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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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[ 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. ]

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