Prisonstuck IX

[polariity]

[By this point, it's been a few weeks since he's been with Dualscar, and he's adjusted to it. The seadweller doesn't always stay at the hive, which is understandable. Someone of his caste is expected to stay busy. Each time he returns, the Psiioniic nearly clings to him, wanting to hear news- or even lack of it- concerning his three friends.]

[Besides that, on his own, the Psiioniic mostly sticks to the library. Occasionally he explores the large hive again, wondering if anything has changed. It's a calm routine. For someone like him, it nearly feels unnatural.]

[...Which is quite possibly one reason explaining why, one night, he manages to get a hold of yellow dye and interrupts a drone on laundry duty. The next night, and it's done.]

[A bored rebel psionic was a disaster just waiting.]

[By now, he's stayed in the kitchen, idly chattering at his drone as he watches the kitchen worker make breakfast. It's almost like he's entirely forgotten about his little prank.]

[Which he hasn't, but he needs something to do to pass the time until it's discovered.]

Comments

[badpirattitude]

[And it's around breakfast time that Dualscar wanders back, emerging from under the water that leads to his part of the hive and making his way to the kitchen. He can smell breakfast cooking, and he's tired and hungry. He stumbles to the kitchen, pulling up a chair across from the Psiioniic and flopping dramatically into it.]

Hey.

[He's gotten used to having the other troll around, to his quiet presence in the hive. He knows the Psiioniic mostly stays in the library, which is fine, and spends his time presumably reading and chittering with that drone he's so attached to. And eating oranges. Eating boxes and boxes of oranges.]

[There hasn't been much physical contact since those first couple of days, beyond quick, shy kisses on the cheek and one-armed squeezes in passing. A large part of that is his own fault; he retires to his underwater quarters at the end of every day that he's here, where the Psiioniic can't follow. Dualscar isn't sure why, exactly, he does that, only that something compels him to, and he sleeps there rather than in the little room behind the shelf in the library.]

[polariity]

Hey yourthelf.

[He leans over to run his hand across Dualscar's arm before he pulls back. By this point, he doesn't know what is supposed to be between them, how much he can give before Dualscar gets scared and pushes him away once more. So tentative touches are... Well, he'd be happier with more, but he'll take what he can get.]

You act like you've been thwimming around all night inthtead of jutht waking up.

[badpirattitude]

[The skin on Dualscar's arm feels like it's burning where the Psiioniic touched him, but it's a good burn, a pleasurable one, and he doesn't complain.]

I wwas.

[He rubs his eyes with both hands.]

Got a call from the Fleet, had to swwim out to one of the ships and deal wwith some latenight hoofbeastshit.

[He looks up then, meeting the Psiioniic's eyes.]

Your friends really need to be more careful wwith howw close they get to Fleet ships.

[polariity]

[That's one way to dispel his good mood.]

[The Psiioniic's breath catches as he hears that news and for a moment he just stares. After a second, he sinks back against the chair with his palms pressing up tight against one another and knocking against his lips.]

Right.

[It's an easy spiral to sink into his own thoughts, panicked yet calm all at the same time. Sensing the shift in mood, the drone quickly begins to peel yet another orange.]

[badpirattitude]

Don't look like that, they're fine.

[The kitchen drone brings Dualscar a cup of tea, and he wraps his hands around it, sipping it gratefully. It was a long swim back from the ships, enough to make even him cold.]

Seems like the various helmsmen on the Fleet ships don't wwant them captured, either; they keep managing to just slip beloww the radar.

[There's sadness in his voice when he mentions the Fleet helmsmen; none of Dualscar's ships use them, a practice that gets him laughed at, but his ships are all the faster and more manueverable for it. He's also never had a problem with a rogue helmsman steering a valuable ship onto the rocks of a harbor either, which is a common enough occurrence. Sailing helmsmen maintain more of their individuality than starship ones, and they have enough of their own minds to cause problems. That's not why he doesn't use them, but it makes a convenient excuse.]

[polariity]

[Mention of the Fleet helmsmen just make the Psiioniic all the quieter, and he simply nods mutely. As the drone hands him the orange, he begins to quietly pick at it, slice by slice. It's a sign he's not quite there at the moment, when he goes slow instead of shoving the entire thing into his mouth without much grace. ]

[Helmsmen... A reminder of what's waiting for him in just a couple of sweeps. Will he be able to use that? Will he be able to fight back in quiet ways? Or will they turn him into almost nothing more than a drone? He wishes he knew more about those systems, and at the same time wishes he knew nothing at all.]

[He speaks against after a few moments.]

I'd thank them if I could.

[badpirattitude]

[Dualscar, to his credit, stays quiet while the Psiioniic thinks, and begins eating his breakfast when the drone puts the plate in front of him. He knows just enough about the starship helmsmen to know that being turned into a drone would be a blessing, versus being turned into one of them, but he doesn't tell the Psiioniic that. What would it accomplish, besides upsetting him?]

[His fins perk forward, though, when the Psiioniic finally speaks.]

You could, if you wwanted to.

[polariity]

[That gets his attention and the Psiioniic blinks in confusion.]

I thought I wath thuppothed to thtay here?

[badpirattitude]

You can do it wwithout leaving.

[Dualscar stands, and leaves the kitchen. When he returns moments later (dripping wet and leaving puddles behind him, much to the drone's irritation), he's carrying a speaker with a handset microphone, like a big-rig trucker would carry for his CB radio, if trolls knew what such things were. He sets it down on the table between them.]

This is a communicator to all the ships in the Fleet, even mine. It's a wway for the admirals and captains to give orders to the helmsmen and communicate with their subordinate officers.

[He meets the Psiioniic's eyes, looking very serious.]

If you wwanted to talk to them, you could. I'll showw you howw.

[polariity]

[Nothing else needs to be said for him to know just how important this is. The Psiioniic gets up to his feet, eyes locked onto the communicator. A way to communicate with them... The trolls whose ranks he'll be joining.]

...You could get in a lot of trouble for letting me do that.

[It's true that they're already courting danger as it is, getting attached, making sure that Signless and the others continue to stay alive and continue their journeys. That doesn't mean they should just throw caution to the wind... And he doesn't want to see Dualscar get needlessly harmed, either.]

[badpirattitude]

I knoww.

[Believe him, he does.]

There's a frequency that only the helmsmen use. No one else listens to it.

[Dualscar knows of this frequency, but has never used it, since he doesn't have a helmsman.]

You'd have to be careful, and not give anything awway, but you could listen in... and talk to them if you wwished.

[polariity]

[Gently, he reaches over to cup his hands around Dualscar's so he can rub his fingers over his knuckles.]

I'd like that.

oh god, this is going to be depressing as fuck, isn't it? a channel of helmsmen talking

[badpirattitude]

All right.

[Dualscar shyly gives the Psiioniic's hands a squeeze before he takes them back and starts fiddling with the device.]

Maybe wwe should just listen in at first.

[He taps into the network, logging in as the HMS Landhag, and dials the device over to the helmsmen channel. As a captain, he's allowed to listen in, but no one ever does.]

There.

[He folds his hands on the table and listens as the voices start to filter in.]

[polariity]

[Listening in is probably for the best. Considering his... feelings towards becoming a Helmsman, the Psiioniic isn't sure if he could be coherent in a reply towards trolls who already are.]

[Taking a deep breath, he subconsciously huddles against Dualscar and crosses his arms. At first, it's just usual things he imagines that goes on between ships. Coordinates, weather patterns... But then there will be something quieter, something less robotic, more troll.]

[Damage to the ship, making it harder to move, but the captain keeps making him push on and on and it hurts. One has been newly 'commissioned', and every biowire drives her nearly mad with pain- it's obvious in the way her voice trembles, and how the facts she gives break down into static and sobbing and pleas for it to stop. And she's not the only one, just the newest and unused to it. There are other voices which tremble, other confessions of the pain, whispers of how they just want to go. But there's always someone. Someone who responds, who whispers reassurances and confidence and 'it'll all be over soon's.]

[It makes him tremble. Hard. His fingers dig into his arms and for some reason it is hard to breath.]

[badpirattitude]

[There's a reason Dualscar never listens to this frequency. There's a reason the captains in general never listen to this frequency, unless they absolutely have to; even for the coldest highblood, there's so much pain here, so much agony, that it's palpable, a physical presence in the room. Even the drones, who can't understand what's being said, feel it, and are unusually quiet and still.]

[He can feel the Psiioniic huddling against him and shaking, and he puts an arm around him, holding him close against his side. Then the newest helmsman, the one with fresh biowires, breaks down into unconsolable sobs that even the quiet, gentle whisperings of the older helmsmen can't fix, and he flips off the device.]

[The silence is almost deafening.]

[polariity]

[It's impossible to stop shaking, even with Dualscar's grip around him. Old scars are beginning to ache, and he knows that it's only a tiny, insignificant representation of waits for him.]

[And he won't have anyone else to whisper to him and tell him things will be alright.]

[His claws are digging into his clothes and tearing at them, leaving scratches and shallow cuts on the skin beneath. He needs to hold onto something, himself, or else he'll break apart, he just knows it.]

[badpirattitude]

[This was a bad idea.]

[Dualscar doesn't know what to say. What can he even say? He can't even offer to try and get stationed on the Battleship Condescension, because all he knows are waterships, not airships. There's nothing he can do, he's completely helpless.]

[He pulls the Psiioniic up against him, wrapping his arms around the shaking troll and holding him close. He doesn't try and stop him from clawing at himself, though. That, at least, is something he understands.]

[He can't get the voice of the newest helmsman out of his head. She sounded so young, scarcely more than a wiggler...]

[polariity]

[When he finally gets his voice to work, it's choked with tears.]

They're going to do that to me. [One hand slips away from his arm, and digs into Dualscar's chest.] They're going to thtick wireth into my body, drain me of everything I have, and I can't...

[His body gives a harsh shake and the Psiioniic presses his face against Dualscar's shoulder as the tears stream down his face.]

whelp, for a thread that started with a prank, this got real very quickly

[badpirattitude]

[Dualscar holds on to him, gently stroking the back of his neck, and lets him cry. What can he even say that would be comforting? All he can do is hold him, and give him this brief interlude, this chance at life, this chance to read and eat oranges and be mostly free.]

[His fins are rotating, spinning and moving around his face, repeating I'm so sorry over and over again.]

I could... I could buy that helmsman. The neww one. The one wwho kept crying.

[It's a cold comfort, but it's the best he can do.]

how do we *do* that

[polariity]

Pleathe.

[He wishes he could do more. He wants to do more than just rely on Dualscar to free one suffering psionic when there are so many more in the world and in open space, forced to live their short lives in servitude and pain. Something. Anything.]

[But there's just this.]

I... Thomeone. For once. Thomeone needth to fucking get a break.

miracles

[badpirattitude]

Okay.

[Dualscar waits for the inevitable question, knowing it's probably coming. He does, after all, have an entire fleet of ships under his command, all of whom could use an individual helmsman. In the meantime, he just holds the Psiioniic and rocks him back and forth, his fins fanning forward and lightly brushing the sides of the other troll's face.]

[Meanwhile, his mind is ticking through what he needs to do to acquire the young helmsman. He doesn't mention that by freeing her, the ship's captain will just buy another one. The Psiioniic is smart; he'll figure that out on his own.]

[polariity]

[He's already figured it out.]

[To be frank, it's the kind of thinking which helped to shackle him down before everything. Help one person, and another would take their place in suffering. Why bother?]

[Because doing nothing accomplished nothing.]

[After taking a few minutes to compose himself again, the Psiioniic takes a deep shuddering breath and straightens up. His hand passes over his face, clearing away the tears, and then he's staring at Dualscar. Another moment of silence before he can speak.]

How many?

[He doesn't explain further.]

[badpirattitude]

In the Fleet? Several thousand.

[And that's just in the Naval Fleet, that's not even counting all the starships. But Dualscar chooses not to specify that. He also knows that isn't really what the Psiioniic is asking, and he meets his eyes before he continues.]

On my ships? None.

[polariity]

[Maybe a better troll- possibly stupider too- would just accept those words. But the Psiioniic can't just do that. Not with this, especially.]

That better not be a lie.

[badpirattitude]

It's not!

[Despite the gravity of the situation, Dualscar can't help bristling a little. He gets enough shit from other officers about not using helmsmen, he doesn't need it from the Psiioniic too!]

No ship under my command uses one.