truth_is_cold

069

[Warden Filter | Audio]

[Rhade sounds tight all through this post, and there's clicking in the background as he fusses around with his Go stones. He's been mulling this over since the incident, and he supposes that he has to put this into effect now. If no one is agreeable, he'll have to contact the Admiral.]

If an engineer on board would be willing, I would like a customized lock for Ben's door. The lock should be both capable of timed settings and remote release. After his release from Zero I'm going to have him observe a curfew and a regular check in.

The incident was triggered by Mr. Barnes leaving. If you want further information, contact me privately. It is my understanding that the inmates that were attacked don't have proper representation. If no one intends to temporarily represent them, I'll address them directly. Thank you to everyone that assisted me.

[He's going to be wound up for a little while, understandably. He's probably going to make Ben put other wardens that he might trust on his access list.]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

I can do it. But I expect any remote mechanism would only work from a public area.

We can see if the remote would also work from my cabin since I have access, though if it turns out it does not I should be able to get into a corridor quickly enough.

I hope your winter is turning out less eventful?

I'm fine.

[Yep.]

I should have at least a prototype ready in a day or two. I appreciate how important this is.

[He will pick more when his inmate is not going on murderous rampages.] I'm debating making a tracking device for him so I can be sure of his public location, but as it is I know that if he's aware his behavior is being constantly monitored that will be why he chooses to moderate himself and not out of any real desire to change.

I agree. Setting firm boundaries seems like it would be more constructive than constant surveillance.

[Aya is noticeably more reserved than usual, though her expression remains neutral.]

That would explain his abrupt insistence that everything abroad was "wrong".

If you have not already acquired a volunteer, I would be willing to offer my assistance in installing additional security measures.

I do, but additional help would not go rejected.

Ben has an extremely low frustration tolerance and is... well, in the briefest possible description a zealot.

I am aware of his nature. We have shared many conversations in the past of similar topics.

Though the recent altercation in the hallway was my first experience with his frustrated hostilities.

[As usual, he's not sure he's equipped to deal with it. He usually hides this with confidence and decisiveness, but when there are bodies- and more than that, inmates that are in the position that he was...] I can see where it began, but he falls back on his training and can dismiss non-unit loyalties very quickly.

Anyway, I'm doing my part.

[He's glad she does because for all his assertiveness at the moment, he is completely unsure he's doing the right thing.]

I've been in the position those two inmates are in. I will have to find a way to address them.

[Meanwhile, on her end, Aya is...patient. She has been screamed at, attacked, blamed, and otherwise experienced a number of misgrievances from friends and colleagues in the past. This was not new to her, though that did little to ease the discomfort of the situation.]

Your assistance is both acknowledged and appreciated.

May I ask if you think a more rigid system will prove beneficial to him?

[She's not seeking to argue, but to understand the process. For someone who felt betrayed by the loss of a friend, how would he react to the additional restrictions?]

No. But it will be more beneficial to the other passengers on the ship. As long as I live here, I have an obligation to them as well.

I'm at least only going to require a check-in time of him rather than supplying him with a tracking device or keeping him under constant surveillance. He won't learn anything if he doesn't come to make decisions on his own.

[Or learn to deal with their repercussions.]

I see.

[And she did. He was speaking logically, a language she was most fluent in.]

Do you believe the presence of others would hinder his recovery process?

It's hard to say. The loss of someone from the ship can be a catalyst for destruction, or they can be the ones to teach him that he needs to stop destroying himself.

What is your recommendation?

I have none, other than he has to learn how to better handle his relationships. If you continue talking to him, whatever he does isn't your fault. Just remember that.

[It was a difficult answer to hear, but one she could not argue with.]

I will, thank you.

Would you like me to keep you updated on his progress?

If you find it concerning. I don't want to invade his privacy more than is necessary. [At least necessary to keep people safe.]

Understood.

[It takes three days before Ben finally rises up off the cot in his cell unprompted; he's despondent and distant, replies by shaking his head yes or no, and looks away when he's been pressed too hard for anything like an explanation or information. He doesn't want to be here, he doesn't want to be anywhere, and Zero is as good a place to refuse to exist than any other. The cell doesn't bother him.

He's pacing, now, but it's the mindless, listing path of someone not paying any attention at all to what he's doing. Never the less, he turns smoothly at each corner, and keeps a steady stride.]

[Rhade comes quietly into Zero, Ben's daily meal in hand, and he's not had much to say because Ben obviously hasn't had much to say. Today, though, he has news to deliver.]

Ben? [He asks mostly to make sure Ben is listening before he puts the tray inside.]

[Yesterday's tray is still there, untouched, as was the day before's; the transgenic doesn't really seem to register the arrival of a third, although there's an almost involuntary flicker of his eyes over at the sound of his name.]

Ben. Either you eat or I'm having you strapped to an IV. I'm not feeling particularly sympathetic towards you right now, whether Bucky is gone or not. [Rhade turns to pace the cells, hating that he has to be down here with Ladd at the same time. The man makes him nauseous.]

You have a curfew now. You will be held in your room from 2100 to 0930. I'm having a lock installed on your door.

[Ben doesn't slow in his own pacing or stop, though there's a brief, small noise in the back of his throat - almost a snort - at the threat. It's nothing he's unaccustomed to, either. X5s are expensive and must be kept in top physical condition no matter their own preferences.

The curfew gets another flicker of the flat hazel eyes, but he's not surprised by it, either. He's not upset by it. It was only a matter of time.]

Yessir.

No. Don't you empty "Yessir" me. Not today. Where was your "yessir" when you were attacking other inmates? Ones that didn't have anyone to represent them? Where was it in the stairwell.

[He doesn't flinch at the anger, either, nor does his own spark back like it had. Ben does stop, tilts his head to look at Rhade, less calm and more lacking whatever it is that would animate him otherwise.]

It's what I am.

No, Ben. It's not. You were designed to be a soldier, but you are a poor one. You abandoned your fellows on the alien plant. You murdered non-violent civilians under no command. You are a poor soldier.

You're making excuses right now.

Then decommission me. [There's a shade of the edge he's capable of, the first solid thing about him when his eyes narrow at the things Rhade is saying; they hurt in a way he can't make sense of, for more than one reason.

He knows all of that. But he also knows that he can be nothing else and, if he's a poor soldier, he's just nothing. It would perhaps be better than whatever he is now.]

You've already been decommissioned, Ben. Manticore's activities have been revealed. Your are dead in your world already. Here, you have a chance to be anything else anything else [he squints with emphasis] that you want to be.

But I've been an inmate, too, and left to fend for myself. I don't know what I'm going to tell those other inmates that you attacked, but it won't be, "It's just who he is."

Then tell them I'm a mistake.

Tell them it's a mistake I'm here at all.

[There's something heavy in his chest, something sharp and painful. It's been there all along, and he doesn't know how to be rid of it - just that sometimes, like now, it rises up and breaks the edges of his voice.]

I don't want to be anything - I wanted it to stop! [He steps forward, towards the bars, and it's not exactly meant as a threat. There's not a lot of threat left in him.] I made my choice and it was denied me - I don't want to be here. I don't want to be anywhere, but it never stops.

[He's not really scared of Ben, so he doesn't shy away. He stays near the bars.] No [he insists.] Because that's a lie, too.

I made the same choice, and it was denied to me too. I can't change that, it's just what the Admiral does. But after I stayed here a while, I discovered that I didn't want that choice anymore. I could have something better than what I had before and it didn't take dying to get out. This- what you've been doing, it doesn't fix anything! It's not fixed anything since you were a child.

You need to try for someone real, Ben, and yourself. Not someone you imagined.

I've been trying!

[Ben's fingers curl, voice raising in desperation; no one understands. They all say try harder. Zack told him to make the choice to be better. Max told him to make the choice to stop. That simple. Make the choice.

He can't figure the trick of it.]

I can't do it! I tried for years and couldn't fit in with the humans, couldn't learn what they know - I tried, for my unit, I tried so hard - I tried for Bucky, I tried for you, and I can't, I'm broken, I'm...

[He swallows, frustrated and upset, shoving away from the front of the cell to pace towards the back, shoulders tense and eyes blurring.]

You cook. You play chess. You have friends that ask about you. You go by "Ben" rather than a series of numbers. You were trained as a soldier.

You didn't try the same way before you got here. You relied on the Blue Lady to keep you safe. That's different. That's not trying, that's putting your fate in someone else's hands and hoping they'll take care of you. [If Manticore was an abusive father, the Blue Lady is a negligent mother.]

It doesn't matter why or how he he left, I can see that now. You can't control what happens by doing things like this.

You're wrong.

[He swallows again, hard, and comes to a stop with his back to Rhade; Ben doesn't quite know what to do with his hands so he keeps them at his sides, still closed into fists again.

He's forced his voice steady by the time he speaks again, though it's at the cost of what emotion had welled up. Numb.]

You're wrong. I did what Zack said. I stopped talking about Her, I stopped talking to Her. I trusted him. But...

I'm not wrong, because Bucky's still gone. Zack never came back. You ended up dead, and now no one is protecting the other transgenics from being hated.

And now there are innocent men who are more alone than you have ever been on the boat. And on top of that YOU TRIED TO MAKE ME SHOOT YOU! [That part screamed into his cell]. How dare you do that to me, knowing what you know. I carried my best friend's body from the bridge to his room. I was with my dead friend for 300 years.

[And at this point he's at the edge of tears.] And you tried to make me kill you- YOU TRIED TO MAKE ME WANT TO KILL YOU!

[And it just came pouring out because it hurts, hurts as much as many of the other things on the Barge. Chang mocking him for being too human when he didn't want to be. Wanting to kill Mariska. Seeing Dylan call him a traitor again. It hurts, and he quiets down and turns and covers his mouth and winces against a pain, because he doesn't want to raise his voice again anywhere around the other man in the area.

He's lucky. He avoids crying and manages to collect himself, though now his back is turned.]

Edited 2012-12-22 07:33 (UTC)

[Ben flinches. He has no defense - that was his plan exactly, insofar as he had any plan at all. It had seemed pretty straightforward. There must be a way to die, there must be a way to make it so the resurrection doesn't take effect; wardens must know it. The Admiral must have a breaking point. They all do.

They must have a way to make him disappear.

But the level of emotion from Rhade twists along with the hot coal he's already trying to juggle; he knows it's called guilt, this living thing, but all he knows to do is swallow it down again.

The X5 is silent and still for the moments it takes both of them to come back to themselves, unsure what to do, unsure if it can be fixed. Rhade will probably abandon him now and that wasn't his intention, but it's never been something he could stop.

However.]

It wasn't my intention to hurt you by putting you in that position. [He swallows again, manages to speak no more loudly;' still waiting for the stick, never even aware that there ever was a carrot.] I don't know what else to do. I'm... it wasn't my intention.

[Rhade knows it doesn't work like that. He also knows how much it hurts to kill a friend, or to watch them die. Not just Dylan, but he watched Borotep's ship explode, watched Tyr fall to the floor after he shot him with his own hand, and then couldn't deal with the idea of poisoning Braxiatel during their murder game.]

No [He says simply.] You just didn't think. No, there's no way to die here. Making someone kill you is useless. Believe me, I know. Enough of us have tried to die to get out of here.

[He's still hurting, but he feels enough like himself that he can turn around again.] You made your sister do that to you. That's a horrible demand to make of someone you were important to.

[Ben is still turned mostly away, though his head is tilted so he can at least see the movement from the edge of his vision when his warden moves; he listens to what's being said to him, seeing no use in refuting or agreeing. Rhade's right, as far as Ben can tell: it's a moot point because the only time it can be done is when someone disappears completely.

The last part, however, makes him flinch away again. Max is not a safe topic, if there even is one; he wants at once to say he knows that, that it was the kindest thing anyone ever did for him, that Max wanted to do it, that he didn't seem all that important to her while she was breaking his knee to save her precious human.

But the fact of the matter is that whether or not the demand was horrible, it had been the right choice, or would have been had he actually died. If she'd left him it would have been worse than death; if she'd stayed she would've been captured, too. There had been precious little time and precious few options, of which his had been the best either of them could do.

He isn't a strong enough person to talk about that, about Max and how things went, on top of everything else, so he tries to evade it. Instead, voice low, he asks a question he's afraid to hear the answer to; he's afraid he already knows what it is.]

Will you request reassignment?

No. You're going to check in with your cabin number every fifteen minutes when you're not actually in it. You will have two minutes of variance, but if you're are more or less late I'm coming to find you. You are obeying curfew. You are going to eat. And you are going to stop making people try to kill you because someone will bring you back every single time, even if it's not me.

And you will not stop trying and you will not hurt people the moment something changes, because things will always change.

[Because he knows what those men have been through. He knows what it's like to be left helpless.

And he in good conscience can't hold them accountable if they lash out at him.]

Edited (editted because words looked funny and not what was meant) 2012-12-23 08:32 (UTC)

[Ben accepts retaliation; he expects it, will deal with it as best he can as it comes to him. It's the good and the bad of not having any rights, of not expecting any, but that's not what he's thinking about right now.

He forces himself to turn back around, to smooth the angles of his body into a pitch perfect attention stance, eyes unfocused; he only has one response to the list, despite the way some of the items make him feel desperate and uneasy; there's anger in him still, but it's buried down deep over the course of the past few minutes, and he fears only having the one thing he can say thrown back in his face with contempt again.]

Yessir.

Beyond that, I'm not having any tracers or trackers placed on you. I'm expecting you to behave yourself because I know you're capable of it. And if you don't, you have to learn to deal with the repercussions of your actions. I don't like to see you hurt, I don't want to hurt you, but I can't let you just throw away other people's lives because you decided yours means nothing and can do nothing.

[He smears his hands down his face.] I'm leaving now. Eat your food. [And he goes, because he's not expecting much more than "yessir" out of him.]

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[Spam] CW: Suicidal Talk

[Spam] CW: Suicidal Talk cont.

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[Spam] CW: suicidal tendencies again

[Spam] Just consider the whole thread there.

[Spam] Apparently. GDI Ben.

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