then, one day, i was not alone

[corkscrewed]

» WHO? Martin Blackwood, Jonathan Sims, & anyone else!
» WHEN? Mid-May.
» WHERE? Crew quarters (closed) & observation deck (open.)
» WHAT? Martin looks for his boss and probably also talks to strangers.
» WARNINGS? Probably at least one discussion about a bloody pipe murder.

CREW QUARTERS (closed)

Martin is still faintly sure that this has to be some sort of weird fever dream, or maybe a much-delayed reaction to spending so much time in the tunnels beneath the Institute. Waking up here had been terrifying, but he'd gotten over it if only because he had no choice. So he'd collected himself and his strange new outfit, found a room of his own, and had finally begun skimming through the network on the weird little communication device he'd been given.

Answers. He'd hoped for answers, and he'd found Jon, and that felt like it had to mean something.

Which is why he's now on Deck Five with no idea where to go from here. "Jon?" he calls out hesitantly, trying to clumsily queue up Jon's contact on the comms device again. "I'm here," he sort of just shouts outside the doors to the crew quarters.

OBSERVATION DECK (open)

There's a tall young man standing right up at the window, not quite pressed against it - but nearly. He watches the planet that the station orbits, and there's something nervously pale about his face. Despite his clear uneasiness with this situation as a whole, he'll still offhandedly greet literally anyone who comes within earshot of him.

"You think there's anyone down there? On the planet, I mean. Not that I really buy into the whole 'aliens' thing, but I wouldn't have bought into 'kidnapped to space with a ship full of strangers' before this morning, either, right?" He's very English and a little desperately earnest, even if he doesn't pull his eyes immediately away from the window.

Comments

[corkscrewed]

"What? Oh my God." Martin stares at him, speechlessly horrified, before he says the most naive thing he's said all day: "Who's running the Institute now if Elias is in jail?"

[question]

Jon stares at him for a beat and then laughs, low but not particularly sane, and very, very tired. "Elias Bouchard is still Head of the Institute and, despite his little denouement, a free man."

[corkscrewed]

"But he's a murderer. You can't just murder someone in cold blood and still get to keep your job." Martin isn't arguing, at least; he trusts that if Jon says it, then it's the truth. That doesn't make it easier for him to wrap his head around, however. "The Magnus Institute isn't really above the law."

[question]

"Isn't it?" Jon asks bitterly. "Detective Tonner was right there when he confessed. We all were. But he has the police in his pocket and he has us... well. There's only one way to leave the Institute, it seems."

Though then he glances about the room, the sheer strangeness of it being a space ship cabin shaking hum out of his black humour a little. "Two now, I suppose."

[corkscrewed]

"And she didn't- what do you mean, one way-" But he cuts himself off each time, aborting both sentences. "I, um, sorry. Hopefully I'll get my memory back soon so I won't have to ask you things."

He has so many more, but he's already beyond overwhelmed, so he tries to ground himself here. "What happened to your hand? How'd you end up, uh, with the glue and all?"

[question]

"It's fine, Martin," Jon says tiredly, mostly because he knows that if he had lost his memory and had too many questions about everything he would be far more peevish and far more demanding. "I meant that Tim was right. We can't leave, not in the way of a normal job. You die, or you — wake up on board a spaceship."

Answering that question because he. Doesn't want to talk about his fingers. Since the answer is 'I was an idiot'.

[corkscrewed]

"Just because Gertrude died doesn't mean we've all got targets on our backs, Jon." But even this is a slightly touchy subject, and Martin seems to regret speaking the moment the words are out of his mouth. There's no way he'll ever forget the way Jon had cocooned himself in paranoia.

"But- anyway. Maybe the others will show up soon. That'd be nice, wouldn't it?"

[question]

"No, Martin, that would not be nice." Jon can never let anything be just nice. "What would be nice would be finding a way to get home and get back to work."

[corkscrewed]

"We could- take statements here?" Martin is hesitant but sincere. "We could probably find a tape recorder somewhere. I'm so glad you come back to the Institute. I've only read one statement and I really haven't been keen on doing any more."

[question]

"That's not why I want to—" Jon breaks off, looking puzzled at Martin. "You. Read a statement." His tone of voice is not particularly charitable. "One of the... one of the tape recorder ones. A statement. You."

[corkscrewed]

"Yes?" Martin isn't exactly sure what it is that offends him about Jon's tone of voice, but his shoulders lift a little defensively. "Elias says they still need to be done while you're gone. Tim refuses and Sasha, um, hasn't shown back up yet, so... "

He's self-conscious, but trying not to show it. "I didn't do a bad job."

[question]

"Hm." Jon sounds... dubious is putting it kindly, really. His eyes narrow, accusatory. "You never told me that." He wonders how many more Martin had recorded and forgotten. He doesn't like the idea of it at all, and wouldn't it be nice if it was just professional certainty that Martin wasn't up to scratch, or even nicer, concern for how rough the process could be. (Was, once, for him. Less so, now.)

But no. It's not really about Martin at all. The statements were his. And he'd taken them dutifully, even in his absence, even when it drove Georgie mad to come home and find him with the tape recorder and his laptop and one of those damnable yellow envelopes.

[corkscrewed]

"Probably only ever did the one," Martin says, and completely dismissive of the dubious look that Jon is giving him. "Which is just fine with me, honestly. It was... harrowing."

Martin pauses, then, glancing around Jon's quarters, before he gives him a sheepish sort of look. "I very nearly just tried to offer you tea. This is going to take some adjusting to, isn't it?"

[question]

Harrowing indeed. Jon sighs harshly. "I could definitely use a cup of tea. However the food here seems to be generated from machines, I don't know if you've read any Douglas Adams," or seen the Hitch-hiker's film you weird book snob, "But I'm not willing to risk it." Based on that book's spaceship shutting down trying to make a perfect cup of English Breakfast. Yes.

(This is a joke, it's just a very convoluted and bad one.)

"Have you explored much?" Because Jon has, searching for the mythical library. "It's all very... grimy."

[corkscrewed]

This, right here, is the reason why Martin has never realized that Jon is capable of making jokes: the delivery is so poor that he just tends to assume that the Archivist is being dead serious.

"I haven't really, no. I mean, mostly I just found a room, and then I spent some time on the observation deck, and - what solar system are we even in?"

He pauses, and then: "No one is going to believe our statements when we get home, are they."

[question]

Ah, more optimism. Jon smiles grimly but doesn't challenge it. "It's not about anyone believing them, surely you know that by now. Just keep documenting what you can, however you can, and if we do go back hopefully we'll be able to bring it all with us."

At the very least, the impulse to record this is more the part of him that loves science and would like to contribute something to the world, than the big Beholding tapeworm that forces him to consume knowledge for its dread purposes or whatever.

"I think it's important to get the stories of the people here. It's certainly a mixed bunch."

[corkscrewed]

"I'll definitely ask around, then. Keep an ear out, at the very least." He drops his hands awkwardly into his lap, not really sure what to do with them - it wasn't as if he and Jon spent much time together without the buffer of work between them, and he finally stands up.

He can't believe he actually sort of misses the Institute.

"Well, you know how to reach me if you need me. I guess we're technically housemates now, huh? In a... broad way."

[question]

"Martin K," Jon says again — he hadn't really had the space to be properly amused/bemused by that affectation yet. "Yes. Well. I'm not particularly attached to this room, if you'd prefer to be closer." They could be Neighbours, like the TV show. Everybody needs good neighbours.

[corkscrewed]

"Can we do that?" he sounds a little hopeful at the suggestion. "Move rooms, I mean. My door opens to this." He lifts his arm to indicate the communicator wristband. "You think there's a way to transfer? I accidentally took a pretty big room, anyway."

[question]

"I suppose we can only find out." Jon wasn't exactly Martin's biggest fan, but it was strangely reassuring to hear the voice of someone familiar from home, and he doesn't want to have to travel to a different deck just to hear it — even if he also doesn't want to leave the floor he's speculating will have the library, if they can get to it.

"But for now," he says, since Martin looks about to head off, having no doubt has his fill of Jon giving him unpleasant answers to unpleasant questions. "You know how to reach me."

[corkscrewed]

"I'll ask around. See if anyone else has moved rooms," he suggests, and stands from where he'd been seated awkwardly at the desk. "It's... really good to talk to you again, Jon," he says then. "Even if I've apparently forgotten a lot of things. I'm really glad you're here."

And that he hadn't killed Jurgen Leitner. But he knows that Jon doesn't do the sentimental thing, so he ducks out then before he can have a book thrown at him.

[question]

Good plan, honestly. Jon has no idea how to respond appropriately to that sentiment.

However it's later (the next day? Some indeterminate space ship time period? After Martin's met a whole lot of new CR and not a moment later?) when he sends Martin a text using their communicators.

Worked out how to use the console in the room. Can move my entire two possessions a little closer if you'll tell me your floor/room number.

[corkscrewed]

You actually want to move closer to me?

He doesn't mean for that to come off as - accusatory, really, as it sounds. It just happens that way.

[question]

We're on a spacecraft that may only have a limited amount of fuel to support us, not to mention the possibility of the same sort of nonsense as plagued us back home having some effect here, or the potential threat of the nearby planet. I'd like to be able to reach you quickly in an emergency.

[corkscrewed]

That's probably a good idea, right. One second.

He hasn't actually memorized his room number.

It's 3.05? I think one of the rooms next to mine is free.

Martin is just so used to Jon being - well, tetchy and downright paranoid, honestly, that this is all a very pleasant surprise.