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Entry tags:
- !plot: send in the clones,
- daniel jackson,
- dr mcninja,
- dustin brooks,
- eleventh doctor,
- gaignun kukai jr./rubedo,
- hana asakura,
- hit girl,
- howard bassem,
- kang,
- kanoe zouichi,
- kon-el,
- lash,
- lex luthor,
- lord zedd,
- lord zetta,
- nightwing,
- querl dox,
- rory williams,
- ruffnut thorston,
- sakura haruno,
- tana moon,
- ter'thelas
"Listening to others, considering well what they say" (Part 3: Maingate Hotel)
The Maingate Hotel was pretty extravagant, and an entire section of it had been eked out for the crew's use during their stay. They had several suites, three communal areas, a conference room, their own kitchen with a chef on call if they required her.
They were all teleported from the main teleport pad of the hotel into the conference room, which was a large enough room to be able to hold a group their size and had plenty of chairs arranged in a circular pattern so they could mostly all face each other or whoever was in the middle of the room.
Everyone had to settle down so they were all able to talk, and the meeting itself would have to be carefully controlled so they wouldn't all talk over each other. But they were up for the task, right?
[ooc: Guardian Setup, General Mingling, Clone Checkup, Newbie Briefing, General Briefing, More Mingling, Back to the Meeting, and The Idea Guy sections are open. Backup characters introduced to the plot can join in the mingling subthreads if they want. The opening of new subthreads will be announced here and the ooc. Please read the linked OOC post for a plot timeline.]
They were all teleported from the main teleport pad of the hotel into the conference room, which was a large enough room to be able to hold a group their size and had plenty of chairs arranged in a circular pattern so they could mostly all face each other or whoever was in the middle of the room.
Everyone had to settle down so they were all able to talk, and the meeting itself would have to be carefully controlled so they wouldn't all talk over each other. But they were up for the task, right?
[ooc: Guardian Setup, General Mingling, Clone Checkup, Newbie Briefing, General Briefing, More Mingling, Back to the Meeting, and The Idea Guy sections are open. Backup characters introduced to the plot can join in the mingling subthreads if they want. The opening of new subthreads will be announced here and the ooc. Please read the linked OOC post for a plot timeline.]
General Mingling
[ooc: Standard subthreaded mingling. Eat a sandwich, talk amongst yourselves, poke at a pretty indoor hotel fountain.]
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One hand of his was constantly up, brushing and poking and nudging the brand on his forehead repeatedly. Of course the irony was that he used his right hand to do so, where the much older brand of the ominous number 666 rested on his palm.
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"You know, where I came from, they never bothered branding any of us. It was easy enough to tell we weren't human without it."
It was all glowy, too. Might as well paint a giant bull's eye on his forehead for snipers. Ugh.
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He was actually contemplating using it to shoot off the holographic brand that had been implanted in his forehead. It should be relatively easy for his systems to calculate the exact angle of fire required to scrape the skin without puncturing his skull. There would be blood, of course -- head wounds always bled quite a bit. But on its lowest setting, the shell should produce a minor, predictable path of damage. The wound should be completely healed, without scarring, in a day or two.
He looked at the gun barrel.
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Perhaps not the best question, but one of the few that seemed appropriate.
"This is hardly the reception I expected for diplomatic envoys."
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He was in such a rush to meet him he almost forgot to stop and had to put on the emergency breaks to prevent crashing into Zouichi, causing him to skid and stumble on the polished floor, arms flailing wildly as he regained his balance.
Finally, he righted himself, cursed loudly at the floor and walked the last few feet up to Zouichi.
"You okay, man?"
Nothing like some light comedy to brighten the mood.
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The Doctor had a habit of materializing from one place to another, moving fairly quietly despite having the next closest thing to giraffe legs. He was currently cultivating an attitude of I'm Not At All Worried And You Shouldn't Be Either, more for the other crew's benefit than actually believing it himself because it sounded like the negotiations were hardly going as well as they should. He'd like to have a talk with the Galilean responsible for the brands but for now, he'd rather check up with the crew, get a face-to-face feel of things.
He tilted his head, hands clasped behind his back, regarding Zouichi From The Book Club with a slight frown.
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That said, by no means did she approve of ANY of this shit. She had never liked the idea of slavery in any way, or denying anyone's rights. She was a New Yorker, best place in the world far as she was concerned, with all different kinds of people. Taking away rights of someone because of just one attribute was foreign, wrong.
"Hey," she said, not quite meeting his eyes. "You all right?"
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'Better' would include not finding out that Galilean lifestyle depended on bred-for-slavery labor. 'Better' would include not having the Galileans ignore their ways and trample all over the team's rights. According to the Councillor, clones were property, like having a car. No feelings, no worries, just a use they were all entitled to because they made life. That was bad enough. It got even better that it felt underhanded, and they'd just acted without even consulting them or warning them ahead of time. Daniel resisted the urge to pace. He tried to keep himself neutral, look at this from the anthropologist point of view. It wasn't like there weren't caste systems all over the galaxy, all over Earth at some point. China, Yi society, had divided into classes, with the Ajia and Xiaxi being slaves. Or the Baekjeong. Not quite the same, they weren't artificially created, but Daniel was thinking it didn't make a difference. Still living, sentient beings being oppressed for the benefit of a few. Maybe the big difference was that they were molded from birth. Didn't even have a fighting chance.
All you had to do was look at the Goa'uld and the Jaffa.
So much for cultural relativism and objectivity. Maybe he needed to cool off somewhere.
On top of that, they had negotiators practically offering up military service as if Stacy's crew had to apologize for the Galilean actions. It didn't make any sense. Why would they do that? The Galileans had been the one who'd committed an offense, if you could call branding their people a simple slip up, and the burden was on them to apologize for completely disrespecting their visitors' ways. After all, the Galileans had reached out to them after all. Jumping to offer them anything at this junction was a mistake. A big one.
Daniel glanced at the offered food and found that, no, he still wasn't hungry. Hard to when guilt was eating at you already. The food was probably made by people that, according to the Galileans, weren't considered sentient beings. Just a tool like any other. This entire hotel, for that matter, the beds they slept probably all came from clone labor. Daniel's stomach flipped a little, and this time it wasn't due to the air shuttle.
Find Dick, see about checking out the processing plants or that computer. He'd try and keep himself objective, do his job. It wasn't like this was the first time he'd seen something that massively conflicted with his own beliefs.
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The Galileans had made a huge mistake.
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Letting out a half-relieved, half-exhausted sigh, Jr. turned to Daniel. "Good to see everyone here in one piece, at any rate."
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The fact lives were being lost on a world that could revive next to anyone indicated scale in a different way. Now, Sakura could only imagine how much of that life-loss could be clone related. How many 'actual' citizens had been lost? Was this more financial than anything else?
She wanted to talk with Rory, she wanted to speak with Henderson, check in with all those who had been taken off to be branded, listen to the people around her. She wasn't hungry, if she knew she needed to keep her energy levels up for whatever they'd have to discuss, and whatever they'd have to do tomorrow.
Walking neutral lines was difficult. Yet who was right? When had this become about being pulled into another world's civil war and told to stop out the leaders of one half of the war? Not to say it wasn't the kind of work a shinobi could find themselves in. She'd be lying if she thought otherwise.
But the trade off? Where was the justification in helping potentially escalate one skirmish, one war, in the face of the largest war she'd ever encountered? The technology that could be used to save their lives, the lives of everyone in the GIA, potentially -- if. If they could work with a morally reprehensible group, if they could find the trade-off, if they could keep parts of their own crew from defecting to fight with the people not content with their dictated lot in life.
It was so very hard to figure out how to walk that line.
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No comment on the brand yet; he figured that would come up eventually. It was kind of hard to miss.
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"Here," he said, holding out a data pad. "I believe that this might be relevant to some of your interests."
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He stopped to the side, taking a moment to rub his fingers over the bridge of his nose. "It can't ever be easy, can it?" he asked nobody in particular, then shook his head and straightened. There was still a little bit while the conference room was being set up. Probably better grab something to eat.
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A slight bit of political maneuvering, and Lex had all the information he had asked for previously. Information on the terrorist group and their recent attacks. Information on the laws of this world.
Information on the crew themselves.
It made for excellent reading, and he sat there quietly soaking in all this knowledge. He really should've asked for information on the global economy, but he should probably pace himself a little.
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This was not unusual for Ruffnut. For how much she had learned so far the universe was still too vast for her to comprehend and this was honestly the first time such a problem and come into her life.
So she sat slumped in a chair, Helmet askew, legs folded watching the crowd mill about and thinking as hard as her uneducated and sheltered Viking mind would allow her.
Maybe she'd feel better if she hit something...
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Though he seemed utterly uninclined to mingle or be social with the others, he HAD expressed an unpopular opinion on the comms. Throw things at him.
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Finally, she has to give voice to her concerns from the corner where she's standing, to whoever happens to be nearby and listening. "Can anyone tell me why we're still here eating hors d'oeuvres and chattingafter members of our crew were attacked?"
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Re: General Mingling
God, just, everything that they had heard now, from some of the members of the crew was just completely horrible. She had no idea what she could even do about it though. Fighting against the government of this planet wasn't exactly something they were going to be able to do. Not if they wanted that tech.
Of course, as far as Will was considered, Fuck the tech. She already knew from Nerissa doing it that if she had enough power to do it, Will could do everything that medical tech could do. But, that would really only help the ship, wouldn't it? Not the rest of the GIA.
Either way, right now Will was pretty pissed, and trying to make sure that she didn't start accidentally send bolts of lightning towards every native non-clone of this planet.
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And what about the other pieces of information she should be telling the others sooner or later...
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It wasn't about the mark to him, it wasn't about being denigrated himself--it was the clone banks. The clone banks of Krypton and the clone banks here looked exactly the same. It was just like Kal had showed him that one time, with the visions of Krypton and Black Zero. Fighting over clone rights had led to the destruction of a world, and while it also led to the Earth getting one of its greatest heroes, that was a steep price to pay.
How could they not see what this would lead to? How could they help oppress people who were enslaved just for some medical tech they could probably eventually develop on their own or get from somewhere else?
If anything, the GIA probably wanted their own handy-dandy disposable clone armies over the tech--an endless supply of soldiers that didn't count as people to be tossed against the faceless Ohm hordes.
He had to calm himself down, though. He knew that much. Which was why he caught some fresh air on a balcony outside, still visible to the group but set apart, where he had some space. He was breathing deep, ragged breaths like a bull, trying to let the cool air soothe his inflamed temper.
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He needed to gather his thoughts, knew he needed to gather his thoughts. Had to stay focused in order to get everything together. He'd need to dissimulate the information later. He wasn't really meant for this sort of thing, wasn't really the sort of thrived in this environment. But he was the only medic that had gotten a first hand look at the tech. At how they did things.
How was he supposed to say "They can regrow limbs" without coming off as entirely complimentary? How was he supposed to admire their recovery time when most was caused by transplanting organs that had been cloned to cut down on rejection? Or using a clone to provide blood and plasma? He wasn't a doctor, and he couldn't help coming back to the mark. The brand, like these people were nothing more than cattle, incable of being shamed by a caste mark that told all who saw them that they were subhuman.
Couldn't help thinking of Molly and Conner.
Beings created for a purpose with no choice given to them. It would be like randomly assigning jobs to every baby every born. It would be impossible to know anything about the person they'd become, unless it was programed in. Which seemed to be what the plan was here. The hospital had been amazing, beautifully designed, clean, efficient...
He sighed, staring down at his notes. If it weren't for the clones, if they hadn't attacked five members of their party...well, Galilee would have gotten their assistance with no questions asked. And now? Now where did they stand?
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