ten_fwd | (no subject)

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There are a lot of people without uniforms walking around.

It's reassuring, in a way, because none of them are recognizable and most of them don't seem to know who Captain America is, male or female. So she and those of her own - or alternate - universes couldn't have been targeted specifically.

(probably)

And it's completely unreassuring since that, at least, would have indicated some sort of pattern, logic, or reason.

Steph has been spending a lot of time in the library where, shockingly enough, information seems to be split between large computer terminals and actual paper books. She is going to hold this over Stark forever, assuming she ever sees him again.

Captain Steph Rogers has learned, in a short amount of time:
-The Great War happened
-World War II happened
-There is no record of any sort of Captain America
-There is no record of the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement & Logistics Division (though she was pretty sure there wouldn't be, no matter what)
-There is no record of the Chitauri
-There are a lot of records about other aliens

She's actually enjoying reading up on Vulcan history and the founding of the United Federation of Planets. It's making her feel a lot more confident and relaxed in general about finding herself aboard the Enterprise.

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Amanda may not be certain if she is ever going to get back to her world but in case she does there is a deadline to meet. Which is why this immortal enters the library to get some work done.

When Amanda enters she notices someone else in the library, someone who doesn't look like a member of the crew. After a moment of thought Amanda takes a seat nearby and starts working. She looks up every now and again to let the other woman know she is bother-able, but Amanda doesn't want to disturb her.

Steph looks up at the first noise. She's focused on her research, treating this entire experience as a mission more than anything - it makes sense to her, with so many civilians aboard, what few people she knows and sort-of-knows. If necessary, she'll defend each and every one of them, but only if she knows what she's defending them again, and why.

But Steph is hardly ever focused enough to let someone sneak up on her. She looks up at the noise, meets Amanda's gaze, and gives her a friendly nod and smile. She's open to conversation, if the other woman is.

Amanda returns the friendly smile with one of her own.

"Good Morning" Amanda greets, "Or afternoon, or evening." an uncertain smile, "It's so difficult to tell on board this ship." she knows that it shouldn't bother her, after all what is time to an immortal? But still it's a bit unnerving.

Steph grins in return at the familiar conversation. Like talking about the weather, almost, but it's comforting that way. "Hard to tell without a constant sun and horizon," she agrees, "but same to you. Have you been onboard very long?"

Amanda shakes her head, "About a week, I think." again difficult to tell without a sun. "Yourself?"

"Not entirely sure, to be honest," Steph replies with a self-deprecating laugh, reaching up to tug on her ponytail. "Over a month now, that's for sure."

There's a stardate darn near everywhere you look but those numbers are too foreign to make much sense to her, some days.

Nodding, "Well if like myself you aren't from here and now, where and when are you from?"

Steph smiles at what will likely become a common question. "Earth, 2010s. Specifically New York and D.C. And you, ma'am?"

"Earth, 2014 Los Angeles." then extending her hand, "And you can call me Amanda." because she realizes she forgot to introduce herself.

"Steph." She beams and takes Amanda's hand for a hearty shake, careful not to squeeze too hard - not due to strength, but propriety itself, not wanting too be seen as too firm or aggressive. "Good to know there's a few folks from about the same time. There's a lot of universes around, though."

Nodding, "There are, granted that is what makes things more interesting, but I agree it is nice to have someone from about the same time. Especially when visiting the future." she really hopes she is just visiting.

So does Steph. She smiles and nods in agreement, curious now. "You, ah, haven't heard of Captain America, have you?"

Shaking her head, "No, I haven't." she might be lying, just like she might be lying when she pretends as if she isn't geeking over the enterprise, and so many other things. But what she knows of these things are fiction and this is reality so she has no way of knowing what might be different from what she has read and seen.

Actually, Steph is a bit relieved to hear this answer. At the rate she's currently experiencing, it's more likely anyone who knows the Captain thinks he's a man anyway.

She smiles and nods, pushing away from the computer just a few inches. "Then we're from separate universes ourselves. Good to know right away."

It doesn't really matter to Amanda one way or another but it doesn't hurt to know if they are from the same universe.

"So who is Captain America?" because Steph brought it up.

Steph's still trying to get a handle on who's showing up, from where, and why. There's been no pattern so far but she can't assume it's entirely random. Random is a lot more unlikely than purposeful, focused tactics.

She looks a little sheepish for a moment when the question comes and offers Amanda a small smile. "Oh, uh. She - or he," she adds this last with a light furrow in her brow, "is..."

"Just a soldier. Kinda famous."

Amanda nods not certain about Steph's reaction but moves on because she doesn't seem to want to talk about it.

"Have you found anything interesting to read?"

"Yes, actually," Steph replies, perking up for the change in subject. "I was looking up the history of Starfleet and got a little distracted with Vulcan history. Are you looking for something in particular?"

"I thought that I might try to find something to read." chuckling, "Or maybe actually get some writing in, on the off chance that I might be able to get back to my world."

"Are you a writer?" Steph asks, interested.

Nodding, "Yes, I've been writing for the last five years."

This woman is...kind of in uniform. It looks almost fine; black pants, a Sciences-blue shirt. But the shirt isn't quite designed to fit a woman's figure, no matter that she's cinched a belt around her waist, and there's a black band around her left arm. Still, she's pulling it off with the kind of blithe confidence that suggests she's never, not in a million years, noticed anything amiss.

She has noticed, of course, but, hey, if the computer refuses to give her a uniform, then she's just going to be stealing McCoy's shirt for a while.

If Steph would look up when Gaila walks in, then she'll give the other woman an acknowledging nod and then continue on her way to one of the computers.

Of course, it doesn't take long for Gaila to pull up computing theory texts, and start to curse. Not that she's using English, but some things don't need to be translated.

Of course Steph looks up. Even without enhanced senses, she's made a point of making it difficult for anyone to sneak up on her. She offers a friendly smile - and then she offers wide eyes, a dropped smile, and a startled blink.

She'd been reading about aliens. She hadn't expected one to walk right in wearing a uniform. Ill-fitting aside.

Realizing how rude that response was, Steph turns her attention back to her computer quickly, cheeks pink with shame. She tries to focus on the information in front of her, before the cursing starts.

It doesn't need to be in English. Steph wandered enough of Europe to understand the sound of a curse, even if she's anything but fluent.

The swearing cuts off apparently mid-word.

"I am so sorry, I kinda forgot anyone else was here," Gaila says, spinning around on her chair to give Steph an apologetic look. "I hope didn't disturb you too much?"

Accent: American. Words-per-minute ratio? Fairly high.

Apparently. Steph looks up at her again when the words change to a language she knows. Now that she's free to focus on the other woman, she finds her-- surprisingly attractive, green skin aside, beautiful face and lovely red curls to frame it.

She might be pink-cheeked again, but her smile is friendly as she shakes her head. "Not at all. I found myself on a future spaceship with no idea about the last few hundred years: if you wanna curse, I won't blame you."

Hmmm, the other woman is still blushing - interesting. Good to know. Potentially very good to know.

Now she smiles back, but her expression is still more rueful than flirtatious.

"I'm a hundred and eight years in the future. And, well, uh, computer theory has moved on just a little, and it's kinda disconcerting. And frustrating, as I have very little idea what they are talking about any more. Yay."

She huffs with annoyance.

"A few hundred years in the future? You know, you're handling it very well."

Steph's smile is wry as she nods, grateful. "Literally, three hundred years. I'm... handling it. Thank you.

"I can understand what you mean, though. I trained as a nurse when I was a kid. Trying to understand medical texts today is like reading..."

She pauses, blinks, huffing a little sigh. The room smells fresh all of a sudden, a bit like a garden or greenhouse, but-- the woman across from her is green. No big deal.

"Like reading futuristic medical texts," Steph finishes, lamely.

"Oh, wow, yeah." Gaila winces in genuine sympathy, opens her mouth to add something else, and then visibly seems to remind herself to have manners. Which means she scoots her chair over to offer her hand.

"Acting Ensign Gaila betIlley, of Starfleet."

Ahh, manners. Always nice to meet someone else who subscribes and doesn't make her feel old-fashioned in the process. Steph smiles and scoots her own chair around, reaching out to wrap her fingers gently around Gaila's palm. It's an easy habit by now, not just holding back her strength but keeping her grip more ladylike.

"Captain Steph Rogers, Strategic Homeland-- well." She grins a little, teasing herself. "Let's just call it SHIELD. Pleasure to meet you, Ensign betIlley."

"Nice to meet you, too, Captain Rogers," she says warmly. "So, I guess on behalf of the temporally displaced members of Starfleet...how are you finding the future?"

"Strange," Steph replies promptly, her grin good-natured. "And please, call me Steph. I think there are enough Captains on board for now. You are Starfleet, then?"

"I am!" Then her expression slides back to rueful. "I haven't technically graduated from the Academy yet. That's why it's 'Acting' Ensign, but we all got called up early for an emergency."

Which ended with them mostly all being blown up, and her face reflects that before she determinedly tries to shove that away.

"But, yes. I am Starfleet."

That sudden flash of No, too close to awful memories, quick, move on is an expression Steph is very familiar with. She nods and offers her own rueful smile. "Understood. They called me Captain long before I actually earned the rank."

She's not sure when exactly she 'earned' it, but she sure has by now.

"I've been reading a bit about Starfleet. I'm military myself, so it might be the most familiar thing to me here."

"Ohh, that makes a lot of sense, although you know, we're not actually military."

She's firm on that.

Very. Firm.

"But what do you think? Of Starfleet, I mean?"

"Like I said," Steph replies, with a wry little smile, "it's the most familiar thing here.

"It's always hard to tell anything about a new time just by reading. I'm used to getting two forms of documents, too: public journalism, redacted security documents." She sighs and shakes her head, smiling at Gaila. "But I like to trust until I'm given a reason not to. Give that? Starfleet sounds incredible. Do you like it?"

"I do. I...I wasn't born in the Federation. But I read about it, and when I...left, with a bunch of others...Starfleet helped us. So, I decided to join and explore space, and help other people."

It's idealistic, of course it is. But she makes no apology for it; as far as she's concerned, she's earned the right to those ideals and refuses to retreat to the safety of cynicism.

A lot of pauses in there, a lot of thoughts started and quickly stopped. Steph is taking note, but mostly so she knows to avoid the topics in the future, or at least not make a point of them. Everyone deserves privacy, even if they're telegraphing the problem.

"If something like this had been around when I was a kid," Steph points out quietly, wistfully, gesturing to the book in front of her, "I'd've been front of the line. Especially if women were allowed. Exploring space, learning about new cultures, doin' it all peacefully... it's like some kind of fiction novel, too good to be true. It's incredible."

"It is. It's not..." Gaila frowns a little, swinging her chair this way and that as she thinks.

"It's not perfect. Neither are its members. But we try, and I think that mostly, we get it right. Or we learn.

And that is something worth protecting, and working for."

Then she sighs. "Once I catch up with over a century of computing theory."

The way Gaila talks about Starfleet is comforting, to say the least. Steph's shoulders come down a bit, and she hadn't even realized she'd had them tensed. She smiles at the other young woman and it's a sweeter thing, nodding with her.

"I think the same about the military," she admits, just a hint of hesitance. That's not a popular opinion in the twenty-first century and Gaila has already responded harshly to calling Starfleet military. "You join up and it's not perfect, but that's why you join up. And then you try."

She smiles and there's that look in her eye, the look of the True Believer, the spirit that can't be kept down, no matter how many knocks it takes. "Like you said, you get it right, or you learn. And you keep trying to get it right."

She knows that look; she wears it enough herself. That's not why she is frowning, even if slightly.

"You said you were part of...SHIELD? What do they do?"

Steph smiles, but some of that light dims, just a little. The army wasn't perfect but during the war, it was straightforward. There really was a Good side, a Bad side, and they were very nearly black and white. These days, SHIELD... it's not always so clear.

"It stands for Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division."

Because that totally answers Gaila's question, right?

"Basically it's in defense of the nation, but opponents tend to be... extremely classified."

"Oh, like spies?" Pause. "Well, I guess you can't answer that."

Steph laughs and nods, a little uncomfortable with the description, but her expression and fidgeting make it look more like shyness. "Here, I guess I can. There's a lot of agents who are covert, but I'm not usually one of them. That's the idea, though. Fights that can't be fought in front of a camera, basically."

Unless they're in the middle of New York, laying waste to skyscrapers from a hole in the sky.

Y'know.

"That's important, too," she says. It's sad, but true.

Then,

"SHIELD is much easier to remember."

Steph nods. She meant that a bit more literally than Gaila might understand: the fights she fought on camera were staged, political, posturing. The fights off-camera were the ones that mattered, the ones that made a real difference during war.

"Isn't it?" she agrees, laughing now, mood lightened. "It's a pretty terrible name, but I like the acronym."

It's kind of her thing, after all.

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