inthebiblicalsense | TLV IC Inbox

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[In a very serious, business tone, Abel's answering machine sounds after any attempted calls that aren't responded to right away.]

You've reached Abel. I am not available at the moment, but I'll get back to you as soon as I can. If this is urgent, leave the line open.

And if this is Fitz I hope you're having a good day.

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Well, can I ask that you ignore our roles if we are going to be participating in a purely personal and self-indulgent project?

If I'm tinkering for fun, what role I fill on board has nothing to do with it aside from the fact that I didn't need to ask anyone's help to get into the enclosure.

Perhaps.

When would you like to proceed?

[And the circle begins anew.]

I am available most evenings. Some mornings, depending on the gym schedule, but I'm flexible.

What I would like to know is when you would be interested, Thrawn. I want to make time for you.

[welcome to frustrating small talk, the series]

I have explained that I have been pulled off all projects and can only take what is assigned to me. Maintenance is in remarkably decent shape now, so I have an abundance of time to give.

Would this evening suffice?

[There is a difference between willingness and availability, Thrawn. What ever. That's good enough.]

After dinner sounds perfect. Thank you.

Very well. I will meet you at the door of the Enclosure.

I'll be there.

[And be there he is, wearing something a little closer to what he might have back home, the white, boxy tank top is as close to his regulation undershirt as he could possibly get, the slacks and boots a little less so, but there was an effort made.

He waits outside the enclosure door, scrolling through a list of programmed maintenance simulations on his own data pad, a holoscree tablet and seems to be trying to pick one while he waits for Thrawn.]

[Thrawn has no clothing except what has been issued to him; has no real concept of fashion, anyway, and thus arrives in his standard military work-out gear himself. He walks with purpose, but there's an air to him that speaks of distraction, malaise, and sadness.

His pupils are visible, which is rare; ordinarily his eyes are glowing, blazing red in darkness. Here he appears weary, like the years have suddenly caught up with him.

He stands at attention near Abel, at parade rest, silent and watchful in a detached sort of curiosity]

[Abel looks over the screen at Thrawn and tries not to make a face. There is definitely a feeling that is lingering with the thought that offering to spend time with someone because you are trying to apologize and be helpful is returned with the person looking like they'd rather be somewhere else. He glances back down at the pad and pauses, finger hovering over an option.]

Did you see the Anti-matter cannons they had on board the Narrenschiff?

[Perhaps a shift of gear is in order.]

They were the smallest I'd ever seen in my life, but still had the capacity for great harm. [His smile is small, but hopeful.] Would you like to see a proper one?

[unknowing - as usual - about how he comes off to others, simply acknowledging that he will always run astray due to unknown perceptions, Thrawn gives a brief nod. All business; this is easier than allowing his vulnerabilities to show. When he has a task to do he will fulfill it, but evidently this ship and its people despise his ideas as much as his own did.

Never mind. He will graduate, and leave, and not become emotionally attached. It was an error to trust, to hope. He knows divesting of feelings once sown is difficult - Abel is likable, Thrawn enjoys his company - but it will not prevent Abel from zigzagging when Thrawn steps out of line. He will follow the line as best he can, and until then, be the obedient inmate who, conversely, will be told to prefer absolute freedom and chaos over lifesaving tools.

This is fine.

His thoughts drift - contradictory, swirling, a maelstrom where once was order and a calm sea - and it is reflected in a contradictory way of distance, rigidity, and an absence of thought or feeling. This too, he knows is dangerous, but it is less dangerous because doing so will not bring Florian's ire like his more ambitious goals will.

This is Abel's project. Abel is asking for assistance. He will serve with all his skills and none of his heart.]

I have seen anti-matter used as bombs, as fuel, and as hyperdrive rings. Not as cannons. But I agree that they have the capacity for great harm.

If it is necessary in order to fix one, then yes.

[If Abel were a psychic he'd probably smack the other man with a newspaper and remind him that while they both make overthinking look like a sport, it isn't one.

Seeing how he is now, and thankfully so, he shrugs and enters in the program for Central command, the Anti-matter cannon segment. He'd designed it separately as the whole damn thing took up such a large portion of the base that it had become rather tedious doing it all at once. The white halls of Central command start to materialize at the base of the stairs and Abel nods towards them.]

I am actually curious to hear what you think of the design. It's the last defense of the Alliance and the largest cannon ever made, at least where I come from.

[He can't say that statement would hole up across the multi-verse.]

[Thrawn waits at parade rest, hands behind his back, watching with a sort of mild disinterest counterintuitive to his usual intense like of foreign machinery. He is fast coming to the conclusion that there will be no escape from death for him, so why bother? He has failed utterly and completely.

He walks inside and down the stairs at Abel's prompting]

Your Alliance equates size with strength?

I wouldn't say that, no. The entire fleet itself is made up of carriers and small two-manned starfighters outside of central command.

If we had more resources it might be a different story but this is about as much as we can handle. The starfighters are constantly in production, and we lose teams daily.

[Making their way to a door, Abel inputs a code and it opens to the maintenance void beneath the control room, spanning the length of the gun. It's so long it's difficult to judge the actual length, looking down the straight.]

This is essentially the last defense at the edge of Earth's galaxy. No one has gotten passed this gun in the twenty-three years we've been at war.

[And that will remain so once he's gotten his deal to end the war.]

Interesting. Are you at a lack of resources to build your fighters, a lack of people to pilot them, or both?

[Thrawn waits at the door and enters when Abel unlocks it. He's drawing calculations in his head, measuring with eerily glowing red eyes]

Explain to me how it accomplishes that.

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