hallelujahpilot | (no subject)

(no subject)

There is practice to let off steam, and there is practice because practice is important and can mean the difference between getting home in one piece and being, shall we say, eaten.

So the gun-range has a pilot today, albeit it one dressed in the Marine uniform instead of her flightsuit. She has a handgun instead of a rifle (her thigh-holster is empty - no point in practicing with a weapon you aren't going to use) and, like before, the bullet holes cluster around the bull's eye.

Judging by the number, she's been here for a while, and she is just sliding in her last magazine when she catches sight of someone approaching.

"Mornin', Jack."

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"It...goes as Pandora does. Typical small-town bullshit, and we had a decent ole megastorm the other week which stirred up the floating mountains pretty good. But, no one's died recently, so can't complain."

"That's always a good thing," he says. "Small-town bullshit?"

"We only get new people once a year, and it's a pretty small base - two thousand, tops. So, yeah, small-town bullshit."

Then she glances over at him, looking wry.

"You ask questions like a cop, you know."

His mouth flattens. "Probably because I was one."

There is silence for a moment as her eyes scan his face.

"Okay," she says at last. Then, as if she hadn't asked the question, she continues.

"So, not a lot of fresh blood, and the scientists don't like the Marines, and the Marines sure as hell don't like the scientists, and the miners are an odd bunch, too, but they'll side with us against the scientists, and no one trusts the admin guys." She grins. "And yours truly is somewhat stuck in the middle."

Edited 2010-05-26 00:54 (UTC)

"Of course. I imagine there's a lot of times when what the Marines want to do--or want you to do--doesn't match the scientists' objectives," he says with a wry smile. "I know the feeling."

She snorts. "Goddamn hippies. I mean, I get the whole different objectives thing, but they seem to have missed the 'Nature, red in tooth and claw' memo. Which is mostly where I have issue with them."

Mostly, not entirely.

The way they look down on her for not having a degree grates, too.

"Yeah, civilians tend to not realize just how dangerous some situations are, probably because they don't have the training to look for the threats. It's not something they're used to doing, so they dangers just go right over their heads without them even seeing them."

"Thank you!"

It's so nice, finding people who agree with her on this.

Jack ducks his head to hide a smile. "Guess it depends on what threats we're talking about, whether that's sometimes a good thing or not."

He hesiates for a moment, rubbing the scar on the back of his right hand. "I worked in counter-terrorism. Some of the things we dealt with...it was probably a good thing people didn't know about every threat. They'd never leave their houses otherwise."

Ah. This...would explain how closed off he is, yes.

She nods, slowly. "Yeah, I get that. But, there's a line ya gotta tread."

Jack nods. "Yeah, there's not being aware and then there's being an idiot. The group you're dealing with of all people should be aware that nature isn't all pretty forests and fluffy animals."

"They study it. They just...don't like the idea the we have to protect ourselves, too. When it comes down to it. Which...unfortunately sometimes happens."

Then she smiles, the expression tight.

"And I could bitch for hours, so I'll stop myself before I bore you."

Edited 2010-05-26 02:24 (UTC)

"So it's more using force against the...creatures when you have to that they object to?"

"Call it a bizare form of white liberal guilt - human guilt - but, yeah."

"Yeah. They should know that it might not feel good, but sometimes you don't have much of a choice, though."

And then there are times when that explanation doesn't work--at least with himself. Though in that case it's not killing an animal. It's the times he's had to kill someone he knows to prevent a larger disaster, and for a moment he can see the look on Curtis' face again, as he realized that Jack had shot him and he was bleeding out.

She snorts.

"Yeah. But that'd require 'em to be interested in humans. And they ain't."

Jack's mouth flattens into a thin smile. "Yeah, true. Though I'm not sure I can blame them. Animals have got to be easier to predict and deal with--even when they're trying to eat you--than humans."

She takes a deep breath, and then shakes it.

"Humans, humanoids...I don't see the difference." She shrugs, slids her hand-gun back into her holster. "But, that's my posting for you."

"And it's still better than your Earth. And you haven't just moved in here?" Jack says with the same, grim smile.

She smirks at him.

"Nah. Can't really fly here. Be boring."

"Says the woman who flew in here in the first place."

"That was interestin'," Trudy allows, "but not much to do here, is there? Just...fly in circles above an itty bitty area. Not really my cup of coffee."

"True. I guess out there you have more space to fly, even if it is a lot more dangerous."

She smiles at him, the expresion beautiful and happy and, really, she might have issues with her posting, but mostly she loves it.

What she says is, "I stay here, I might as well be flyin' in some botanic gardens. And," she shrugs. The metahpor 'bird in a cage' may or may not spring to mind.

"It's fun. I bitch, but it's...it's fun."