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[naismith]

[A man appears on the network of indeterminate age, extremely short-- under five feet tall, easily-- with a slight hunch to his posture and Germanic features. His eyes are sharply alive, bright with challenge. There's no hesitation as he speaks, in a gravelly kind of accent that sounds almost Russian, the words flowing quickly as he makes them up on the spot.

Right now, he desperately needs intel of all kinds, and eventually a spotter to watch him while he uses his seizure inducer. That fact he's assiduously ignoring. He'd checked his neurotransmitter levels this morning, and he has at least three days, even with all the stress of arrival. No, four days, probably. Five. Really, he can go a lot longer without one than the ImpSec medical staff had given him credit for. --Focus, Vorkosigan.]

So. I see you all have quite a neat set up here. Let's not waste time. Who can bring me up to speed, ex tempore? Surely we have more intelligence than "don't say its name" on our bogey man. Since confirmed facts are likely to be scarce, personal accounts would be acceptable.

I'm also taking proposals for getting miserably drunk at the bar, as is traditional in times of drawn out peril. I need someone to drag me home, y'see; alcohol has quite a soporific effect on my constitution. [And Ivan is unfortunately not here to do the dragging. Miles ignores the resulting pang that inspires in him.

Then he hesitates imperceptibly, the memory of his previous catastrophic failure to report his seizures clanging loudly through his brain. No. He can't ignore this, much as he'd like to. The only thing that scares Miles more than never going home is turning into a vegetable, mindless and drooling. He can at least do the preliminary investigation about options.]

Information about local medical facilities would be appreciated as well. They're not all-- er, at this level of technology, are they? [He looks dubious about anyone surviving on that level of medical care, but immediately recovers with a wide, convincing smile.] I'd just like to know preemptively for when I wake up with a skull splitting headache.

Comments

[isnotokay]

You can't have enough people yet to put eyes on all of them anyway.

[ Annie says this crisply, not critically, but just as if it were a simple assessment. In reality, though, she wonders if he has more resources. He's already spoken favorably with Reiner, and there's no telling who else out there might be interested in seeing what direction this man was moving in.

It's an artless effort on her part, but duplicity wasn't her style with some extreme exceptions. ]

Scoping out a few would be all you need for now, right?

[naismith]

Sadly correct, [Miles sighs.] You're my most promising prospective accomplice yet, but you'd be wasted playing guard duty to a turtle. No, I have another plan, don't worry.

[Though he matches her bluntness, he doesn't reveal what said plan is yet. That's just good policy, keeping people on a need to know basis. Also, Miles likes being secretive. It's in his blood at this point.]

Scoping will do for now. Here, this way. [He makes a left turn further into Earth sector.]

[isnotokay]

[ Annie inclines her head once more, hooking a thumb in the pocket of her hooded sweatshirt as she moves along with him. It offers a more casual, uncaring cast to her posture as she stalks along beside him which, in turn, somehow manages to soften her critical, roving gaze. Her focus settles on one person or another once in a while as she evaluates potential threats, but a significant portion of her attention never leaves Miles.

Though he is clearly little to no threat on a physical level, that does not mean he isn't outrageously dangerous all on his own. Her pale blue eyes are always cool, but they had brightened somewhat at the suggestion that he has gone as far as develop something of a plan. It could be a lie-- though she doesn't doubt she would make an appealing confederate in some scheme. That's satisfying, not to her ego but rather for the fact that she knows she needs some useful person. In a way, the non-answer gains some measure of approval from her though there is very little that escapes her carefully controlled mien when she has something approaching balance. ]

[naismith]

[It really does feel like having a bodyguard, which is a sensation so familiar to Miles he almost doesn't notice that it's happening now. He wants fervently to secure her commitment to his cause in more certain terms, but she's not alone here, and she must have multiple interests and obviously has an autonomous mind. He has to be patient; hawks take a long time to train, and even then tame isn't the right word. She's half Bothari, but the other half is Elli Quinn, his spacer who would never be pushed anywhere she didn't want to go.

That is, of course, half the reason he's so bloody interested in her.

Miles outlines the description of the place they're going to survey as they walk at a steady clip. Slow enough not to attract attention, fast enough to mean business. It's a pace he assumes instinctively. As they go, his unconscious air of command deepens, altogether without him thinking about it. This kind of mission is so familiar to him-- almost as familiar as having a bodyguard-- that he relaxes into it, right at home.]

It looks fairly unprotected, [he says in a slightly quieted voice. They're standing on a rooftop, which they'd gotten access to after a bit of fast talking on Miles's part, Annie his stoic shadow through the lies. A turtle the size of a small house doesn't have a lot of places it can be kept covertly, and this one that I've made up is situated on the rooftop of the neighboring building, a large form with a dark, gleaming shell.]

And obvious, damn it. Have these people never been at war? [Miles is thoroughly dissatisfied with this cavalier approach. He doesn't expect anyone to be as paranoid as him, but they could at least make an attempt.]

[isnotokay]

[ This serves her purposes well enough that Annie has no problem following behind him. It's easy to get caught up in how he moves. Whether she can consider herself either soldier or warrior anymore, she's been trained a certain way and she responds to those physical cues from him just as much as she absorbs his briefing of their goal.

Yes, she thinks as they survey the great turtle. She might be able to use him yet. If a chance existed they could gain any kind of advantage in their efforts here to blend into the population and possibly even gain some tactical advantages, they they had to be worth taking. ]

Looks so. Maybe they trust their walls.

[ Annie's tone rarely changes, but she still manages to pitch her words slightly differently-- there's certainly no way her voice would carry past his ears alone. This serves her purposes well enough to go along with it, and she's not hesitant to offer her observations. She's been here longer, after all, and that doubtlessly counts for something. She's still dubious about the idea that there is an invisible wall out surrounding the great gigantic turtle they live on, but she's had to accept it. ]

There's something wrong with them, you know. The people here. How they can act as if the gate hasn't already been kicked in...

[ It's very specific terminology, but it's spoken as if that might be a turn of phrase she's familiar with. ]

Not even peaceful people are so ignorant.

[naismith]

Walls? [he echoes incredulously.] I know this is a low tech level, but what about aerial assaults? There must be some magic that equates to that.

[Professional mercenary commander as he is, Miles has a clinical disapproval that is obvious in his response, though he keeps his voice pitched low like hers. He seems to fall into talking out the situation with her naturally, accepting her input with an easy back and forth.]

Maybe not ignorant. Maybe just wishful thinking. [He squints in assessment at the distant figure, looking for routes.] That vertical maneuvering gear Braun mentioned, do you have a set with you? Not now, just in general.

[isnotokay]

Magic. [ Now that one word carries disdain. She is so tired of magic-- a category that encompasses electricity at this point. ] I've heard the wall is eighty kilometers out as a radius. Invisible.

[ She glances to the sky briefly, clearly turning something over in her head. She could only assume that encompassed the sky, given there were people that could actually properly fly. For a moment, it might seem like she's not going to address his direct question about her gear. Once in a while, she just doesn't seem to sync up in conversation, but then she answers. ]

Reiner talks too much. I have it.

[ There's no harm in admitting it when she'd effectively done as much on the network almost a month ago. Her agitation with him is hypocritical. It's less that he talked about their available tools and more the fact that it was Reiner talking. ]

[naismith]

[He rolls his eyes in agreement at her disdain. It's all ridiculous to him, too, but those are the rules and damn if Miles is going to lose because he doesn't like them.] An invisible barrier? Hmm. [Like a force shield, he supposes, catching her skyward glance.] But Mally's penetrated the city in the past-- I know it has. I have to wonder exactly what function this barrier serves.

[He flicks her an assessing glance at her admission, too caught up in his own thoughts to notice any strangeness.] Is that sensitive information? I won't repeat it if it is. Anyway, how would you feel about a mission, soldier girl? Undefined time but near in the future, risk level low, espionage based.

[This question is itself a test, seeing how much she's willing to cooperate with him. If she doesn't want to accept a mission from him, then he'll understand. Well, no, he won't, but it'll make sense and he'll reevaluate his strategy before trying again. For now, she seems to do well with the direct approach.]

[isnotokay]

It's not sensitive.

[ But sometimes she worries about what could be sensitive slipping through. Not the most important parts, no, but there were those moments and flickers where Reiner started being someone else and empathized with humans far too much. He was reliable most of the time, one of exactly three people she can trust and it's an especially rare group to be a part of when the third of that number was a man she'd never see again.

When balanced against Annie's almost pathological tendency towards secrecy, it made her uncomfortable. Talking about their combat capabilities was a good lure, though, she had to admit. More important, now, she seems to weigh his question.

Without coordinating directly, they might just reel in someone with potential. ]

Espionage is a broad category. [ But it's one she's comfortable with, and she wonders what he might be assuming about her skill set. Wetwork or other dirty jobs as an MP, maybe. Her heavy-lidded gaze settles fully on him. ] I'm interested, but I won't offer charity.

[ Which isn't the same as saying she necessarily needs paid in cash. ]

[naismith]

[What Miles is assuming about her skill set is that she's frightfully competent-- Braun had said it's only the top ten candidates, and reminding him of Bothari and Quinn is no casual recommendation-- and used to acting independently, if she's meant to police the people that regularly fight frankly absurdly large titans. Even if that weren't true, he's presuming ability and will continue to so presume until she proves otherwise. That gets better results than the opposite approach, he knows from experience.

He catches immediately that she's not necessarily looking for money.] It's contingent on something else pulling through, but if it does, you'd be planting a small device on the turtles, [he explains, going for broke.] I'll take half.

If you agree, I'll include you in any opportunities I find to fight the enemy. [He levels a knowing look at her.] That's what you really want, isn't it? [It also conveniently gets him exactly what he wants: her agreement to future cooperation. He's just trying to sell it to her as something for her benefit. Take the bait.]

[isnotokay]

[ That's what she wants, it's true. Annie can't see a better situation than if they were able to join up with someone scrambling to get themselves started, get in on the ground level, and get something done to fight this enemy. Miles is sharp, and he is in the ways that they don't have in their corner right now. With Armin out there, there was no telling when something might happen and none of them were strategically clever enough to counteract him.

Their only defense lay in taking action, and if they could do it while integrating themselves as part of a whole with a person that understood that way of thinking then it was all the better. More than that, however, is that Annie craves purpose. She's not a person that stays idle for any length of time. There was only one place where she felt like a real, living person and that was in combat.

This was nothing like properly fighting, but it still presented the start of a possible challenge. ]

You're not wrong, so we'll see if you work out.

[ There's a more lively way that she holds herself now, though it's a subtle change. An uncharitable comparison might be to a hunting dog aware it's about to get let off its leash, but she can hardly help that anticipatory feeling. They might yet obtain something they need for once. ]

[naismith]

[Yes. Yes! The sharp swell of relief he feels is nearly overpowering. He's not alone, he's not directionless. If Annie is resentful of being purposeless, Miles is terrified of it. Nothing haunts his nightmares so much as being useless and forgettable. Annie might think this is a contingent acceptance, with something held in reservation, but Miles has had wholehearted acceptance vanishingly rarely in his life. Give him one centimeter and he'll go a kilometer. He's only ever had life hand him centimeters to work with, and counts them preciously.

Of course, he knows the reason his bribe that wasn't a bribe had worked is because it is what she wants. He'd never have ventured it if he wasn't reasonably certain that it was. Being proven right in his skill at reading people is, as always, a thrill for him. He hasn't lost his touch, and this confirms it.

He restrains his sense of victory to a look of intent fervor, his eyes narrowly focused on her, impressing his earnestness.] I won't let you down, [he says with the tone of a vow.] I'm good at this, Annie, I promise you. I commanded a fleet of mercenaries for thirteen years, [he says wildly, forgetting any misguided attempt at secrecy,] surely I can handle even this.

You won't regret this chance.

[Miles has no realistic way of promising that, none at all, but he doesn't care. He's promised it before and no matter how often he's been foresworn, it won't stop him from promising it again. All of his manipulation is backed by a fiercely altruistic desire to save others, to right wrongs. To be, as his mother had put it, a knight-errant. But a knight must be beholden to someone, and in the absence of absolutely anyone else, he is frantically relieved to have a new group to adopt to be beholden to. He will prove himself worthy. There has never been another option; Miles has never made contingency plans for failure.]

[isnotokay]

[ There's a little bit of new information tucked away to keep in mind there. It doesn't sound deliberately dropped, but she knows her own limitations in reading people that she would sooner just default to being suspicious. To have had a private army under his own command at some point means that he has some more potential than she'd expected if it's true.

Even if it isn't, she's evaluating him on his own merits here and not on anything he could reference in his past. She lets out a soft, short sigh in response to his assertion that she won't regret it. In Annie's mind, there's no way he could believe he could possibly honestly offer that as a promise.

And had she, in that moment, she might have just bolted. She's not above working with madmen, but anything so much as faintly smacking of altruism makes for an entirely different kind of beast. ]

Maybe.

[naismith]

[Miles is expecting, of course, that he'll be evaluated only on his performance here. And that's how he's thinking of it: as a performance. He feels like Naismith again, but not; maybe some new incarnation of Naismith, the stomach-dropping free fall of relief and panic indistinguishable from one another.

Forward momentum is the only answer. Just keep going until you can't anymore, and then get up again, and keep on.

The maybe is enough for him. Miles nods sharply in acknowledgement, pushing off from the edge of the rooftop.] I'll contact you when the next step is ready, [he declares, feeling she needs no more grandstanding. He offers her a lazy salute as he walks off toward the stairs, an ImpSec analyst's vague wave toward his brow.]