milliways_bar | (no subject)

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The change of scenery has been nice, but Tarik knows the time to go back to Paradiso is coming quickly. As much as he needed a respite from the stress and the chaos of the Combined Army's offensive, he can't afford to stay any longer, no matter that time has stayed still on the other side of the door (He has checked a couple times, just to ease his conscience).

Thus he sits at a well-lit table, tagelmust and greatcoat folded on a chair by his side, the disassembled rifle he just finished cleaning spread before him. Nevermind what time does back home it has been a couple weeks here and he'd rather be sure all of his equipment is in perfect operational state before going back. The Paradiso jungle will see that it doesn't last long like that.

He has decided to take a break before reassembling the rifle and moving to the back-mounted environmental control unit, and though he would never admit it, he's using that time to people-watch. It's quite fascinating

[OOC: Occasional slowtimes expected.]

[Tinytag: Tarik Mansuri]

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The rifle probably reminds her of the CHinese assault rifles of her own world, though the materials are mostly plastic and the shapes are a little more refined. Also, this one has what looks like a second, stubby barrel.

"It's an Askari assault rifle. Standard issue in the Haqqislam army. Not state-of-the-art by a long way, but reliable and sturdy for modern all-plastic crap." From the sound of it, 'reliable and sturdy' are qualities he likes in a gun.

Ellen wrinkles her nose. "Plastics break down," she says. "They're all right for some things, but metal and advanced ceramics last longer. At least, from what I've seen."

If there were any guns with plastic casings back home they've probably all succumbed to the ravages of time by now. Plastic in the Vault had to be cared for and maintained as if it were eggshells to ensure that it would be available for the next generation. When you're down to the last few drops of oil to be wrung out of a planet, it affects what you can do in terms of petrochemistry.

"Then again you probably have different formulas for your plastics than we did. It doesn't look like it would go brittle or crack under pressure."

"Most of the receiver is actually high-impact ceramics, and the other bits aren't exactly brittle, either." He admits a tad grudgingly.

"But you still can't break someone's face properly with one of these plastic butts." He looks up at her again, a wry little grin gleaming in his dusky, weathered face. "I assume your interest in weapons is somehow professional?" He has seen some definitely military or paramilitary types around here.

"I don't think it's ever come down to that at home," Ellen says thoughtfully. "The face thing, I mean. I don't think ghouls count, anyway." She ducks her head. "I guess you could say that. The closest thing I have to a job right now is a sort of freelance security position. That, and I've worked closely with a mercenary company that I'm hoping to hire for a security job in the future. My name's Ellen Park, by the way."

Tarik's arches an eyebrow at the word 'ghoul', as if it reminded him of something, then just shrugs and offers his hand.

"Tarik Mansuri. I was in my share of boarding actions back in the day. Nowadays it's all special ops-style work, which calls for a... Different approach to close-quarters combat." Tarik gives Ellen a long, measuring look. Having worked with mercenaries before, he has nothing against them collectively. There are some mercs he'd have at his back rather than some people in his own army.

"Oh, that's different," Ellen says. "This is just.... well, mostly it's trying not to get killed by everything and everyone that lives in the DC ruins. My world had a nuclear war about two hundred years ago and it's never really recovered. I'm trying to secure the place that my father's planning on building a large-scale water purifier, and I don't really have a lot of other choices for fending off mutants and raiders and things like that."

Nuclear war. Now that sounds like a good way to fuck up the life of everyone in the whole planet.

"Wow. I'm sorry for what happened to your world. Sounds like a harsh place to survive in. My own homeworld is arid, sometimes harsh, but all we had to face when settling on it were natural hazards." There is a pause, and Tarik's brow furrows.

"You said your father wants to build a water purifier, right?"

"I understand there are parts of it where things are better than the Capital Wasteland, but I've never been there," Ellen says. "I've only heard about anywhere outside the Wastes from a woman I met here. She's from the other side of the continent from me. Her tribe was doing all right for themselves up until this year, so that's something."

She nods. "He started working on the idea before I was born. He had to put it on hold for a few years, but he's back at work on it now. Lots of people have small ones, but he's trying to build a purifier that can supply the whole Wasteland."

Tarik nods again, thoughtfully. Like many Haqqislamites, he has a soft spot for people struggling against the odds.

"Look, I don't know exactly how this place works. I'm not completely sure any of this is real, to be honest, but... Back home I -could- get my hands on some tech that could help you." One good thing of surviving for so long is you end up doing a lot of favors down the road. He wouldn't mind calling some of them in for the right cause. "My people are very good at terraforming."

"I'll mention the possibility to my father," Ellen says. "I've been cleaning up some business away from where he's working, so I haven't seen him in a while- when I go back home next I'll let him know. He's been working with the notes and information he was able to gather on a terraforming module from before the War that was called a Garden of Eden Creation Kit; it's supposed to be able to overcome a lot of hazards like radiation and heavy metal contamination. If he can't replicate its effects at the purifier based on the notes he has, he'll probably be very much interested in viable alternatives. Thank you."

Edited 2010-03-29 17:45 (UTC)

"Good. I don't really know when I'll be back once I go." A nod towards the rifle and other equipment on the table. "There is a war going on, and it isn't going exactly well for Humanity so far. But mention the possibility to your father, and I will try to bring you something helpful." He talks like offering his help like that was the most natural thing.

"Oh, you've got aliens too?" Ellen asks. "Are yours the little green three-fingered kind with energy weapons and a tendency to eat tentacles and worms for food?"

Because if they're able to press a full-on war somewhere else, then ...well, then they might come back looking for revenge for their two ships, and Ellen's not sure she's really ready to deal with that kind of thing.

"No, they aren't little, or green. I think the Shasvastii have three fingers, but we have little footage of them and survivor accounts are still confused and unreliable." His face has set into an impassive seriousness. This is not a subject to his liking, it seems.

"The only energy weapon we have evidence of them using is some kind of plasma gun. Mostly they use solid-projectile guns. Oddly-designed but with familiar functions." That seriousness is changing as he speaks, turning into determination.

Ellen nods. "My apologies, then," she says. "I didn't mean to bring up an unpleasant subject. We... there were two scout ships, or at least I think they were scout ships; they'd been abducting people and they had some kind of death ray energy cannon, but there was only one cannon per ship, and I've seen enough vids to know that a real warship would have a lot more armament than that."

Tarik sighs and shakes his head. "No apologies needed. It is an unpleasant subject, but an important one, and I shouldn't let my mind stray from it. Our encounters have not been naval, but on land, on the one planet they are trying to establish a beachhead on..." The shake of his head speaks volumes.

"They are beating us back on all fronts. So far, we can still attribute it to surprise and the strangeness of the enemy, but we need to stem their advance soon. And we won't be able to do that unless we start to stage an united defense." There is new tension in his voice at that last bit, a kind of suppressed anger.

"Do you have any prospects lined up?" Ellen says curiously. "I don't have much of a background in anything like military tactics or strategy, and all I know about uniting people is the kind of stuff Reverend Avellone taught me about how to keep a congregation together. It's got to be complicated, pulling a larger group together out of lots of smaller populations."

"Prospects?" Tarik shakes his head. "Not that I would know much, I'm just a soldier, but I don't think the politicians have realized just how bad things are, yet. At least not enough to overcome their petty differences." There is a small and thoughtful pause.

"All right, I admit they aren't actually 'petty', at least not all of them. But still, in the face of this kind of thing? It's about time to sit together and do something."

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