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Hello, everyone. Miles here, with a few announcements.

I've recently been appointed Personnel Officer aboard the Moira. Handling crew concerns about job assignment and other sundry items is my primary responsibility, as is making personnel recommendations to the captains. If you have any concerns, or you'd like to discuss your current job assignment, or a potential one, I invite you to make an appointment with me or come by my office; it's next to the library. It has also come to my attention that Captain Than has been so thoughtful as to arrange a suggestion box outside my door, so make what use of it you will. For those of who are more accustomed to seeing me at the bar -- I'll still be working there part-time, but I now share the Beverage Dissemination Officer responsibilities with my co-Officer, the esteemed Jacky Faber, so if you don't see me, look for her.

To all crew who are just now joining us: welcome! Sorry about your involuntary conscription to the Moira work force, but at least the accommodations are nice, eh?

And if anyone was concerned about me during my...absence, I'm better now. Nothing to worry about.

Miles out.

[ miles was kind of dead for a week, if any of his CR wants to do something with that let me know! also please submit suggestions (complaints) the suggestions (complaints) box, make miles' job as difficult as possible, by all means ]

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[ So, by the sound of it, the captains must trust this person a lot if they've given him that sort of responsibility, and Steve wants more information than he's been handed. He's not much of a texter though, sorry. ]

Is there any record of what's happened aboard so far? [ Since new people + concerns and all. ]

No public one, as far as I know. But I can certainly give you the highlights.

Three months ago, the first of us arrived here, and things were pretty much as they are now, if a bit quieter. The first planet we docked at seemed alright at first, but things sort of went downhill when the natives decided we'd make for good human sacrifices. Anyway, we got away with no casualties -- the month after was rather a bit quieter, although there were some...well, let's just say that odd things happen on the ship from time to time.

Last month we docked at another planet. After a while, they asked us to leave -- according to them, the crew that manned this ship before us stole something from their planet. We overstayed our welcome, and understandably, they weren't happy about it. There was...an incident. We helped to evacuate as many people as we can, but it didn't exactly end well for the planet. Some casualties, but everyone's back on board.

[ miles decides not to mention the fact that he was one of those casualties to a total stranger. eh, if he pays enough attention he'll figure it out eventually. ]

Hey, I guess I'd like to make an appointment with you, or something?

[ Man, even over text, Wash is awkward. But this is important!! He needs to talk to this guy and get some idea of how to do his job before it becomes too clear to everyone that he has literally no idea what he's doing. ]

I kind of heard you were the Sanitation Technician before me. I'm, uh. I could kind of use some help with the job. With things like what it entails, and...that sort of thing.

[ ah, so here's the latest poor sucker to get slapped with sanitation. miles feels for you, wash, he really does. and while he'd rather never set foot in that dank, wet dungeon of a place again, he had been thrown into the job with absolutely zero training. it'd be a crime to let someone else have to learn everything the hard way. ]

Ah, so you're the new Waste Disposal Tech, are you? My sincerest condolences, it...sure is an assignment. You'd hope that one of these days we'd get an actual plumber to put on the job. But sure, I can help you. It'd be an act of cruelty not to train you, frankly.

Why don't you come by my office? I can go over the basics with you, and then we'll take a trip down to Sanitation to have a look. The least I can do is give you the prep I didn't have for the job.

[ Wow, that's...a lot more helpful than he'd even hoped for. Wash kind of stares at the message for a few long minutes in surprise before shaking himself out of it and finally replying. ]

Really? That'd be great, actually. I'd really appreciate it! I'll head down to your office right away then, as long as you're really sure about it.

[ Really, he should just jump at the opportunity and head down without waiting for further confirmation, but he doesn't want to burden the guy or anything. He'd rather make sure Miles is really sure about getting himself into the whole thing before making any move. ]

[ oh, boy. wash sounds about as fresh-faced as some of the greenest trainees he's met in his mercenary fleet. miles anticipates this might actually take a bit of work on his part. still, miles appreciates his earnest spirit. you can't teach that. ]

Well, it is my job. Besides, you have a position crucial to the operations and maintenance of this ship. If waste disposal isn't properly managed and Sanitation maintained on a daily basis, the water recycling system will eventually start to malfunction and dump gray water into -- well, let's just say we'd all prefer our potable water to stay potable.

Yeah... Fair enough. All right then, I'm on my way. The sooner you can teach me this stuff, the better from the sounds of it.

[ He sure wants the water to stay, you know, not gross. So, after sending the text, Wash gets up from his seat on his bed and exits his room. It takes him a little time to locate the Personnel Office, but once he does, Wash is on his way there.

Dressed today in his standard lower-class uniform as opposed to his armour, trying to fit in a little better, he soon approaches the door and knocks on it. It's a slightly tentative knock, if only because he knows he's going to be learning a lot really quickly and god what happens if he doesn't remember it all??? He's just stressed and anxious, really.

Still, he also adds in a quick call out to the man presumably on the other side of the door. ]

Miles? It's, uh. It's Wash. The new Waste Disposal guy?

Come in, the door's open.

[ miles cals from inside the office. bless this kid, he does try to be polite.

when wash enters to meet the personnel officer in person, he's probably not what wash was expecting to see. miles is hardly what one would imagine when thinking of a soldier, let alone an officer -- at a meager high of only 4'9, crooked spine and all, miles has his desk chair raised so that he's at eye level with anyone who might sit across from him. he has a rather large head on a short neck, his face prematurely aged from the pain lines around his mouth and the laugh lines at his eyes. on mutant-paranoid barrayar, he tends to attract unkind stares and superstitious gestures, although he'll tell anyone who'll listen that his appearance has nothing to do with his genes. he's a pretty lean little guy, although he's looking a little extra gaunt, still, from his recent brush with death. well, his recent...death. ]

[ Nodding to no one but himself, Wash pushes the door open and steps inside. Shuffles inside, more like. His gaze immediately goes to the desk where Miles is sitting, and...yeah, his appearance is a surprise, for sure. Not what he was expecting from an officer on the ship--not even a personnel officer. But he does his best not to judge a book by the cover--the guy was nice enough to offer to show him the ropes, after all.

Standing a little straighter, Wash offers a small smile. It's small, but it's friendly, if also...nervous. He himself is a bit baby-faced, but the way he holds himself comes off very soldier-like. Continuing to eye Miles for another half-second, Wash finally speaks again. ]

Thanks for this. I don't know what I'd do without some pointers at the very least. I've never worked with sanitation in my life.

[ Insert short, nervous laughter here. ]

[ there's always a tension in miles when someone lays eyes on him for the first time, waiting for their reaction, always ready to challenge some poor evaluation. he relaxes minutely when wash doesn't make a comment on his appearance, tilting his head to give wash a discreet once-over. the kid is, in fact, not all that much younger than miles himself, though miles' command experience is disproportionate to his age, to be fair. he doesn't much seem like the assertive type. ]

I can sympathize. Neither had I, when I first got here, and I wasn't so lucky as to have a predecessor to train me. [ there's an amused tone to his voice. he gestures at the seats in front of the desk. ] Please, have a seat.

[ he taps the personnel file on his desk in front of him. ] So I noticed that you're listed as Washington in the MID directory, but your file has your first name as David. Is Washington a surname, or -- ?

That doesn't sound fun.

[ A small smile twists at Wash's lips and, at the gesture, he steps further into the room. Sitting down in one of the chairs opposite Miles, he finally gives the office a quick glance before his attention is drawn back to the other man. ]

Oh. Oh, that-- [ He's a little thrown, hearing his real name. Shows how long he's been going by Wash. ] Well, no, actually. Washington is my codename. I'm with a military program back home and we all have state names as codenames. I'm more used to going by Washington or Wash at this point than I am David, but they wanted at least a first name when I was being examined after arriving here.

[ A little laugh, short an nervous, escapes him and he rubs the back of his head. Is it considered weird around here? To go by a codename instead of his real name? Should he be switching back to David while he's here? So many questions run through his mind as he sits there, waiting for Miles' response, it's ridiculous. ]

[ miles tries not to let his incredulity show on his face. this kid? this kid, admittedly only a few years younger than miles, is not only military, but the kind of military where they exclusively use codenames? no. no way. maybe wash is secretly some military genius, but miles is hard-pressed to imagine him handling any firefight with composure. he's so diffident. he's so...nervous. miles can't imagine he's that intimidating. ]

Not particularly, no. [ he taps wash's file again thoughtfully, giving him a long look. ] So, Wash -- what kind of miltary program?

[ this has no bearing on wash's waste disposal training, but miles is happy to let him think it's some sort of interview question. he just really needs to hear the story with wash's military career. ]

[ The focus on his career is...surprising, admittedly. Wash had figured they'd get straight to talking about the job he's going to have here, but... Hell, maybe his background is kind of important. ...Somehow. For some odd reason. He's not generally one to question someone who's probably(?) a superior. Not in most cases, at least. ]

Technically it's classified. [ Head tilt. He considers this for a second. ] But I guess that doesn't matter much here, does it? I mean, if we're not all from the same place...

[ He feels like he's going against protocol if he's going to talk about Freelancer, but at the same time feels like he's disobeying if he doesn't give some kind of proper response. Dilemma. ]

It's kind of a last-action Project in an effort to save the human race. The goal is to produce supersoldiers, without physically augmenting them like another program where I'm from does. They took the best soldiers they could find, and...trained us hard. Then they...

[ This is where he fumbles, because this is the part that reminds him of Epsilon. Of screaming on the floor before being sedated. Of seeing her face flash before his eyes near every time be blinks. ]

...They implanted the best of us with artificial intelligences. To make us better. Faster, smarter, that sort of thing. It's, uhm. It's a highly specialized and experimental program, to put it lightly.

[ oh my god. is he joking? he must be joking. no, he's...totally serious. this kid -- awkward, nervous, tryhard wash -- he's a secret galactic operative of some kind? no one really takes miles for a covert ops agent at first glance, either, but at least he's got his wits about him. miles mostly keeps the incredulous look off his face -- mostly -- and he tilts his head with raised eyebrows. ]

Hold on, back up. One -- artificial intelligence implants? Two -- save the human race?

[ come on, wash, make with the explanations. miles could mention to him that he's under absolutely no obligation to tell miles any of this -- that miles is keeping his own classified occupation very much so -- but if wash is smart enough he'll cotton on to that himself. ]

[ Wash blinks for a second when he's told to back up, only to then realize that these things must sound pretty weird to someone...not from where he's from. ]

Uh, yeah. Right now we're at war with this cult of aliens who want to eradicate the human race. And they're kind of winning so far. [ That much he doesn't mind sharing. That much is common knowledge back home. But the AI implants... ]

And one... Artificial intelligences. Computer programs? Based on a human mind. They can do so much on their own, so if you combine them with a soldier...

[ He trails off, not getting remotely into his own experience or the process or anything like that. His hands are already shaking as he talks about AIs, though he balls them into fists in his lap to hide it. Blinking hard like that'll make the images he's beginning to see faint, faint flashes of go away, Wash glances downward a moment to compose himself, then looks back up at Miles. The nervousness is still in his expression, but he's a lot more sombre now--no more uncomfortable laughter or awkward smile. ]

Let's just say you'd have someone nearly unstoppable on your hands.

[ unstoppable? this guy? but no, miles is actually listening now, his eyes narrowing in thought. much though he's found wash's nerves kind of amusing, miles knows better than anyone not to be deceived by appearances. wash isn't giving him any horseshit, even if he's obviously editing what he says to miles. his eyes flick to wash's hands, back up to his face. now that he's looking for it, he can see it -- the nerves aren't just social ineptitude, they're occupational. oh, he's certainly hit on something here.

miles keeps his expression neutral, even bland, as he leans back in his chair and studies wash, mulling all this over. ]

You don't say. We don't have that kind of tech back in my world, at least not on that level. Certainly not artificial intelligence. [ he tilts his head, giving wash an unwavering look, and raises his eyebrows slightly. ] And how's that working out for you?

[ How's that working out? Wash doesn't want to think about that. He's able to function if he doesn't think about it, and that's enough for him. But the question nudges at him, makes him clench his jaw and lower his gaze again.

He can't even hide that something about the whole thing isn't right. That it hasn't been working out well for him. God, he wants to. He wants to put on a poker face and pretend that it's working out great, that he's got this awesome and helpful partner like York does or North does, but no. He's here and he's having a hard time holding it together, instead.

Tightening his fists, Wash gives his head a small shake and attempts a smile. It comes out as more of a grimace as he lifts his head to look back over at Miles, though his eyes don't meet the other's gaze. He's a bad liar, and he doesn't want the guy to see the fear that he can feel in his eyes. ]

It's... Fine. [ He manages finally, talking slowly and deliberately. ] Sort of. Something, uh. Went a little wrong with mine, so I don't actually have one right now. Yet. I think they were fixing it before I got brought here.

[ Big. Fat. Lies. But he can't tell the truth because the truth makes him go to bad places and he can't do that. Not here, especially, not now. Not in front of someone on his new crew. Can't let anyone know that he's not necessarily stable. ]

[ no, miles can definitely tell from wash's reaction that it is not fine. he can tell the guy is trying his damnedest to convince him otherwise, but he isn't doing a very good job of it. it might work on someone else -- someone...particularly unobservant -- but miles, who's taught himself to read people just to survive, catches a glimpse of the frayed edges here and decides to reel it in. he doesn't want to break the kid on his first day. miles feels a bit bad for pushing him now.

he drums his fingers briefly on his desk. ]

Well, I suppose this'll give them a little more time to work the kinks out. How about we skip on down to Sanitation and I'll show you the grimy dark ropes of the job?

[ yeah, just leap right over that subject change, that's the best way to resolve the uncomfortable tension, right ]

Yeah, guess so.

[ But the kinks won't get worked out. The kinks are more than just kinks, they're big fucking rips in his head--something he still doesn't want to admit to despite knowing it on some level.

Leaping at the opportunity for the change in topic though, Wash perks up a little, eyes finding Miles' face again. Only a topic like Epsilon could make conversation about sanitation sound appealing. But he's damn ready to get out of this talk about himself and into being taught how to do his new job. ...No matter how gross and unappealing that job may be. Which it is.

God, maybe he's not ready for this. ]

Yeah, sounds good to me.

[ A beat. ]

...Is it really that bad? The job, I mean?

[ miles files all this away in his mind to look into later, and perhaps more obliquely, but for now, moving on to business. he gets to his feet -- unfortunately ruining the eye-level effect of sitting in the raised chair, since he only stands about 4'9. he gives wash a slightly manic grin. ]

Oh, it's not so bad. You get used to the smell -- it's a bit damp down there -- and as long as you keep your trousers trolled up, you probably won't get them too wet. I'd be careful not to slip in one of the puddles if I were you, though. [ he gives wash a more scrutinizing look, tapping a finger to his chin. ] I don't suppose you're small enough to fit into the ducts... Ah, well, if you need to go culvert diving I'm sure you'll figure it out.

[ As Miles gets to his feet, Wash follows the action a little more slowly. ...Only to pause in surprise because, uhm. Miles is tiny. Like, tinier than he looked in the chair. At 5'11, Wash is a full foot taller than him and finds himself staring downward at that grin, barely listening at first. This size difference is unexpected, okay, and very startling. Enough to be very distracting.

Then he decides he needs to stop being rude, shakes his head slightly to clear it, and focuses on what is being said. Which leads his face to fall. Clearly, Miles enjoys the idea of him dealing with all these gross things he once did himself. ]

Great... [ His tone is dry. ] So do all the newbies get stuck with gross jobs, or am I just the lucky one?

[ miles catches that distraction -- the staring -- he's been dealing with it his whole life, it'd be impossible for him to miss it. he gives wash a razor-thin smile in response, jaw tightening until wash finally shakes it off. ]

Glad to hear you caught all that. [ miles' tone is dry as he settles into a parade rest, hands clasped behind his back as he looks up at wash, and then he smirks faintly. ] Oh, you won the lottery with this one, kid.

Sorry--

[ Immediately Wash feels like shit for staring for so long over the height difference. He has to apologize, even if it doesn't fit in much with the conversation, just because of that look that Miles gives him. The dry comment helps, too.

After that though, his shoulders sink, and he nods slowly. ]

I had the feeling.

[ Stifling a sigh, he shifts so there's room for Miles to get out of the office and begin leading the way down to the bowels of the ship. Or, Wash assumes that's where sanitation is, but he doesn't really know. Either way, he's waiting to be led somewhere gross. And he's ready.

...Maybe. ]

Leaning in through the door, a nondescript grey scarf complementing the Dendarii grey-and-whites hanging over the black Moira uniform jacket, Bel grinned irrepressibly. "Hello, is this the Personnel Office? And am I speaking to the Personnel Officer?"

Miles looks up from his desk with a half-grin, shuffling some papers away into a file. He has to admit, it's good having Bel around -- someone familiar with the other side of Miles' life, although he knows he's creeping even further into dangerous mental territory -- although he's still...somewhat embarrassed about the revelation yesterday that Bel already knew the truth of his identity. He waves Bel in.

"That you are. Not a very illustrious rank, I'll admit, but trust me, it's a step up from where I started on this ship." He nods at the chairs in front of his desk, swiveling in his own chair to tuck the file into a drawer and nudge it shut. "I was just finishing up for the day. What's up, Bel?"

It's always good to have Miles around. Falling gratefully into a chair ~~and trying not to look at him as if expecting him to pull a live rabbit out of the nearest drawer~~, Bel stretches out their legs and takes in the office's neat functionality.

"Nice work if you can get it. I think I've been through the entire ship today, twice." Chuckling, Bel rocks the chair back. The furniture doesn't clip to the deck, a small but ever-present reminder that this isn't any Dendarii ship. Oh, we're going to have fun if the gravity ever goes....

"I met a talking rock today. Our ship's cook is an Old Earth god who seems to be just as stuck here as we are. There's a werewolf on board, or at least a man who claims to be one. It looks like some help is being given to crewpeople in shock after having a planet demolished right under us, so that's good. And I can't be sure, but I think they have a child working down in Engineering. I've also been promoted to a rank I've never heard of, for no real reason I can ascertain, and to commemorate the occasion, they gave me a scarf. Other than that, all's quiet." Rocking back a little more, Bel finishes the deadpan recitation with an open-handed gesture, as though making Miles a present of the whole impossible situation. Just another day at the office, Admiral, nothing unusual at all.

Miles' face splits with a wide grin at that, leaning back in his station chair in a semi-mirror of Bel's own posture, one elbow crooked over the back of the chair. A most markedly Admiral Naismith gesture.

"Ah, I see you've met Loki and Jasper. Or was it Peridot?" A little smirk steals into his expression, eyes glinting. It is interesting that Bel seems to know where Loki's supposed godhood is from -- although Miles has given up doubting him and is just going with it. Less of a waste of energy. Miles spreads his hands in an expansive gesture, slipping briefly into his Betan accent with an impudent flair without really thinking about it. "Welcome to the Moira, Tiruncula Thorne. I hope you're enjoying your indentured captivity."

He really shouldn't indulge those little whims to slip back into Admiral Naismith, no matter how relevant, no matter how tempting. It only confuses the issue, makes him even more...uncertain about who he is here, although his mind still shies away from that thought. It's just so easy around Bel, harder to resist -- almost automatic. It just makes him realize more keenly how much he misses doing Naismith. The smirk flickers out, and Miles drops his arms, shrugging.

Edited 2015-12-09 02:02 (UTC)

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December 2, late-shift

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