text;

[alittlesweptup]

ATTENTION TRANSPORT COMMUNITY:

Hullo there from your neighborhood detainee! I realize a number of you may have forgotten about us in the past week, but we remain cheerfully under lock up in the West Wing where we've sat for going on eleven days awaiting you lot to get your shit together so we can get this nonsense sorted. Now some of you may be unaware under what terms we agreed entered holding. In the interest of full disclosure, I shall outline those here:

1. We were to be granted protection from the general transport population until justice could be served.

2. We were to receive a fair trial and face whatever sentencing the transport population deemed fit despite the overwhelming lack of civil structures to support fair sentencing.

Despite CI Small and the Transport Police Force's valiant efforts, these terms have not been met over the past eleven days. Members of our group, supposedly under the protection of the police force, have been assaulted. There has been very little communication to us about any forthcoming trial; we have been assigned a lawyer and promised that we won't rot, but all evidence (network postings and otherwise) points to the contrary.

Very few of you know me personally, but I can tell you right now that I'm not the most patient sort you'll ever meet. As of this moment, we are being held here entirely under good faith. But allow me to make this infinitely clear:

You have no code of conduct or system of law.
You have nothing to charge us with.
You have no jurisdiction to hold us now, much less indefinitely.

And as of right now, I'm feeling a lot more vulnerable in a small room than I am protected. The personal benefits of me waiting here while you sort out a system of rules that we can be grandfathered in to breaking are beginning to look very bare indeed.

So as of now you have one week from today to figure out how you plan to deliver us a fair trial (as I think none of us would be content to see this brushed under the rug). If December 6th comes and goes, I'll be petitioning CI Small to release any of us who agree to absolve her and the transport police force of any responsibility for bodily harm rendered to our persons that might occur when released into the general population (given that many of you are apparently eager for our blood, though none but our own was spilled over the course of the base's lock down). If you'd like to do something about this, I'd recommend putting your heads together and getting it sorted sooner rather than later. Holding us here like animals when we've technically broken no laws and done nothing to set back the war effort - made infinitely clear by the AI's latest transmissions - while you run round going on about betrayal and what-if's is irresponsible at worst and unethical at best.

Warmest Regards,
C.C.

Comments

[anklets]

Where do you think you are, Mister Cutter?

[She thinks he'll consider her silly for asking he repeat himself, so preempting again:] Without your words having been tailored to the public.

[alittlesweptup]

[A muscle in his cheek jumps as he sets his jaw. Because that's the question, isn't it? And there's no reason to tell her anything like the truth, but then again what's the reason for any of this shit if it's not telling someone the long and the short of things.]

Fucked, mostly. People want our collective heads, but we can't use our one bargaining chip without causing more damage than it would be worth.

[Never mind the part where he's talking about someone's death like it's something of valuable, some hypothetical point in a grand argument. He may not like it, but the fact of the matter is that it is.]

If people knew someone had been killed outright, it'd do no one any favors - not us and not Small who's trying to keep as much of a lid on all this as she can - trying to keep this whole base from boiling over and venting whoever they like out the air locks.

[anklets]

[Holds her tongue with some effort until he's quietened, at which point Lenalee does, in fact, boil over, and the hot words seep from between tightly pursed lips:] You keep speaking of bargaining chips, but you've chosen to make them all out of the wrong things.

[That there's a lid at all to keep is a direct consequence of his actions and the actions of his ilk, and while she cannot wish entrapment on anyone, she nurses a frightful bitterness: these people set a spark to the tinder and now people marked (however shakily) as comrades have lifted their weapons to one another. Have died and killed.]

[alittlesweptup]

Look, I'm not saying it isn't shitty. [Even he's not so blind as all that.] But it's not wrong either.

[There was always a lid. It just seems like people weren't aware of it: like cooking frogs - put them in cold water and slowly heat it and they'll boil to death. Turn the heat up and suddenly they're aware that they're dying.

They'd just turned the heat up fast enough for people to notice.]

[anklets]

You're right. It isn't, [ here is Charlie's one easy victory, handed to him- with but one caveat: ] and yet you continue to need chips to bargain with.

aaaah I am SO sorry; dw notif was eaten and I just saw this D:

[alittlesweptup]

[He shrugs - spreads his hands.]

I haven't exactly got a selection of fine instruments to work with here, Lenalee. Blunt's just about the only option at the moment. If you've a better way to get this done with where I'm at right now, then let's hear it.

don't worry about it! I've lost many a notif before!

[anklets]

I haven't. [ she knows he knows that; she is a fighter, not a leader, all she can do is tug her dear ones out of the current before it snatches them up ] I'm sorry.

[alittlesweptup]

So am I.

[Which is one part slightly embittered sarcasm, but nine parts overwhelmingly honest. He is sorry: that it's come to this, that this is where he or she is, that this is where the transports in general are. But he's sorry for the collateral damage, not for anything else.]

[anklets]

[She wouldn't have expected anything more out of him.]

And what do you plan to do should your petition fall through?

[alittlesweptup]

[He goes all quiet and sharp for a moment - because if it comes to that, it might not go through. And while he doesn't want to put Small in an uncomfortable position...--]

Keep pushing. I don't care what happens, I just care that something does. None of this waiting about until someone else does it first nonsense.

[anklets]

[ quietly: ] You do care about what happens, Mister Cutter, or this situation would not have come about.

[alittlesweptup]

[There's no denying she's got him there. He goes momentarily sharp through the shoulder, mouth thinning. When he speaks again, it's clear that he's choosing his words carefully.]

You're right. I clearly give a damn. But I don't care what's done with us so long as decisions are made - so long as the transports are making decisions as a group or as close to it as possible instead of putting things off until someone else has to slap some temporary band-aid on the problem.

I don't want people pretending this is fixed just because they'd rather ignore the fact that there's an issue at all, alright? Because I've seen how things are done round here. Everyone's all talk and no action and we can't afford that nonsense anymore.

[anklets]

You needn't defend yourself against me, Mister Cutter. This kind of behaviour would have been suicide back home, and it will eventually become suicide here. I understand that.

[alittlesweptup]

[He scuffs his hands across his face, pinches the bridge of his nose - drives the nail of his thumb into his skin until it stings. Eventually he drops his hand away.]

Well I'm glad someone does. Now there's just two-hundred and ninety-nine transports to go, eh?

[anklets]

Do your best not to let this further embitter you.

[alittlesweptup]

Bit late for that, but I'll try to keep it in mind.

[He passes her a grin, all faux easy. But it's something, so maybe that counts.]

[anklets]

[ mirrors it ] "Further".

[alittlesweptup]

[That earns something slightly more genuine from his grin.]

Yeah, alright. Fair enough.

[anklets]

[A quick retort, almost wry, if you were the sort to believe Lenalee Lee could at all be it:] I'm always fair.