one_man_army | (no subject)

(no subject)

When he steps through the door from Milliways, he's expecting to find the interior of his tent, which is why his head is ducked. His rucksack is over his shoulder - he'd thought it might be a good idea to bring some certain items from the Bar through in case things went wrong with his room - but when he suddenly runs his face smack into a rack of metal shelving, he yelps with surprise and confusion.

(Also? That is going to leave a bruise.)

Carl glances around at the room he's found himself in, realizes he's not in his tent (and therefore probably not in Africa, either) and immediately steps back with one hand poised to grab the doorknob back to the Bar.

Except the doorknob isn't there either.

Just where the hell is he, and why is he in what appears to be a storage closet?

+++

He spends two minutes quickly mapping out the room, while digging out his sidearm and stashing it at the small of his back where it'll be hidden safely in his concealed-carry holster. He's glanced at some labels on shipping crates and all it tells him is the department the items (whatever may be in the crates - he doesn't check) are intended for.

Science. R&D. Technical.

So he's...in a lab. Maybe.

Wherever he is, he can't stay in this storage closet forever. He tries his cell phone - no service, but it figures.

He hears footsteps outside of the door (hallway? offices?) and freezes, but relaxes once they pass.

Obviously he is going to need to get out of here and figure out where the hell he is. Carl shifts his bag on his shoulder and walks towards the door, waiting until there is relative quiet before he opens it and walks out like he's belonged here this entire time.

It's a hallway. Slick walls and smooth floors, signs posted near the doors. All right, he can manage this. He starts off in the direction he hears voices - lots of voices - figuring that at least then, he can try to blend into a crowd (hopefully) and figure out what the heck the Bar has gotten himself into.

He rounds the corner and finds himself staring at a huge open room, full of hundreds of people that appear to be packing (and unpacking) various boxes, bags, and crates. The tech is definitely nothing he's ever seen before, and a lot of them seem to be carrying what looks like gas masks at their sides.

One of the larger crates is lazer-stamped with three letters on the side: RDA

And then it clicks.

He's on Pandora. (Probably, anyway.)

"...shit."

He has got to find Trudy.

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At this moment in time, Chief Warrant Officer Gertrude M. Chacon is doing something of High Importance.

She's sitting on the edge of Maya's cargo-bay, absently sketching as she waits for the Ph.D.s to finish taking samples from the trees or the ground or the tail from a slinger's corpse or whatever the hell they are doing.

Not that she knows how long they'll take, because hey, she's just the pilot. It's not like she has other things she could be doing.

At least Onozuki isn't going to be jumpy and ask her questions and try and shoot at the branches. No, that was yesterday's gunner.

She shakes her head, just a little, and adds some shading to her page. It'd be nice if Milliways deigned to show up when she got back, at least.

This is taking longer than he'd like, but this place is huge.

At least he's somewhat able to blend in - there seem to be other people wandering around looking for things just as much as he is - but it's still a struggle not to get noticed.

Trudy would be one of a few places, he figures. Her quarters, the hangar bay, or maybe even out flying. If she's out flying, this will be more difficult.

(It is already really difficult. He has no idea where the hangar bay might be, let alone her quarters. He knows he can't go outside without a mask, but he doesn't have one of those.)

Carl heads for the hallway, setting off in the direction that seems most likely to lead him someplace helpful.

(He knows he's more likely to get lost, but in that case, he can backtrack.)

There had been a briefing. Of course there had been a briefing. Lots of shiny new pilots to train. Not that the shiny new pilots saw themselves as shiny or new - no, they were professionals, they were experienced, they knew what they were doing.

Farzan'd find it endearing if he didn't want to strangle them.

As it is, he's going to go straight to the barracks and hit up the games, and go kill a dragon or...three...

The pilot frowns a little as he catches sight of one man. Unknown, which isn't unusual at this time of year, but it's certainly not usual, either. But there is something off about him.

Farzan steps out of the crowd into a doorway, and watches. The clothes are off, if you look, and the man looks familiar. Where has he seen him-

Oh.

(Maybe)

Farzan goes back into the crowd and makes his way up to the man (easy enough done when wearing a uniform with a gun, more than easy when he carries himself with that 'I am better than God' fighter-jock swagger).

"Benton, wasn't it?" Farzan says when close enough.

He turns when he hears his name called (and mentally kicks himself for responding) and glances at the nametape on the man's uniform.

Farzan.

Trudy's best friend.

He nods.

"Yes. You're a friend of Chacon's, correct?"

"Impressed you remember," Farzan says cheerfully, "given it's been...hell, three years?" People bumping into each other here, at the far reaches of humanity's presence, are common enough - it makes the exchange seem normal, and if anyone can convey 'play along', Farzan is trying his hardest.

Also, trying not to laugh, because what the fuck?

"But you, my friend, have been turned around. I'll show you."

"I'd appreciate that."

With a inward sigh of relief, Carl sets off after Farzan. He got the hint and he is definitely well-trained at playing along.

He has no idea where they're going but he's mapping the route they take; when they step through the doorway into an unoccupied room, he tenses slightly (if only because part of this is still sending up alarm bells) and glances for the exits, just to be sure.

(If this guy tries anything, things are going to get complicated. he has to trust Farzan, because he's on an alien world's moonbase, far, far from home.)

Edited 2012-02-13 03:38 (UTC)

Farzan did his time in infantry, did his time ferrying troops and the First Recon kids, and he's picked up some of the spaces of what Trudy didn't tell him about Carl.

So, while he lets the door slide shut behind them easily, he also takes several steps to the side. He's not between Carl Benton and the door - and likewise, neither is Benton between him and the door.

The room itself is...a lot like the rest of the base. Utilitarian, with pipes and wires running overhead. There are desks here, and chairs, and even more crates. No windows, only one exit, and the hum of machinery that permeates the walls.

"So," Farzan says, hooking one of his thumbs over his gun-belt as the other hand pinches the bridge of his not-inconsiderable nose, "what the fuck are you doing here?"

He sounds exasperated, and also as if he might burst out laughing.

"To be honest, even I'm not entirely sure why or how," Carl admits - because while the explanation is easy enough - I walked through the Door into the wrong universe and ended up on my girlfriend's alienworld moon base instead of sub-Saharan Africa - he's not quite sure that'll fly so well.

He pushes a hand through his hair, trying to rake it back and collect his thoughts.

"Just how much has she told you about where I'm from?"

Farzan's lips quirk - it seems the battle to win over his laughter isn't going so well.

"The past, about 130 years ago. Probably an alternate timeline, given you don't have the U.S.S.R. Met at a freaky bar called Milliways." Beat. "Which doesn't let me through the door, although I can look in."

Edited 2012-02-13 10:12 (UTC)

It is an incredibly ridiculous situation, but it is made better by the fact that Farzan is aware of Milliways. It makes the 'malfunctioning magical bar' easier (somewhat, anyway) to explain.

"Yeah. You've got that much right." Carl nods. "Thing is, I didn't plan on ending up here. It shouldn't even be possible without Trudy being the one to open the door out of the Bar, but things are...something is happening, at Milliways. Almost like it's malfunctioning, or something. I was stepping out into what I thought was Africa, and ran smack," he waves at his head, to indicate the faint red mark beside his left eye, from hitting the shelf. "Into one of your supply closets. With no door behind me. It was like I got dropped here by mistake."

It would be like Carl was still working with Jack, and didn't tell him about Milliways, or meeting someone you want to live with: Farzan not knowing about Milliways was just never going to happen.

The laughter vanishes like a light-switch, and Farzan narrows his eyes.

"And you can't get back." It's not exactly a question.

Edited 2012-02-13 10:19 (UTC)

"No door I've opened yet has got me there, no. I'm not saying it's impossible to get back, but my original entry point...doesn't exist."

Which doesn't make any sense, either, but a paradox is a paradox.

"So I figured if I could manage to find Trudy, somehow, she could try getting the Bar and getting me back."

(Or, he thinks. Maybe the Bar has malfunctioned permanently and you're stuck here, and she sent you here to keep you safe.)

"Weeeeeeell," Farzan says, "y'chose a good time to drop on by, given we got a shitton of new people. Hopefully, and no offence, but we can get a door workin'. Trudes is off on a sortie, but she'll be back..."

Pause.

"Whenever she gets back."

Carl nods.

"She's told me how sometimes those...take awhile."

Usually in mutterings about the fucking scientists, this or that.

"I know this is a lot to ask, but is there some way we could...find a place for me to be where I'm not gonna get interrogated about why I'm here?"

He's not knocking Farzan for asking him questions, not at all. He just knows if they don't find a place to hide him until Trudy can get him a door back to the Bar, things are going to start getting complicated and they are going to get complicated, fast.

Farzan grins at him.

"Don't fancy watching the Colonel try and decide what to do with ya?" He snorts, and then laughs.

"Can shove you in Chacon's room, I guess. Just gotta get you there. Be a surprise for her."

Yeah, okay, he's laughing now.

Carl is certain of a few things:

Trudy is probably going to flip her shit (in some fashion) when she realizes that he's on Pandora with no door back to the bar. Most of it is not going to be positive shit-flipping, either.

"Not exactly my idea of a good afternoon, no," he comments, the barest hint of a smirk on his face. "Her room will work. I can...follow, easily enough. Is there anything I need to know before we walk back out there, if anyone asks questions?"

Despite the laughter, Farzan still gives Carl a thorough once-over.

"You're new, you're...hell. Systems-tech, they always have to work here for a while before they are actually useful. People won't ask you for help. Being new also covers you being out of place. You knew me and Trudes back when we were in Cali, so I'm showing you around - and if we really get stuck talking, being ex-Army explains why the barracks. Being one of the Marines ain't gonna be a smart idea, because then the others'll want to take a look at you."

Beat.

"And keep radiating bland like you were before. Y'right with goin' outside? We'll avoid more folk that way, although it's a little...jumpy right now."

"Outside is fine," he says, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. "I don't have a mask, though, obviously. We'd have to get me one of those, right?"

Bland, systems-tech, knew them back in California, and not a Marine.

(He will never be a Marine. No offense to Trudy or Farzan.)

"Easy done, we've got them everywhere. I'll grab some for us at the door."

He rocks back a little on his heels, and grins again. It's an altogether sharper grin.

"And just while I have your attention, Captain. I've never seen Trudy like this, with anyone before, and I've known the girl since flight-school. Fuck her up, and I'll find a way to go back in time, and fuck your shit up. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Carl replies, without any hint of sarcasm in the sir, because while the man is grinning at him, this is Trudy they are talking about and Carl is very serious about not fucking things up between them.

A hint of a smile does creep onto his face, however, when Farzan mentions that Trudy has never been like this with anyone before. That makes him a little bit proud, and very happy.

"I know you don't know me aside from what she's told you," he adds. "But you can trust me as far as she's concerned. I...I care for her, a hell of a lot. I will not be fucking anything up about this."

All cheer again, "You got her to get back to Africa. That's impressive." Then, without changing tone, "outside we've got a bit of a sting-bat problem. No point in shooting them all - and besides, the scientists will start screaming the freaking place down." This is of less concern than the waste of bullets, but bears a mention. "You armed?"

Carl nods, unholstering the Glock 19 from the holster at his back. "I've got this."

Which he is well aware is likely a historical relic as far as any sort of weaponry on this base is concerned, but it's got a full clip (and he has a spare on his person) and he's deadly accurate with it.

"She's never told me about sting-bats."

Relic? Given the way Farzan just blinks at it (holy shit, he really is from the past)...yeah. Relic.

"Ok. Hopefully, you won't need it, but be ready to draw it. Stingbats...look, normally they are out in the jungle, doing what the do, and you can avoid them. There's a flock of 'em outside, though, all freaking confused. They sting you, and...I'll have to drag you to the infirmary. Hopefully won't actually attack us, though."

"All right."

He has no desire at all to be attacked by what he has surmised as flying stingrays - not just because of the questions it would raise when Farzan dragged him into medical.

"Anything else?"

Farzan smirks.

"Welcome to Pandora, Captain."

And with that, he steps back towards the door, making it slide open.

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