E. B. Sledge (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
withtheoldbreed) wrote2015-01-05 07:52 pm
withtheoldbreed) wrote2015-01-05 07:52 pm
d-day + 52 ✯ video
[It's relatively early in the morning when Sledge clicks on his video feed, and he looks tired, maybe even exhausted. It's also obvious he's not in his own cabin - the room behind him looks more like a shack, and although it might not be as clear, he's sitting on the floor, half leaning against the legs of a cot. One of Snafu's arms is visible, hanging limply off the side of the cot like he's just asleep.]
... Snafu's in a coma. [The word sits uncomfortably in his mouth, and it kind of shows in his face. He's read about barge comas obviously, thanks to Chromie's welcome packet, but it's one thing to read about it, another to try shaking your buddy awake and not be able to, no matter how hard you try.
He takes a breath and steels himself, trying to push it back and get what needs to get done, done.
(Except his eyes still look pretty dead, but that's not really anything new.)]
I'm gonna need a hand getting him to the infirmary.
[Private to Kieren]
I thought it'd be better than just leavin' him here. [It's what the pamphlet suggested, anyway, and he sort of feels more comfortable leaving his friend with people who can monitor him and make sure he doesn't get worse (if that's even possible?), but he still sounds uncertain. Like maybe this - making decisions about his friend's well being - is overstepping.
Which is weird to think about someone you've pretty much been physically stuck with for over a month, but here we are.]
... Snafu's in a coma. [The word sits uncomfortably in his mouth, and it kind of shows in his face. He's read about barge comas obviously, thanks to Chromie's welcome packet, but it's one thing to read about it, another to try shaking your buddy awake and not be able to, no matter how hard you try.
He takes a breath and steels himself, trying to push it back and get what needs to get done, done.
(Except his eyes still look pretty dead, but that's not really anything new.)]
I'm gonna need a hand getting him to the infirmary.
[Private to Kieren]
I thought it'd be better than just leavin' him here. [It's what the pamphlet suggested, anyway, and he sort of feels more comfortable leaving his friend with people who can monitor him and make sure he doesn't get worse (if that's even possible?), but he still sounds uncertain. Like maybe this - making decisions about his friend's well being - is overstepping.
Which is weird to think about someone you've pretty much been physically stuck with for over a month, but here we are.]
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(The pamphlet had, after all, explained that people disappear without warning sometimes, too. As familiar with that notion as Gene is, he doesn't like to think about someone he cares about vanishing while his back is turned somewhere where they're supposed to be safe.)]
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T'Pol thinks it might be everything, but also it might be that in some ways, these people can afford to be soft. To trust. That does frustrate her.]
It's sounds as though there's nothing to be concerned about.
[It's ironic as hell. She'd be concerned, maybe. If she had friends to be concerned about.]
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[Borderline exhaustion is all that blunts the question to something more conversational than annoyed, because he is concerned, because it's unsettling and strange to see Snaf motionless and not grinding his teeth, or shifting uncomfortably, or stretching out to take up as much space as possible in their already cramped foxhole. He doesn't like it anymore than he likes the rest of the stuff he can't explain here.]
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[Her voice is hard in response, hot instead of cool, because she has learned from Human temper, because her own temper burns when she gives it the barest bit of fuel.]
What choice do we have?
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[Fine, you win, is maybe what he really means. He doesn't really want to argue with anyone about it, doesn't want to dwell on the how or the why.
(Mostly, he just wants his friend back.)]
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Your friend has no choice in being here, just as he has no choice in sleeping his days away. If you're lucky, the advice you've been given is correct and he'll wake.
[If not, well, they'll have no choice in that either, will they?]
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[Look some emotions are just difficult to interpret, all right.]
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Also there's really only response she knows to anger towards herself, and that's a fairly constant one: stay on guard for an attack. At least there's no immediate fear over a commlink.]
You're not allowed a job.
[Besides wardening, but also what. what the fuck is with this ship.]
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I was told jobs are for inmates, not wardens. [Some of the anger bleeds out, replaced with something that's more just bitterness, and it's not directed at her.]
We're just supposed to be here to help people graduate.
[And that's fine, really, that's why he's here and what he's been ordered to do, but. The more he sits around and thinks about what happened, the worse he feels about all of it, and having something to do would make it easier to get his mind off it.]
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She stares at him, because 'help people graduate' is an arbitrary task at best. He's been ordered to sit on his hands, and that is fairly baffling. Is he supposed to breathe down his inmate's neck all day, every day?
T'Pol thinks she'd break Rogers' neck if he did that.
Well. She's try.]
This ship is poorly run.
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Haven't had this much time to myself in years.
[And he feels like he's going to go insane if he doesn't come up with something to do with himself that isn't just sitting around reading.]
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Which really doesn't sit well with her at all. The understanding part.]
I'm sure you could find something to occupy yourself with.
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[And writing. He's still been keeping notes, except these are more like a journal now that he doesn't have to worry about his book falling into enemy hands or anything like that.]
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