trans_9 | Settling In [Open]

Robert Donovan was not, to say the least, a happy man. He had awoken in a strange, disgusting place that reminded him of something from a bad pulp magazine, been dressed in some sort of creepy living clothing by tentacles (something else from a bad pulp magazine) and retrieved a few of his belongings that had somehow been here when he arrived (instead of at home, where they belonged). Fortunately, his overcoat and a belt had been there, so he had some place to put his holstered revolver and his speedloaders. But it was nowhere near enough to keep himself decent, so he was forced to continue wearing the strange, almost terrifying clothing he had been provided.

And now was staring distastefully at what he assumed was a bunk. It looked like it was breathing for Christ’s sake. He didn’t like this. Not one bit. Still…it was all probably some horrible dream and he would wake up in his own home tomorrow, safe, sound and not in some crazy science-fiction story. He sighed, then ran a hand through his hair, asking a question to the open air. “This…this is a dream? Right? It’s gotta be a dream.”

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"...do they have real beds there? Honest to god beds that don't look like they're breathing?" Please, please, please let that be so.

"I don't think so, but there's grass, real grass, and that's better than..." Luly looks at the bunks like they just left something unpleasant in her shoe.

He nods in agreement.

"Maybe I can find a couch. Or a bench. Or something. I've slept worse places then that. I'm just...not sleeping in that" He grimaces. "Sometimes learning how to sleep anywhere is very useful."

Luly smiles at that. "Military?" She offers a hand—if Robert takes it, he'll discover that she has a surprisingly firm grip for her slender frame, and that her hand has subtle but present calluses that suggest someone who's regularly used the same model of pistol or rifle.

Robert smiles, casually setting down his rifle case and accepting the hand, shaking back just as firmly. Indeed, Robert has similar calluses and if Luly hadn't already noticed, he's carrying a revolver in a shoulder holster.

"Yep. 36th Armored Infantry Regiment, 3rd Armored Division all through the Second World War."

The red-eyed woman has a pistol of her own—a strange, large, blocky one with a bulging snout, though it's tucked away in a holster hidden under her her exotic and somewhat distracting garb. (The lump upwards of her left hip might be recognizable when she moves at the right angles, though...)

"First lieutenant Meluly, NEG army, special operations deployment," she says, and only a moment later properly starts processing Robert's introduction. Click-click-whirr-spoit goes the mental machinery as she tries to figure out which 'Second World War' is being talked about here.

He laughs and shakes his head.

"I was just a corporal. Carried a rifle and all that. Can't say I've heard of the NEG, though."

"The—when did you serve?" she asks sharply, looking more confused and sort of generally suspicious.

Robert frowns.

"January of '42 to November of '45." He pauses a moment. "Uh...that's nineteen forty-two to nineteen forty-five, just so you know." This time thing was confusing.

"Twenty-eighty-five," Luly says after a moment, mouth quirking unhappily at the mismatch. "The NEG is the New Earth Government. I'm a pilot."

"Twenty-eighty-five? Jeez! I met a guy from two thousand nine and I thought that was pretty far off..." He appraises her expression a moment. "The New Earth Government? Is that like the United Nations?"

"It's..." She gazes blankly in the distance a moment. "It's not an organizing group. It is the government." Well, ain't that a kick in the pants?

"Oh. So there's no more United States or Soviet Union?"

"Not for decades, since the First Arcanotech War... well, most of the old countries are the same as the administrative territories, I guess." She doesn't seem to quite recognize the term 'Soviet Union', though.

He just looks a bit confused at that.

"Arcanotech War?"

"Twenty-fifty-nine. My peoples' invasion." Her expression is quite innocent.

She may not have realized how that could be taken the wrong way.

A moment of incomprehension, then:

"What?! You mean...you mean you people invaded Earth? You're an alien?"

"What, I—" Her face twists as if insulted rather severely, hands clenching a little.

...and then she lets out a breath, though her expression is still dour. "...you wouldn't know... We're not aliens. It's a—long story. We're not proud of it."

"You took over...you're going to take over my planet? Where do you even come from, if you're not aliens?" This? This is a look of profound confusion.

"The Migou made us think we were something we weren't. We don't work for them anymore, and we haven't since the First War ended halfway through." She says 'Migou' like one might say 'dirty goddamn bastards may they frak their mothers and rot in Hell'.

He raises an eyebrow.

"The Migou? Who the hell are the Migou?"

"The real monsters. They're the ones we're all fighting against now." She gives him an expectant look, as if this should somehow clear up everything.

Unfortunately that really doesn't.

"That doesn't really explain much to me, miss." He must maintain his manners, even in this situation. Besides, asking politel questions gets you better answers. He hopes.

"They're from outside the solar system, and they're like—insects. Genius, but totally alien. All we know is that they want to wipe out everything the NEG stands for."