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trans_92010-01-11 12:20 pm
quark-assassin.livejournal.com) wrote in trans_92010-01-11 12:20 pm
Entry tags:
I've gained Nothing, therefore I have Nothing left to Lose. [open]
He’d failed.
He’d failed miserably.
Everything had gone according to plan. Dustin got a layout of the ship, figured out all the key locations, found his weapons and tools, and had made it down to Neuropathy with only a few distractions here and there. True, once he got inside and Kirk got involved (along with security and the Major), things got a little out of hand for a few minutes. But in the end he still managed to get through to Stacy’s mainframe via one of the inorganic consoles and his cellphone—and, just as he expected, he ran into a pretty powerful defense mechanism.
Dustin had never seen anything quite like it before. The code itself was in an alien language and format (though that admittedly did not take long to sort out), and once he’d translated it into something recognizable it engulfed anything he threw at it. It was through sheer luck that he was able to decrypt and block the section that related to physical ship defenses so that Stacy didn’t hurt anyone while he was working—or, worse yet, hurt the one he was trying to save in the process.
It took roughly forty minutes of continuous typing, referencing, sweating and cursing for Dustin to probe his way through most of the security code. He was able to safely disable about a third of it. Two-thirds was beginning to look like a possible window of success, and at the rate that he was learning the code and adapting to Stacy’s counter-scripts his task was slowly becoming easier. Then, just as Dustin thought he had the hang of things, right when he let his guard down for the first time, the AI struck back viciously and managed to completely disable his phone, therefore destroying any chance he had at the time of getting past. The speed and ferocity in which it did so was totally unexpected, as if Stacy was predicting how Dustin would react next in order to disable each strand she threw at him—but this, this was impossible…not that he didn’t believe in telepathy, but he’d long thought that the frequency and turbulence of his thoughts made his mind impenetrable, equating to something like putting one’s finger in a blender if attempted. How she managed was less of a mystery; it was more bizarre how Dustin had managed to overlook such a glaring possibility in his preparations…
How could he have been so dumb?
It was a miracle that he’d escaped the brig (and the Major, no less), but now Dustin was on the run from everyone and everything. Judging from the crowd that had amassed and followed him inside Neuropathy, there was no doubt that his failed endeavor to get inside Stacy’s brain and fix her, once and for all, had long since been broadcasted to everyone’s Omnicom and had earned him widespread acrimony. Though, then again, he’d still managed to get pretty far into her programming to prove that he’d put up an impressive fight, one that few were probably expecting from him.
No matter; it still wasn’t enough.
So now, downtrodden, starved and exhausted, Dustin wandered into the City. He hadn’t eaten or slept since he woke up, kept hydrated only because he was stabbed by annoying tentacles each time he passed through the Living Area. Frankly he hadn’t expected that he would be on this ship long enough to worry about such matters.
Obviously he was wrong.
Staggering, the scruffy man’s gaunt figure walked blindly forward in a trance-like march. His deep green eyes, accented with bright red veins, were wide open and unblinking, staring at nothing, and yet wandering this way and that as if following invisible lines of text. The gears in his head were turning, nigh audible if one pays attention—though that sound is actually Dustin muttering to himself, quietly and without moving his lips. He seems to be speaking in…Russian? It doesn’t matter, what with the translating systems, because even with them he’s not saying anything coherent. Just numbers and letters…
He’d failed miserably.
Everything had gone according to plan. Dustin got a layout of the ship, figured out all the key locations, found his weapons and tools, and had made it down to Neuropathy with only a few distractions here and there. True, once he got inside and Kirk got involved (along with security and the Major), things got a little out of hand for a few minutes. But in the end he still managed to get through to Stacy’s mainframe via one of the inorganic consoles and his cellphone—and, just as he expected, he ran into a pretty powerful defense mechanism.
Dustin had never seen anything quite like it before. The code itself was in an alien language and format (though that admittedly did not take long to sort out), and once he’d translated it into something recognizable it engulfed anything he threw at it. It was through sheer luck that he was able to decrypt and block the section that related to physical ship defenses so that Stacy didn’t hurt anyone while he was working—or, worse yet, hurt the one he was trying to save in the process.
It took roughly forty minutes of continuous typing, referencing, sweating and cursing for Dustin to probe his way through most of the security code. He was able to safely disable about a third of it. Two-thirds was beginning to look like a possible window of success, and at the rate that he was learning the code and adapting to Stacy’s counter-scripts his task was slowly becoming easier. Then, just as Dustin thought he had the hang of things, right when he let his guard down for the first time, the AI struck back viciously and managed to completely disable his phone, therefore destroying any chance he had at the time of getting past. The speed and ferocity in which it did so was totally unexpected, as if Stacy was predicting how Dustin would react next in order to disable each strand she threw at him—but this, this was impossible…not that he didn’t believe in telepathy, but he’d long thought that the frequency and turbulence of his thoughts made his mind impenetrable, equating to something like putting one’s finger in a blender if attempted. How she managed was less of a mystery; it was more bizarre how Dustin had managed to overlook such a glaring possibility in his preparations…
How could he have been so dumb?
It was a miracle that he’d escaped the brig (and the Major, no less), but now Dustin was on the run from everyone and everything. Judging from the crowd that had amassed and followed him inside Neuropathy, there was no doubt that his failed endeavor to get inside Stacy’s brain and fix her, once and for all, had long since been broadcasted to everyone’s Omnicom and had earned him widespread acrimony. Though, then again, he’d still managed to get pretty far into her programming to prove that he’d put up an impressive fight, one that few were probably expecting from him.
No matter; it still wasn’t enough.
So now, downtrodden, starved and exhausted, Dustin wandered into the City. He hadn’t eaten or slept since he woke up, kept hydrated only because he was stabbed by annoying tentacles each time he passed through the Living Area. Frankly he hadn’t expected that he would be on this ship long enough to worry about such matters.
Obviously he was wrong.
Staggering, the scruffy man’s gaunt figure walked blindly forward in a trance-like march. His deep green eyes, accented with bright red veins, were wide open and unblinking, staring at nothing, and yet wandering this way and that as if following invisible lines of text. The gears in his head were turning, nigh audible if one pays attention—though that sound is actually Dustin muttering to himself, quietly and without moving his lips. He seems to be speaking in…Russian? It doesn’t matter, what with the translating systems, because even with them he’s not saying anything coherent. Just numbers and letters…
no subject
He would continue following Yoshimi for a little bit longer. Then, suddenly and with an unusual violence, Dustin burst into laughter. It wasn’t the hoarse, grinding sound that Yoshimi might’ve remembered from the first time he’d met her; this was actual amusement, a genuine showing of mirth that was by no means pure, but every bit as bright as one would never expect to come from the gaunt figure that still walked, keeled over with aching lungs, behind his target. There was a sort of innocence in that laugh, perhaps a long-lost youthfulness or simpleness buried under his abilities.
Whatever it was, Dustin was acting weird. He would do well to get some sleep.
…On the other hand, he was kind of glad that Yoshimi hadn’t actually consented. Part of him reasoned strongly that coitus was not a beneficial activity while in his current state.
no subject
Sighing, figuring that he's just... exhausted, or somesuch nonsense, she ignores his previous question - along with her subsequent embarrassment - and moved to tug him along, making sure he doesn't collapse with mirth. Man, but the guy was odd, and it occurs to her several seconds after the fact that she really ought to be cackling at his cackling. Because such a light sound really doesn't belong in Dustin's vocal cords.
"C'mon, Sparky, don't collapse on me. Kami-sama knows I don't have the willpower to drag your semi-lifeless semi-corpse to a bed," she says, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, seriously considering dropping him in the middle of the hallway and keeping her room a secret, happy place, reserved only for socially inept women with pink hair, but really, the guy looks positively ill, and once again, her conscience shouts at her that it would be wrong to ditch him, wah wah wah, blather blather.
So she continues walking, keeping him in tow, halting rather abruptly a few doors down from her room. She half wants to ask him to behave...
no subject
That room's sounding like a good idea right now.
no subject
The room smells like her. Probably a side-effect of spending nigh on all her time in here.
"Right. That bed is mine. You do not touch. That bed is yours until we find you one that isn't near me. You sleep in here - that's it. I'm the antisocial one here, and I was here first, so I get dibs on the moping quarters. Got it?" She glares at him, willing herself not to turn fuchsia (and hey, it actually works!).
"Now go to sleep - you're delirious," she says, voice a bit softer, gesticulating vaguely towards the unused bed, edging towards the door. "I'm gonna go... wander around for a while. If you're not asleep when I get back, I'm kicking you out."
no subject
Surely she’d collaborated with the corrupted AI to install some sort of deadly security measure that would keep him from escaping, so attempting to do so was futile. Dustin paced the room several times, furiously muttering to himself as he glanced at the walls and the sealed door, looking for cameras or vents or something. Eventually he decided that he needed to sit down so that he could think better.
He wasn’t tired. But Yoshimi wanted him to sleep for whatever nefarious plan she was about to enact on him…perhaps he could trick her? Yes, yes, that was perfect—Dustin would pretend to be asleep, and then when she came back and thought she had succeeded, he would strike! A classic case of deception!
Feeling extremely enamored with his wonderful brain, Dustin flopped onto his bed and closed his eyes. Yes, Dustin, you are a genius…
Several seconds later he passed out.
no subject
Edging into the room, she rolls her eyes at his sprawled form.
"Predictable," she mutters, turning towards her own bed. Sure, it's awkward to sit in the same room as a sleeping guy you barely know, but it's not as if she has anywhere better to go, and her book is in here.
Trying her hardest to ignore him, she settles in the corner, scanning through the digitized novel to find her place.