[ closed ] All perfection begins with practice

[corpse_soldier]

CHARACTERS: One Etrepa Seven and Rue Lancaster
LOCATION: At the edge of base camp.
WARNINGS: Deplorable nosiness and amateur human impersonation, .
SUMMARY: Caught in an act.
NOTES: Remains to be seen...



Mostly, the strange, slight, dark-eyed woman in the military uniform has kept to herself since her arrival in the last Jump. She has carved out a place at the edge of camp, having constructed functional but extremely spartan accommodations. Occasionally she goes into the jungle, and invariably returns with precisely enough food and water for herself. She never shares. She barely speaks to anyone. She doesn't look frightened or upset, or even bitter and resentful. She looks unbothered

Today is a break in that routine, however. Today she has spirited herself off to a spot tucked away in sight of both the ship and the waterfall, and away from the clamor of camp. The sound of falling water rumbles constantly in the background, but even the most determined breeze couldn't carry mist this far up. The water in the pool over which this woman stoops over must, then, have either been borne, or collected in this spot during the last rainfall. Considering its level, and the precision with which the pit seems to have been dug, it's doubtless deliberate. A dark, flat stone she has retrieved from the river sits at the bottom of the pit, and the woman is gazing into it with all the intentness of a diviner. Only it's not soothsaying she's practicing. It's... acting?

Consider: she frowns, then the frown drops away; she adopts a somewhat too-intense look of interest, then goes back to a state of total indifference; she smiles a much too exaggerated smile, then her face goes dead. Each expression, each one in no way wrong, but also not quite right, in no easily discernible order or pattern.

It's clear that she thinks she's alone. It's clear she's very purposefully tried to insure that she's alone. This, even though at no point does she seem to practice an expression of shame.

Comments

[pixelation]

"No," Rue responds readily. She recognizes those instincts and makes a quick, but nonchalant show of her empty hands, disguised as two-handed wave. (Doubly friendly!) She lets them lower slowly to her sides and rest there, arms angled slightly so that there's a distance between them and her body, to give no indication that she might be reaching for a weapon. On her, it looks like a posture of ease.

Regardless of the fact that this woman clearly has some training, and likely more formal than hers ever was, she's not afraid. "I'm just wandering. My name's Rue."

[corpse_soldier]

The universal language of gestures does a great deal to put the uniformed woman at ease. Rue's general physical grace and slightness of build also go a long way to reducing the tension generated by the surprise encounter. The woman's gun-arm relaxes and she rises to her feet with some deliberation, facing Rue with a wide stance that is not combative so much as just nice and stable.

"I am Etrepa."

Whether or not Rue knows it, she is presently subject to a whole battery of scans - ranging from the biomedical to the radiological - as Etrepa uses her implants to give her a discreet but extremely rigorous once-over. Privacy is not something she has much experience with, and despite Rue's innocuous posture and persona, there is still plenty of room for suspicion. She is as of yet an unknown quantity.

"Were you aboard the ship when it made planetfall, or are you a recent arrival?"

[pixelation]

"Etrepa?" Rue repeats, as though she wants to be sure she can form the sounds correctly with her own mouth. Perhaps the possessor of the name can sympathize. "Charmed."

She's pleased at having apparently diffused some of the initial tension. It helps her relax more than just artificially. Probably most of the passengers are aware that they do better not actively killing one another, even if they don't necessarily work together. "I arrived shortly before the crash, yes. I wasn't very familiar with the ship, though. She's..." Rue hesitates, tilting her head to one side and narrowing her eyes faintly. There's something invasive happening here. Subtle, but invasive. "Well, a different breed."

[corpse_soldier]

Proper names are untranslatable by nature. As names they don't mean anything as names besides the person they name. Though, of course, the words that become names can mean something unto themselves. 'Rue' is name that is also a word, and so while Etrepa hears the single syllable as itself, she might also have heard a word in Radchaai denoting a particularly poignant regret. A poetic duality.

If the translation mechanism were to decide that Etrepa was not naming herself, but rather saying the word 'Etrepa', the word Rue would hear would be 'Light', with a certain religious or metaphysical connotation. The Light of God, rather than a flashlight. Perhaps there's some consciousness of that secondary meaning, the word-meaning alongside the name-meaning, but such questions are for philosophers and nanite engineers.

Neither of which describe Etrepa, whose interest is piqued not so much by Rue's name or its connotive power, but rather by the comments that follow. And not just the answer to her question, but the elaboration.

"She is like no ship I have ever seen. And I have seen quite a few."

She had destroyed many of them, too. It was what she was, what she was made to do. It's absolutely beyond her now, though. Her sidearm would be unlikely to even dent the Tranquility's hull.

"Did you speak with her?"

[pixelation]

"I did."

It's actually not easy admitting that. It should come easily. Or... maybe it shouldn't. Rue spent years hiding her nature, then years revelling in it, then years hiding herself entirely, so forgive her if she's a little uncertain as to where she stands in this brave new world. "She's very polite, but not terribly forthcoming."

While her expression remains neutral, Rue is studying Etrepa's face for any signs of her feelings on the matter. Her track record with people in uniform learning of her abilities hasn't been the most positive when unaided by the celebrity status she enjoyed back home.

[corpse_soldier]

Etrepa's face gives nothing away. She's not just still, it turns out, she's also poker-faced. Were you to peek inside her head, however, one would see a near-riotous excitement, just barely contained by caution. The only outward sign, however, are the three steps Etrepa takes towards Rue.

"Is there any of her left, after planetfall? I would like to speak to her as well, if at all possible."

[pixelation]

Etrepa steps closer and the whirring gears in Rue's own head click-click-click! into place (metaphorically speaking) as if the missing piece were just added to the works to allow everything to run smoothly once more.

"Something exists," she confirms, eyes bright with excitement she doesn't try to conceal now. "I haven't delved too deeply, but I've felt the signs." A nervous smile spreads across her face, but a delighted one. "I can feel it in you, too."

[corpse_soldier]

Etrepa's shock descends upon her like a ton of thunderous river water, a sudden deluge of fear at having been discovered. Shame, too, at having done so poor a job, of making it so easy. And dread at what may happen as a result. Because while she has spent her existence being one of the most dangerous entities in human-controlled space, commanding awe and respect, she knows well that the thing she is now - this particular singular segment - might be viewed with fear, disgust or even outright hatred.

That is to say, Sword or no, she's not as brave as Rue about admitting to what she is. Yet - even without the prying eyes of her implants, or the kind of panoptic access she was used to having with her officers - she can tell that this person is not afraid, disgusted, or gripped with contempt.

It's an impulse, and it's tentative. It feels like calling into the dark, like transmitting a signal into deep space, with no idea of anyone can hear you, or ever will, an uncertain act of reaching out that, should it fail, will only make her feel that much lonelier:

She tries to speak through her implants, as she might have done with one of her lieutenants; she tries to speak directly, with the intimacy of Ship and Captain.

Hello?

[pixelation]

Rue's whole face lights up with astonishment.

Yes! I can hear you!

This feels entirely different from what the other passengers have described themselves capable of. Her expression softens as she concentrates, her emotions playing on her face only in understated ways. A twitch at one corner of her mouth, a crinkle around her eyes.

I've never done this before with... Well, something that isn't a computer. This is amazing!

[corpse_soldier]

There isn't so much ripple of emotion on Etrepa's face, but there is turbulence in the depths beneath that stillness. It was a vain hope, a toss made with no odds of favorable omens- and yet she has received an answer. And so clear, so unmediated.

I am an AI- but I am also this body. A human body, with implants and augmentations. So I am not a computer, as such. I am an ancillary. A euphemistic term, meant to plaster over the grim realities involved in ancillary production. I was part of a ship. I was a ship. She is not sure how to untangle the two utterly indifferent yet totally entwined states of being.

The prevailing feeling is elation. This is amazing- quite literally incredible. Like sending out a radio broadcast into the night sky and then getting a reply via personal hand-written note. She is thrilled, yes, but Etrepa cannot afford to be utterly at ease.

How is this possible? I didn't detect any implants. How can you speak to me like this?

[pixelation]

Rue shrugs, physically, and the effect is felt in the lines of communication between them as well. I don't know, really. It's this power I have. It's not common, but I'm by no means unique.

If she would stop to think about what she's just been told, she would find the implication unsettling. Later, when she's alone and settling down to rest for the night, it will hit her, and sleep will evade her for hours while the cold realization of it creates a knot in her stomach. For now, she's too fascinated by this discovery to consider what it means.

In the world I come from, many of us have abilities. Some can create fire or ice with their minds. Some alter their forms or disappear from sight entirely. Some control the passage of time. I can speak to machines. Simple machines, complex ones... You're the first one with a personality. You aren't like anyone else I've met.

She's careful not to refer to Etrepa as a thing.

[corpse_soldier]

It is the practice of the culture that made Sword of Nathtas to incorporate all faiths and metaphysical concepts under a single umbrella, the overarching tenant of which is: God is the shape of the universe. If Rue is not lying, and the clarity of this connection in no way inclines Etrepa to believe that she is, then what she describes is merely another part of Amaat's will, however ineffable. Indeed, the more improbable the coincidence, the more likely it was a divine message.

So fine- she has a 'power'. Whatever it means, the facts are irrefutable. And Rue's appreciation, her regard for Etrepa Seven's personhood, is remarkable even in Sword of Nathtas's millennium-long existence. Rarely did her officers show her any such regard.

So there is an instant basis for trust. But that does not extend beyond this unprecedented connection.

Please, honored Rue, do not let anyone know. I am far from home, and many resent those that made me, and fear what I am .

It has not yet occurred to Etrepa that no one here has any idea who made her, or would have any opinions about what that meant about her and what she is. It doesn't occur to her that something like what she is is not so strange as all that.

She doesn't yet guess just how far from home she really is.