trans_9 | Bad Moon Rising [Open][R for Poss. Language]

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Bad Moon Rising [Open][R for Poss. Language]

Down in the city, sitting in one of the libraries in the Vatican, sat Sam Winchester hunched over a table with his eyes focused on the omnicom that lay on the table in front of him. His brow was furrowed and his mouth drawn shut as he stared intently at the information collected. His body was tense and there was a resolve and determination in his features that was unmistakable.

The omnicom screen flickered as a rough map of the ship--as much as he Sam had mapped of it that is--appeared and focused in specifically on the medbay, its interior and the hallways outside of it all the way to the hub. Having spent as much time as he had in recovery in the medbay, Sam had grown familiar with its setup and the ins and outs of its operations. He knew, with relative certainty, its schedule--which flickered into view as he pressed a key to open the file. He knew who would be in it and when. He knew who which of them would be easiest to subdue, where the best places to keep something confined in quarantine and how long it would take him search them by himself. He'd even determined how long it would take him to get from there to the city, taking into account any potential snags he might run into if someone busted him.

It was, for all intents and purposes, a mission plan. A retrieval mission plan. A 'get in, get what you're looking for, and get out' mission. All of it, save for the names of the participants, was saved on his omnicom. For appearances, it might have just been a got-it-alone plan. Or, it might be much larger, with other people helping. For whatever reason, Sam had failed to write the names down. Perhaps for their own protection should he get caught or his omnicom be compromised. After all, he had gone to great lengths to attempt to strengthen the protections against hacking, but Sam's skill only went so far and likely wouldn't hold off anyone with considerable computer skills for long.

But Sam Winchester didn't give a damn. If he got caught then he got caught. But he couldn't, he wouldn't just sit by and let that thing, that Yeerk, stay a threat. He knew he'd be breaking his promise to the Chief, and to the others who had been infested since he'd said he'd stand by them. But Sam felt betrayed. They'd turned their backs on him the moment they'd decided to give the damn thing a 'trial,' to let the rest of the crew--the ones who had already decided to let the wad of slime live--determine what to do with it.

So, Sam sat in the library of the Vatican poring over the details of his plan to break into the medbay, incapacitate whoever was inside, take the Yeerk and haul it down to the city and end it, and the debate, once and for all.

Unfortunately, the omnicoms are not immune to hacking...especially by those with better computer skills than Sam...

[OOC: Feel free to post independent subthreads if you want your hacking characters to react--or to react to Jack's message. Once Sam is confronted, I'd like that to stay as one single subthread, so if you want to confront Sam, please do it in that thread with the others. Thanks:D]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Jack can't resist a challenge. It's part of who he is. Someone tries to keep him out of something, he cannot resist hacking in. Even with Allen's threats hanging over him, the flurry of security Sam's tried to put up has not gone unnoticed.

So, Jack digs.

And he finds some very interesting, disturbing things going on. His eyes get huge.

"Dude."

That's when he starts sending out warning texts on his own omnicom.

Sam's up to something. He has maps of the med bay. Time tables. I don't know what he's doing but it looks bad!

Danny gets the message.

...isn't that where they're keeping Tony's yeerk?

Not waiting for a response, Danny runs toward the Med-Bay.

Yes! You don't think he's- oh crud.

Jack has no idea what he should do, this is new. But he grabs the monkey staff and is on his way.

He has a bad feeling about all this.

It was really an ordinary night. Lafiel had hooked herself into one of the library consoles, finding a port that would accept her froce and used that space-sensory-organ that Abh normally piloted their ships with to quite literally surf the net.

World(s) literature had kept her interest for a little bit. The epic operas of the Nomad Empires in dramatized form had entertained her until she grew tired of tragic lovers hurling themselves together into volcanoes. Military History proved somewhat more up her alley. Most would find the lectures of Muad'dib at the Imperial War College to be stiflingly boring but she was fascinated for hours.

When that vein ran dry, she began casting about for another database. Stacy had never said this was the only library, after all.

That's when she felt it. She experienced it as a kind of tipping, as if she put her foot where the ground was slanted.

Then a cascade. Plans, diagrams, things written down that bespoke guilt and desperation. She had quite literally stumbled upon Sam's plan.

She sat up in her velvetty, plush, living chair that looked like some great blister.

A message was quickly typed and sent off to the only two people she knew at all on this ship.

The Chief gets the warning, and his response arrives via comm ring rather than text.

<< Do you know where he is? >>

No need to explain who.

<< Negative. But this data is originating from another large database somewhere besides the main library. >>

Crap.

<< His omnicom. >> He says. << I need to find him. >>

The Chief throws out a wider communication.

<< When was the last time anyone saw Sam Winchester? >>

<< This doesn't look good, >> Luly butts in in Lafiel's direction, though she includes Chief on the transmission. << I'm going to head to the medbay. >>

The members of the security team get a Ring-hail.

<< Chief or one of the security team, this is Brainiac 5. Sam Winchester is in the library in the Vatican. He's professed to planning to kill the Yeerk before trial. >>

<< Do it. >> He says to Meluly. Possibly an unnecessary precaution, but there's no being do careful.

<< Acknowledged. I'm on my way. >>

And the Chief's on the move. He won't be long.

Jack had sent his message and Brainy presumed the others were gathering near MedBay or elsewhere.

"Stacy, locate Sam Winchester.||

||Sam Winchester is not registering on sensors.||

"He must be in the city then."

And thaaat's when he activates his master tracing program, viewable only on his own omnicom.

You know, the one he didn't tell anyone about.

There's a lot of thing he hasn't told anyone about.

For instance, after the incident with Sam, he still hasn't stopped scanning people. Oh, he has to be much more subtle about it now, and that means he hasn't scanned the whole crew yet, but not everyone reported for a physical and what happened to Sam obviously indicates that such information is vital for the medical officers to have.

Eventually after some floating around, he finds him, turns the program off as he lands, then tucks his omnicom into his belt.

Of all the things he says, the first thing he says isn't condemnation or recrimination. It's:

"Mr. Winchester, I need to teach you proper encryption methods."

(http://s225.photobucket.com/albums/dd304/mysterio2000/Sam%20Winchester/?action=view&current=Supernatural-supernatural-139590-1.jpg)

Sam was still sitting the Vatican library--while everyone else freaked out--when Brainy entered. "Is that right?" Sam asked. His back was to Brainy and he didn't bother to turn around. "And why's that?" he added coyly.

"Because some of your crewmates are enterprising and rather curious hackers and the omnicom network is not completely secure. Currently, one of your crewmates is spreading word to the rest of the crew about a set of plans you have on your omnicom. That's why I came to look for you."

(http://s225.photobucket.com/albums/dd304/mysterio2000/Sam%20Winchester/?action=view&current=tats10.png)

"Oh yeah?" There is slow nod of his head. He's silently cursing himself for not adding even more back-up to his security or ciphering the already double-ciphered text. But, given the level of skill and intelligence that was on the ship, it probably wouldn't have done any good anyway.

"Well, I guess that would mean you're either here to warn me...or to stop me," he said, finally turning around in his seat to look at the green alien. "So, which is it?"

There's a pause.

"When the others arrive, I suggest you tell them that you were engaging in a project at my behest, identifying security breeches and issues with patrol and on call schedules in the MedBay, just as I've identified similar security breaches for the Labs. I gave this assignment to you three days ago, when you requested more productive assignments during your recovery. You called up those plans just now at our pre-planned meeting, just as I requested, to give me your report."

Another pause.

"However, I hope you won't be surprised to find that there will be a marked increase in security measures in the MedBay--ones that will be kept entirely to myself."

Edited 2009-06-30 07:01 (UTC)

"No."

That's all he says. But it is plain on his face that Sam isn't budging.

"So you would rather profess to conspiracy to commit murder?"

"No," he answers, shifting his chair around so that he can face Brainy without having to twist his body. He then leans back in it and folds his arms across his chest.

"Because it's not. You have to have two or more people for it to be conspiracy and since it's just me there can be no conspiracy. And, secondly, it's murder. So, I really don't have to confess to anything."

"Killing this Yeerk won't bring you peace of mind, Sam, and there's a very specific reason why."

"Oh yeah? So, is that your professional opinion, Doctor, or are you just telepathic?" Sam counters.

"It's the opinion of someone that knows that there's an entire universe or more of Yeerks out there that, for all we know, due to the Yeerk pool being on this ship, and due to their being kept in such a strange fashion, may have some form of interdimensional travel or involvement with our captors. Their memories were locked off. They knew something. It was locked away, but they knew something."

He looks at him, his expression sharp.

"The Yeerk in the MedBay may know something. I need time to find a way to make it remember. We need to know their role in all this."

"Bullshit," he replied, staring coldly at Brainy. "Last I checked, we have three telepaths on board. At least two of which are powerful enough to have gotten into my head while I was in a coma to keep me from giving up and to have rewired my brain so my memories wouldn't be so erratic.

"If you or anyone else was really that damned concerned about what that thing knows, you'd have had them down there trying to rip it out of it's brain. But you haven't. Meanwhile, you've got a dangerous slug sitting cozy down in the medbay just waiting to get free so it can have a chance to finish what its friends started."

"I don't intend to allow the Violation of the free thoughts of a sentient being to occur unless the practice is approved without much protest from the rest of the crew," Brainy says. "And there is nothing a single Yeerk can do without the assistance of a member of this crew--in which case, the member of this crew would be the primary threat worth fearing and we would have a much larger problem on hand."

Brainy juts out his chin.

"Tell me, would you kill one of the telepaths on board for violating the thoughts of one of the others and controlling them, if they could safely be detained? Will that be our response to everything as civilized sentient beings? Lynch mobs? Murder? You're letting your personal trauma control your judgment."

Edited 2009-06-30 07:42 (UTC)

"If the telepath did it like the Yeerks did, without any other reason than to take over, hurt or kill other people, then yes. They need to die. Because if they can do that then there's no saying they couldn't take over someone else and use them to set them free again," Sam answered, rising to his feet.

"And don't get too damn comfortable with that theory of yours. Everyone around here keeps forgetting that by keeping that thing alive, even as a prisoner, we're nothing but prisoners keeping prisoners. Stacy's the warden around here. Not us. And from the sounds of things, she's not even in control. Someone else is. Someone who, apparently, plans on hurting us. For all we know, they could use Stacy's energy tentacles to free that fucking Yeerk and hold one of us down while it infests them."

He narrowed his eyes, staring angrily into Brainy's eyes. "We're not in control here. And we need to stop fucking acting like we are."

"We're also not primitives. We're not savages. We may not have control, but we can keep order. There can be justice, rather than revenge. And before you say anything to the effect that such ideals are impractical in a situation like ours, I'll preemptively remind you that I've spent a considerable part of my life proving such a notion wrong."

He wishes he could find some way to communicate this adequately.

"There is the practical, Mr. Winchester, yes. There are always practicalities. There is logic. Even decisions steeped in rage and blind hurt can be logical. But then there also is--I have no word for this that will translate from Interlac, so I will use the word 'humanity.' There is the humane. There is that middle ground between what is right and what is practical, that manages to be both, perhaps not perfectly, but it's often there. There are the trappings of civilization that we wrap around ourselves that may result in the same actions, but help prevent us from falling into primitivism."

He takes a deep breath.

"If this disagreement truly was occurring because of practicality, I might disagree with you in moral terms but agree with you on logical ones--but you've yet to even attempt to explore alternate methods or suggest any. Because you don't care. As someone else who suffered at the hands of the Yeerks, however briefly, quite frankly I find it insulting that you'd dare feign that this is entirely about what's practical when it's at least partly about you being angry. I don't confess to know you well, but I thought you were at least an honest man."

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Confrontation - The City

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