pile.
Okay. Okay... I could really go for a pile of nice soft objects instead of flat ones myself. There are a lot of people I should be contacting. Maybe - tomorrow would be better for both of us.
Hello, Mr. Vennett. I'm Roslyn Small with the police force. I'd like to speak to you about recent events if that would be possible and specifically the consequences for the mutineers.
Aint got a problem. Just sos you know, I aint the end all an' be all of decision makin'.
[And they hadn't talked about it yet. Last night was for the creature comforts of soothing nerves and reestablishing normalcy. And some well deserved sleep.]
[There's a pause as Vennett catches himself. About to placidly correct that they would be making the decision... ... You know, this is probably the first step. Rosalyn only hears a slight exhale.]
If y'want t'honest like truth? I think they had a good point an' all. But did it t'most cocksure stupid way I coulda ever imagined. Nothin' they talked about weren't shit we wouldn't agreed on if they'd come t'talk without t'weapons.
They were lookin' t'convince t'higher ups and had piss of a clue that there weren't none alive anymore. Then they were lookin' t'unite you all.
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