milliways_bar | (no subject)

Gaeta wasn't expecting to find a door this soon. Part of him, despite knowing (and knowing of) several people from Galactica who'd successfully reached Milliways, may have even expected that he wouldn't find a door at all after leaving Colonial One.

That could account for a lot: the way the door rocks backward with the full weight of Gaeta's shoulder behind it, the galley tray in his hand, the more casual civilian clothes (gone is the suit; gone, too, are the layers of someone living in a cold climate), the mildly dumbfounded expression as he stares around the room. After a moment, he heaves a sigh and makes for the nearest open seat -- in this case, one at the bar. His tray drops onto the bartop with an unceremonious clatter.

"Can I please at least finish my frakking dinner first?" he asks a beat later, too tired for the curse to carry any real heat. He gets no reply except a second napkin with a long string of zzzzzzzs scrawled across it, and so, with a quiet exhalation of, "Fine," he gets up and makes his way around the bar.

Eventually:

HAPPY HOUR
Hot Lunch
Coffee 43
After Dinner Mint

EXHIBIT A: A meal from Galactica's galley.
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(Here sits his unfinished dinner beneath the chalkboard.)

Offer suggestions to make it edible & drink half price.

It looks, for the record, like globs of something that might be mashed potato substitute, a bowl of wilted and depressed-looking greens, and a sickly-colored soup.

[tinytag: trudy chacon]

[OOC: ffffff. My body does not want to respond to pithy back room threats, alas; I am crashing and crashing hard. Mea culpa for bailing an hour early -- however, new tags are very much welcomed, and all slowtimes will be picked up!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Intriguing," Data says, then thinks for a moment.

"I suppose that having only a certain number of models is understandable. In my reality as well, there is only one model of android."

Oh.

The frown deepens a little: in faint concern, now. "Have you had any problems with it?"

"There are only two of us," Data states, gliding over that point. "And yes, my creator did have problems with his first successful attempt. My brother Lore was emotionally unstable, and killed over four hundred people before he was deactivated.

"Unfortunately, I did not know this when I reactivated him. I do not know where he is currently."

It's the us that registers first, and freezes Gaeta to the bar.

It's what follows, though, that makes him push himself straighter, a single inch at a time, and shutter off the last remaining traces of friendliness.

Four hundred people, he thinks blindly, and it seems like such a little number, but by now it could be more. Data said himself he doesn't know where the other android is, the -- this machine he turned on his own world's human population.

Gaeta can't say a word.

Data continues.

"I attempted to destroy him by transporting him out into space, but I discovered later that he was picked up by a ship of traders. When I saw him again, he forcibly switched me off and escaped before my crewmates arrived and activated me again."

He pauses. "Sometimes I wonder if I should be looking for him. However, as far as I am aware, he has not hurt anyone else."

Data finally noticed Gaeta's reaction. "Is something wrong?"

Gaeta swallows.

Low, "Is there any reason why you think he wouldn't have hurt anyone else?"

Data pauses before answering.

"Lore always acts in order to get what he wants," he begins, a little slowly. "I do not believe that killing anyone would benefit him at this point. He is better at manipulating people.

"But I cannot say for certain. Perhaps there is some measure of... 'wishful thinking,' on my part."

I turned out to be --

An idealist. There's no sin in that.

A population number six thousand less than it was a year ago would beg to differ.

The set of his jaw firms. "I'd find it better to err on the side of caution in cases like those."

Data thinks about this.

"I understand what you are saying," he says. "Perhaps if I were at leisure I would be looking for him. But I currently have duties aboard the Enterprise.

"If Starfleet thought that Lore was a major threat, they would have sent us after him."

And Gaeta, of all people, certainly isn't in any position to doubt military leadership, let alone the leadership in a military not his own.

Still: it's an AI. One that's murdered people. How can they not --

Gaeta shakes his head, and looks away.

Data has not really picked up on how drastically the mood of the conversation has changed. He does wonder, though, why Gaeta is not replying. Data leans forward a little, trying to catch his eye. It might not work.

It doesn't, for a moment; less because Gaeta hasn't noticed and more because he's attempting to reign in his frustrations.

Here, it's neutral ground. As bartender -- even only temporarily -- it's his job to serve everyone, even if they want nothing more than conversation. It's his job.

He fastens his thoughts on that as tightly as he can before turning back to Data. Levelly: "Is there anything else you need?"

Data thinks about it for a moment.

"I do not believe so," he answers. "Perhaps I should be returning to my ship. Thank you for your time," he says, sincerely. It has been a most interesting conversation.

He tips a small nod to Data, frigidly polite.

And forces himself to add, after a beat, "Have a good night."

(It's considerably less sincere.)

Data returns the nod, then gets up to leave.

[OOC: Thanks for the awesome, awesome thread! ^.^]

[OOC: Oh man, thank you. :D! (And thanks also for, er, putting up with my glacial tagging speed. >.>)]