"If we have time we can probably bind this somehow, make it a little sturdier. Or transfer it to a series of notebooks." Do they have time, that's the real question, but he figures Star knows their timetable and will keep him posted. "That might make your attempts easier, but it also puts at risk the information getting out and into the wrong hands."
It's a good plan, though. The more people who know how to fix things, be it technology or each other in the field, the better off everyone is going to be as a whole. Specialization is great when you have a large workforce but it's almost useless in this kind of generational war with very few soldiers.
She nodded once, shuffling through the cards again, the one that she pulled
out was Check the binder Before she jotted down: Those are the
ones that aren't polished yet. Finished ones go in the binder.
She tilted her head at the question, studying him for a moment, surprised
once again at that willingness to help, but the answer was easy:
Whenever you're ready. Do you have anything to pack? She had
everything she'd arrived with, plus a couple of other things she'd picked
up along the way, because she'd been doing better than just getting by in
her six months in this leg of the timeline trying to find him. But
everything she had was in her bag, which meant she was ready to go at any
time.
She was fairly sure that they'd expected her to just grab him and come
back, especially since she was the last option, only two of the others had
come back, and they'd come back empty-handed. But considering that her
return point was set to only a half hour after her exit point had been, she
was more than willing to let him collect any belongings he wanted to bring.
"Gotcha." Well, at least his idea was useful at some point, but it sounded like she had a handle on the minutiae. John took a moment to think over whether or not he needed to pack anything, but he had his jacket with his notebook in it, the phone at the motel was a throw-away... "Not really." It's been a while since he's really lived anywhere, or had anything worth taking into the future with him.
"There's not a lot here for me. We might as well head out sooner than later."
She studied him for a moment more before nodding, putting the notepad and the binder-in-progress back into her bag before shouldering it as she unfolded from her seat, sorting through the cards once more and pulling out: Follow me.
It wasn't a long walk to the park she'd first showed up in, she knew where her landmark was because it was in the courtyard of the Resistance base of operations, hopping the time stream always worked better with a landmark.
The landmark in this case was a large tree stump, charred on one side either from a lightning strike or a bar-b-q pit fire that had gotten out of control some time ago. She nodded once when they'd reached it, looking over at him once more, just a little concerned. Out came the notepad again: Have you done this before?
John followed her without comment, a little surprised maybe that their destination was so close by. He'd passed by this part countless times in the last few months. Maybe it made sense, if they had an idea of where they were going to find him in the first place; despite everything, or perhaps because of it, he usually stuck around the Pacific coast
Her concern was noticed and John found himself shoving his hands in his pockets and looking away with a frown. "Just once but that was almost a decade ago." He jerks his chin towards her bags. "Weren't able to bring stuff with us."
The concern was still there, just a little, but a smile broke through all the same, jotting down another quick note: That just means the calibrations were wrong. Lucky for you: Chief engineer.
The notepad was traded for the trigger, and her brow creased a little as she double-checked the settings before offering him a hand, smile emerging once more, one brow lifting in something that was almost a challenge.
Changing places in the time stream was never comfortable, like being compressed and in free fall at the same time, moving too fast for the vertigo to really set in until things stopped. Which was why, even despite the cheer that went up from the small crowd waiting in the courtyard, Star staggered off to go vomit quietly in one of the scrawny shrubs lining the area.
John remembers this feeling, though it's a bit of an improvement with his clothes still on. Appearing in the future naked and disoriented is not his favorite thing. Neither, for the record, is the way his stomach and head spin independently of one another when Star lets go of his hand and he can't even manage three steps in her direction before he's forced to his knees by vertigo.
Someone hands him water after a moment and he's glad for the moment he can stand up and drink.
"Hey," he says to the small group. He doesn't know these people but they know him, so none of them seem terribly put off by the fact that he's not terribly talkative beyond learning names and what people are good at.
Star let the introductions and hand-shaking go on for a few minutes, long
enough for her to get a drink of water at well and will her own balance
back to where it should be before she slipped in, catching John's elbow and
shooing the crowd off so she could lead him away to her workstation.
Communication there was easier, partly because of her typing speed and
partly because the keyboard she used was cobbled together and had a suite
of keys that were whole words to go along with the standard letters.
How are you? Still woozy? Want to dive right in or
take a breather and get a room assignment first? She was already
skimming through progress reports, she knew she'd actually only been gone a
half hour, but she wanted to make sure there hadn't been a miscalculation
and she'd actually been gone for the six months she'd been in the past. So
far everything seemed to be in order, and that was enough to put her at
ease.
"I don't really care about the room, diving in is good." A place to sleep was a place to sleep. Sharing it would probably be weird, but he could handle it. This, all of this, took precedence.
Besides he knows if he takes too much downtime right away, gives himself the room to think? John's mind will end up nowhere good, and he doesn't even know if they have alcohol here. Asking seems like a gesture in poor taste.
Instead of asking potentially bad questions he takes in the tech around them, the pieces cobbled together and crafted into something new. He can appreciate it more in person than on paper. "You've done a damned good job here."
Her smile was relieved, and a little proud, as well as being more than a little surprised at that statement, and the reply was: Thanks, we do our best. Everybody pitches in.
She pulled up a couple of short video clips, along with a written report: This is everything we have on the attack. It was one of our border patrols, south of here, and east, inland. Which everyone had thought was strange in and of itself, but she wasn't going to mention that part just yet, not unless he did first.
The machines all look like older models, but the killswitch frequency doesn't do anything more than slow them down a little. You can see when our guys turn on the screamers. She paused then, realizing that he probably didn't know what they were and even though she figured that he'd be able to guess given the context, she still added: The sound generators, I can show you one if you want to see it up close.
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no subject
It's a good plan, though. The more people who know how to fix things, be it technology or each other in the field, the better off everyone is going to be as a whole. Specialization is great when you have a large workforce but it's almost useless in this kind of generational war with very few soldiers.
"When are we leaving?"
no subject
She nodded once, shuffling through the cards again, the one that she pulled out was Check the binder Before she jotted down: Those are the ones that aren't polished yet. Finished ones go in the binder.
She tilted her head at the question, studying him for a moment, surprised once again at that willingness to help, but the answer was easy: Whenever you're ready. Do you have anything to pack? She had everything she'd arrived with, plus a couple of other things she'd picked up along the way, because she'd been doing better than just getting by in her six months in this leg of the timeline trying to find him. But everything she had was in her bag, which meant she was ready to go at any time.
She was fairly sure that they'd expected her to just grab him and come back, especially since she was the last option, only two of the others had come back, and they'd come back empty-handed. But considering that her return point was set to only a half hour after her exit point had been, she was more than willing to let him collect any belongings he wanted to bring.
no subject
"There's not a lot here for me. We might as well head out sooner than later."
no subject
It wasn't a long walk to the park she'd first showed up in, she knew where her landmark was because it was in the courtyard of the Resistance base of operations, hopping the time stream always worked better with a landmark.
The landmark in this case was a large tree stump, charred on one side either from a lightning strike or a bar-b-q pit fire that had gotten out of control some time ago. She nodded once when they'd reached it, looking over at him once more, just a little concerned. Out came the notepad again: Have you done this before?
sorry for lack of tags today
Her concern was noticed and John found himself shoving his hands in his pockets and looking away with a frown. "Just once but that was almost a decade ago." He jerks his chin towards her bags. "Weren't able to bring stuff with us."
No worries, it happens
The notepad was traded for the trigger, and her brow creased a little as she double-checked the settings before offering him a hand, smile emerging once more, one brow lifting in something that was almost a challenge.
Changing places in the time stream was never comfortable, like being compressed and in free fall at the same time, moving too fast for the vertigo to really set in until things stopped. Which was why, even despite the cheer that went up from the small crowd waiting in the courtyard, Star staggered off to go vomit quietly in one of the scrawny shrubs lining the area.
no subject
Someone hands him water after a moment and he's glad for the moment he can stand up and drink.
"Hey," he says to the small group. He doesn't know these people but they know him, so none of them seem terribly put off by the fact that he's not terribly talkative beyond learning names and what people are good at.
no subject
Star let the introductions and hand-shaking go on for a few minutes, long enough for her to get a drink of water at well and will her own balance back to where it should be before she slipped in, catching John's elbow and shooing the crowd off so she could lead him away to her workstation.
Communication there was easier, partly because of her typing speed and partly because the keyboard she used was cobbled together and had a suite of keys that were whole words to go along with the standard letters.
How are you? Still woozy? Want to dive right in or take a breather and get a room assignment first? She was already skimming through progress reports, she knew she'd actually only been gone a half hour, but she wanted to make sure there hadn't been a miscalculation and she'd actually been gone for the six months she'd been in the past. So far everything seemed to be in order, and that was enough to put her at ease.
no subject
Besides he knows if he takes too much downtime right away, gives himself the room to think? John's mind will end up nowhere good, and he doesn't even know if they have alcohol here. Asking seems like a gesture in poor taste.
Instead of asking potentially bad questions he takes in the tech around them, the pieces cobbled together and crafted into something new. He can appreciate it more in person than on paper. "You've done a damned good job here."
no subject
She pulled up a couple of short video clips, along with a written report: This is everything we have on the attack. It was one of our border patrols, south of here, and east, inland. Which everyone had thought was strange in and of itself, but she wasn't going to mention that part just yet, not unless he did first.
The machines all look like older models, but the killswitch frequency doesn't do anything more than slow them down a little. You can see when our guys turn on the screamers. She paused then, realizing that he probably didn't know what they were and even though she figured that he'd be able to guess given the context, she still added: The sound generators, I can show you one if you want to see it up close.